Gift of Grace Page 13

  “Oh, I did, J.B. It’s one I’ll always remember.” She turned her face to his and accepted his kiss. “Thank you for making today special.”

  “You did that, Nora. You have a light in your heart that shines out to others. It’s one of the first things I noticed about you, one of the things that made me fall in love with you.” J.B. cupped her cheek in his work-roughened hand. “I’m glad it’s shining once again. In fact, I think it’s shining brighter than ever before.”

  Nora kissed his palm and held his hand between hers. “It’s not me, J.B. That light is shining in you, too. It’s a gift of love. The gift of Grace.”

  Recipe

  On a cold winter day, there’s nothing quite like stepping inside a warm home to the delicious fragrance of mulling cider. Although this recipe is an updated version of what Nora and J.B. drank, I hope you’ll enjoy it!

  Spiced Mulled Cider

  1 gallon fresh apple cider

  1 medium orange

  1 piece fresh ginger

  5 cinnamon sticks

  1 tablespoon whole cloves

  Pour fresh apple cider into a 5-quart saucepan or large slow cooker. (Fresh apple cider is generally found refrigerated at your local market. It may appear a little cloudy, and this is a good thing. Do not make this with apple juice, sparkling cider, or hard cider.)

  Cut the orange into ¼ inch thick rounds. Cut the ginger into ¼ inch thick slices. Add both to the slow cooker. Add cinnamon sticks. Place cloves in a tea ball or wrap in cheesecloth or a coffee filter, like a sachet, and tie with kitchen twine before adding to the slow cooker. If you like, you may add additional spices to the cloves such as anise, nutmeg, or allspice berries.

  Cover the slow cooker with a lid, and cook four hours on low. Keep warm when ready to serve. Garnish mugs with additional orange slices or cinnamon sticks if desired.

  Author’s Note

  Thank you, dear reader, for joining me on this journey into Nora and J.B.’s story. For those who have read the Pendleton Petticoats stories, you’ll well recognize them from the series.

  When I was thinking about the idea for a new holiday series, I thought it would be fun to tell the stories of characters who’ve appeared in my books, but we didn’t know much about.

  Pendleton, Oregon, is a real place in the west. Located along the Oregon Trail, the city was founded in 1868 and named for George Hunt Pendleton, a Democratic candidate for vice president in 1864. The county judge, G.W. Bailey, suggested the name and the commissioners decided Pendleton suited the town.

  In 1851, Dr. William C. McKay established a post office on McKay Creek and called it Houtama. Later, Marshall Station was situated about a half-mile to the east on the north bank of the Umatilla River. Marshall Station was then called Middleton since it rested half way between what was then Umatilla Landing and the Grand Ronde Valley (known today as La Grande).

  When the county was created in 1862, the temporary county seat was placed at Marshall Station. The post office was established there in 1865 with Jonathan Swift as the postmaster.

  On October 8, 1869, the name was changed to Pendleton. Much of the town proper at that time was owned by Moses E. Goodwin and Judge Bailey. Goodwin arrived in the area around 1861. He traded a team of horses to Abram Miller for squatter rights to 160 acres about three miles from Marshall Station. Goodwin Crossing was a stop for freight wagons. In 1868, Goodwin deeded two and a half acres of his land to the county for a town. A toll bridge that spanned the Umatilla River was constructed along with a hotel, a newspaper, and other businesses and Pendleton began to take shape as a community.

  In the story as Nora and J.B. first arrive in town, the buildings described were what existed in Pendleton at that time. Despite the presence of Pastor Whitting and the church in the story, I stretched history just a bit with that addition. It wasn’t until 1872 that twenty women started the first church when they began meeting together. The first church building erected in town was the Episcopal Church, constructed in 1875.

  It was fun for me to envision Pendleton before it became such a bustling, thriving town at the turn of the century. One pioneer account did say the streets were so dusty in the summer, it was nearly up to their knees while the dust turned into a quagmire of mud in the winter. No wonder Pendleton was one of the first cities in Oregon to pave their streets. The well in town where folks gathered was also a real thing. I found a mention of it in some pioneer recollections of the early days of Pendleton.

  As for the historical tidbits, like President Grant’s horse, the shots for small pox, and the judge shooting the cow that wandered into his garden, those were all actual articles I found in old newspapers from the day. So was the article about a woman’s love being a fickle thing. That one really made me smile.

  A big thank you goes out to Shauna, Leo, Katrina, and my Hopeless Romantics team of beta readers for their help in adding polish to the story. I so appreciate each one of you!

  I hope you enjoyed this story about the gift of grace and love. If you’d like to see more of the visuals that inspired me while I wrote the book, please visit my Pinterest board.

  As always, thank you for coming along on this reading adventure.

  May all your holidays be full of blessings, grace, and love!

  Thank you for reading Gift of Grace. I hope you enjoyed meeting Nora and J.B. and reading their story. If you have just a moment, would you please leave a review so others might discover this book? I’d so appreciate it!

  If you haven’t yet read them, check out the other books in the Gifts of Christmas series! Each book can stand on its own so you can read them in any order.

  Please hop over to my website and read more about the Justin Cowboy Crisis Fund and how your book purchase helps a rodeo athlete in need of a hand up.

  Also, if you haven’t yet signed up for my newsletter, won’t you consider subscribing? I send it out when I have new releases, sales, or news of freebies to share. Each month, you can enter a contest, get a new recipe to try, and discover details about upcoming events. When you sign up, you’ll receive a free digital book. Don’t wait. Sign up today!

  Shanna’s Newsletter

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  BookBub

  Gift of Hope

  Gift of Hope (Gifts of Christmas Book 2)

  A tender gift given

  Can warm even the coldest heart . . .

  When his affections are spurned by the girl he plans to wed, Graydon Gaffney rides off in the swirling snow, determined to stay far away from fickle females. Then a voice in the storm draws him to a woman and her two sweet children. Despite his intentions to guard his emotions, all three members of the DeVille family threaten to capture his heart.

  Giavanna DeVille holds the last frayed edges of her composure in a tenuous grasp. In a moment of desperation, she leaves her sleeping children in her cabin and ventures out into a storm to release her pent-up frustrations where no one can hear her cries. Much to her surprise, a man appears through the blinding snow. He gives her a shoulder to cry on and something even more precious. . . hope.

  Can the two of them move beyond past heartaches to accept the gift of hope for their future?

  Gift of Hope is the second book in the Gifts of Christmas series, a collection of heartwarming, wholesome historical romances, featuring precious gifts given straight from the heart.

  Please continue reading to enjoy a sample of the story.

  Chapter One

  Baker City

  November 1892

  “She did what?” Graydon Gaffney crushed his hat in his hand as he glared at the woman he’d assumed would one day be his mother-in-law.

  Beatrice Hobken’s eyes widened in fear as she shrank away from him.

  Grady swallowed the growl brewing in his throat and softened his tone. “Would you please repeat that, Mrs. Hobken? Where is Ethel?”

  “Go
ne, Mr. Gaffney. She’s gone, just like I said. Ethel ran off yesterday morning with one of those horrid traveling salesmen. My husband discovered it was the short one with the twitchy eye who sells medicinals.” The woman sighed as she nervously twisted a lace-edged handkerchief between her hands. “I should have known she was up to something when she was acting so sweet and accommodating the previous evening.”

  Mrs. Hobken chanced a glance at him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gaffney, for your disappointment over her leaving. I can’t help but think you can do better than my frivolous child.”

  Grady didn’t know what to say to her blunt comment. He studied Mrs. Hobken for a moment, noting her shiny yellow hair and petite frame were identical to Ethel’s. In spite of age dimming the luster of her youth, Mrs. Hobken was still a beautiful woman. And so was her fickle daughter. Ethel’s beauty had drawn Grady’s interest the moment he’d first set eyes on her last spring.

  He'd been thoroughly enamored with Ethel, even though he doubted he had a chance at winning her affections. Yet, he’d tried. For the past six months, he’d been courting the girl, wooing her as best as he knew how.

  It seemed his best wasn’t good enough, though, since Ethel apparently preferred to create a scandal and run away with a shifty-eyed salesman rather than continue to see him.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hobken.” Grady tipped his head to the distraught mother then turned and strode down the porch steps. His boots left distinctive tracks in the light dusting of snow covering the front walk as he made his way back to where he’d left his horse.

  He swung into the saddle and clucked to Happy, guiding the bay gelding down the street.

  Dusk streaked the sky with faint splashes of indigo and pink as he rode toward the center of town. He’d counted on spending the entire weekend in Baker City, escorting Ethel to various events before he returned to the mountains southwest of town where he was foreman of the Lucky Larkspur Mine.

  The ring he’d purchased for Ethel felt like a lead weight in his pocket. He’d envisioned proposing to her tonight after a fine supper at the fanciest hotel in town. If the timing wasn’t right, he had the dance tomorrow or after church Sunday as potential possibilities for proposing. Instead, he felt like a dunderhead for not realizing Ethel was only toying with him until someone more interesting came along.

  Jilted and growing angrier with each passing second, Grady had no interest in hanging around town a minute longer than necessary. He urged Happy forward, wanting to escape civilization and head back to the mine where females were forbidden.

  “Hey, Gaff!” Ian MacGregor waved to him as he walked down the street toward the dress shop his wife, Maggie, owned.

  Grady reined the horse out of traffic and stopped near the boardwalk, waiting as Ian hurried toward him. The owner of the lumberyard was someone he considered a friend, even if he wasn’t in the mood to socialize. He tamped down his irritation and forced himself to keep his tone even. “Howdy, Ian.”

  “Are you in town for the big dance tomorrow?” Ian asked with an affable grin as he reached up and shook his hand in greeting. “Planning to take Miss Hobken?”

  “It um… well, she…” Grady sat a little straighter in the saddle, trying not to let his disappointment show. “According to her ma, she ran off with a salesman yesterday. Wish I’d known and I wouldn’t have wasted a trip into town.”

  Sympathy settled over Ian’s features. “I’m verra sorry to hear that, my friend. Although, I can’t say I’m sorry ya won’t be squirin’ Miss Hobken around any longer. That lass is a conceited bit of baggage.”

  Grady stared at Ian, surprised to hear him say exactly what he’d been thinking. He’d been so befuddled by Ethel’s outward beauty he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the truth of her tendency to think only of herself. All the times he’d caught her preening at her image, all the instances when she’d finagled a compliment out of him, made him even more upset, mostly at himself, for being such a fool when it came to a pretty face.

  Well, he wouldn’t make that mistake again. If the day ever came when he was willing to let another woman worm her way into his heart, he wanted one who would be steadfast and true. She could be as homely as a cross-eyed gimpy mule as far as he was concerned as long as she held real affection for him. But it was going to be a long, long while before he was interested in putting his heart on the line for another woman to destroy.

  No, he’d learned his lesson.

  “Will ya join me and Maggie for supper? We’d love to have ya. My folks are visitin’, ya know, and they’d enjoy hearin’ about the mine.”

  Grady considered the delicious meal he’d no doubt eat if he accepted the invitation. Maggie would insist he spend the night in one of their warm, comfortable guest rooms instead of bunking in a stall at the livery with Happy, as he’d expected to do before his plans went awry.

  At the moment, though, his stomach was tied in knots and a lump of disenchantment clogged his throat. He wouldn’t enjoy the meal and he wasn’t fit company for anyone this evening.

  “I appreciate the invitation, Ian, but I think it best I head on up the mountain.”

  Ian gave him a shocked look. “Surely, ya aren’t plannin’ on traipsin’ through the woods in the cold and dark. No woman is worth gettin’ yerself frozen or becomin’ a tasty morsel for a pack of wolves.”

  Grady leveled a knowing look at Ian. “I bet you every last penny I own you’d suffer through wolves and frozen fingers for Maggie.”

  Ian grinned. “That I would, but she’s my bonny bride.” He took a step toward his wife’s shop. “If ya change yer mind, yer always welcome.”

  “Thank you, Ian.” Grady leaned out of the saddle and shook Ian’s hand again. “Give Maggie my regards.”

  “I will.” Ian edged toward the dress shop door. “Be careful out there.”

  Grady nodded then guided Happy back into the wagons, buggies, and horses traversing up and down the street.

  Common sense urged him to stop at the mercantile and stock up on supplies, but he didn’t want to chance running into anyone else who might question him about Ethel. At least he hadn’t told anyone he was planning to propose. He wasn’t sure how he’d ever live that down if he’d shared his intentions with his friends. It was embarrassing enough to know he’d decided to pledge his life to a woman who cared so little about him she didn’t even leave a note of explanation before she took off with a traveling huckster.

  Annoyance made him oblivious to everything but the growing anger swelling within him.

  Snow began to fall about an hour after Grady left Baker City behind him. Cold seeped into his bones, making him wish he’d swallowed his bruised pride and spent the night at Ian and Maggie’s comfortable home.

  Thoughts of Ian’s pronounced brogue made him smile against the frigid evening air. Whenever the lumberman got excited, or his father came to visit, his brogue thickened until he sounded like he’d just stepped off a boat from Scotland. It wouldn’t have shocked Grady at all to see Ian and his father striding around town in kilts with a set of bagpipes hanging from their arms. He’d once heard Thane Jordan, his employer, teasing Ian about wearing skirts and how his bagpipe playing sounded like he attempted to squeeze the life out of a high-strung piglet.

  Although Grady hadn’t witnessed a performance from Ian, he’d heard enough to know bagpipe playing was not among the man’s talents.

  As the sky turned from gray to black around him, Grady lit a small lantern, grateful for the glow of light dispelling the consuming darkness.

  Something his mother once told him, long ago, whispered in his thoughts. “If you know where to look, no matter how black the night, there’s always a light and always hope.”

  Much of what his mother had taught him had been forgotten or ignored once Grady struck out on his own, but occasionally, a memory would surge to the forefront of his mind and remind him of her.

  As the lantern light glimmered around him, he tipped his head back and felt the soft sting of snowflakes against his
skin as he glanced at the sky. “Guess I needed that reminder, Lord, that no matter how dark things get, you’re always with me, providing a light. Thank you.”

  Feeling marginally better, he hunkered into the warmth of his wool-lined coat and followed the winding road that would take him back to the mine. Howls shattered the quiet stillness around him, making the hair on the back of his neck stand upright.

  Lantern held high, his gaze darted around, peering through the swirls of snow to see if he and Happy were about to be attacked. Another string of howls brought him a measure of relief as he realized the sound came from coyotes, not wolves. Unless they were rabid or starving, he wasn’t in any danger. It was early enough in the season they shouldn’t be hungry. After the story of a rabid prisoner dying in the jail last spring traveled throughout the area, everyone had been on the hunt for rabid animals, ridding the county of them as best they could.

  In spite of his melancholy over lost love, Grady couldn’t help but smile as he thought of Deputy Durfey’s pet racoon. More accurately, his wife’s pet racoon, but from what he’d seen, Dugan Durfey was every bit as charmed by the furry little masked bandit as Delilah. She’d tamed the critter, much to everyone’s amazement, and Ollie followed her around like a trained puppy. He was a cute thing, when he wasn’t trying to snitch candy out of pockets or cookies off plates.

  To get his blood circulating through his feet, Grady swung off Happy and led him for a while, stamping his feet and swinging his arms as he walked.

  Grady considered the possibility of getting a pet. Thane wouldn’t care if he had a dog or even a cat at the mine, and an animal would be better company than no one. Loneliness was the reason he’d talked himself into proposing to Ethel. He was tired of being alone. Tired of having no one to talk to other than the miners he supervised. Tired of living only for himself.

  He wanted — needed — someone to share his life with.