Gift of Grace Read online

  Nora felt moisture sting her eyes as she nodded her head. “I can’t think of a name I’d like better.” She looked out over the rolling hills of sagebrush. “Nash’s Folly.”

  Quickly changing into chore clothes, J.B. drove the wagon to the creek and parked it then built a makeshift pen from rope and sturdy branches for the mules and horses. Nora worked at setting up camp then fried the fish J.B. caught for supper.

  When they’d finished eating, J.B. filled a bucket with water and walked with Nora to the spot where they planned to build their house.

  “Where do you want to plant this?” he asked, taking a small lilac from a bucket they’d safely tucked into the wagon before they started the journey West. The roots, wrapped in burlap and kept moist, had survived the trip.

  The day before they planned to leave Omaha, Nora had gone to see her grandmother one last time. While she was there, she dug up a start from a lilac bush that always had the most fragrant blooms in the spring. She hoped the lilac would thrive here, because it would serve as a lovely reminder of not just her childhood, but her beloved grandmother.

  “Right here,” Nora said, pointing to a spot not far from the scraggly tree. “I think it will do well here.”

  J.B. dug the hole and helped her plant it then they made their way back to the river. After washing their hands, they settled on a blanket near the campfire. Together, they breathed in the quiet along with night air heavily perfumed by the scents of spring.

  “Tomorrow, I’ll head into town and see what supplies I can find. I’ll leave a message for Jess at the post office. If he’s in the area, I’m sure he’ll come out to help us.” J.B. slid behind her and pulled her back against his chest with his hands splayed across the small bump created by their baby. “I’ll see if I can find a hired hand or two. The faster we can get a house and barn up, the better I’ll sleep at night knowing you and the little one have a roof over your head.”

  “We’ll be fine, J.B.,” she hurried to assure him. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times that I’m not…”

  “Made of glass,” he said, interrupting her. His voice was a low rumble against her hair and his breath warmed her neck as he pressed a kiss to the soft skin beneath her ear.

  She turned her head and smiled at him in the fading evening light. “We’re going to be so, so happy here, J.B. I can just feel it.”

  “Me too, Nora. Then again, I’m happy anywhere you are.” J.B. picked her up and set her on his lap, erasing any lingering doubts or fears she may have owned through his sweet, generous love.

  Chapter One

  November 1, 1870

  J.B. Nash awoke with a start. His lungs burned like he’d run for miles without stopping while his breath felt tight in his chest. Disoriented, he sat up and drew in a deep gulp. The cool night temperature chilled his clammy skin and cleared the clouds lingering in his mind.

  “A dream,” he whispered to himself then dragged in another lungful of air. After a third calming breath, he glanced at his wife, sleeping peacefully beside him.

  In the moonlight shining through the window, Nora looked so enticing. Her dark hair spilled around her against the pale linens of the bed. Even in slumber, a smile rode her sweet lips. Lips he’d taken great pleasure in kissing quite ardently just hours ago.

  Grateful he hadn’t awakened her with his thrashing, J.B. recalled his nightmare with vivid detail. Normally, his bad dreams were of the war, caused by things he’d survived and endured. Things he never wanted to do or think about again. When those dreams came, he could smell the sharp odor of gunpowder, hear the screams of men dying, feel his own wounds slick with blood and sweat. But this dream was different.

  He’d been running in a fog so thick he could barely see his hand in front of his face. Roots tripped him and brambles clawed at his skin, but he kept on running, trying to get to Nora. She needed him and he felt an undeniable sense of urgency, as though her life depended on him finding her. He could see Nora calling out to him then she’d slip beyond his reach and be swallowed by the fog, over and over again.

  Unsettled by how real the dream seemed, J.B. glanced at his wife once more. He tucked the covers around her shoulders then swung his legs over the side of their bed and stood. He slipped on a pair of pants, a heavy woolen shirt, and a thick pair of socks before he left the room and closed the door behind him. After lighting the lamp on the table in the kitchen, he stoked the fire in the stove. Briskly, he brushed his hands together to warm them then he leaned over the cradle placed near the stove to check on the baby.

  Born in the middle of August in the worst summer heat J.B. could ever remember experiencing, Grace had arrived with a lusty cry and a head full of Nora’s dark hair.

  As much as he adored and cherished Nora, what J.B. felt for his daughter was something he couldn’t even find words to describe. Grace had completely captured his heart the first time he’d held her tiny, wiggling body in his arms.

  Once the war ended, he was sure he’d never experience true peace or happiness again. Then he’d met Nora, who’d only been seventeen to his twenty-one years that spring he’d ridden onto the ranch and asked if her father would hire him. At first, he thought the boy with Charlie Watson seemed awfully scrawny and feminine. The kid sat on the top rail of a fence and listened to him and Charlie talk. Suddenly, the supposed boy removed the dusty cap on his head. Hair that shone like a raven’s wing had spilled down, nearly a yard long.

  He realized his mistake and looked into the face of Charlie’s daughter, Nora. Freckles danced across a pert nose. Round, rosy cheeks brought thoughts of his ma’s apple tree back home in Missouri to mind. And then there was her smile. Oh, Nora’s smile! It was like looking at sunbeams when she turned it on him.

  She’d hopped off the fence and raced to the house to change out of her dirty britches, but not before she’d given him a long glance over her shoulder as she jogged across the yard. He’d felt a sharp pain in his chest as his heart resumed beating after the war had left it numb and cold.

  Although he’d only planned to work for Charlie for a few weeks, J.B. ended up staying on the ranch. He was there when word finally came that two of Nora’s brothers were buried in unmarked graves somewhere in Georgia. He was there when her oldest brother returned home missing a leg and his mind. He was there when her brother fatally shot Charlie then killed himself.

  It was good they’d sold the ranch and left. Nora’s terror as she watched her father crumple to the floor and die had echoed through the house far more than the laughter they’d enjoyed.

  Nora was a happy, spunky girl full of sass and life. But each day she spent living in that house full of sad memories, J.B. watched her slip further away. It was better once she came out of mourning. He’d personally burned every piece of black clothing she owned. She needed color in her world and if he had anything to say about it, she’d never wear black again.

  It wasn’t until they sold the ranch and stepped onto the train heading west that she began to return to the girl he’d fallen in love with. Then she’d shocked him speechless when she announced halfway between Fort Hall and Fort Boise they were going to have a baby. A million worries gnawed at J.B. about her being in the family way as they traversed the Oregon Trail, much of the time alone. Nora had taken it all in stride, though. Half the time she wore a pair of britches he didn’t even realize she owned and helped him as much as she could.

  Along the way, they’d laughed and loved, and made plans for the future. The future they’d begin once they reached Pendleton.

  A grin creased his face as he thought of the day they’d bought Nash’s Folly. Nora had been a picture of springtime with her lavender-sprigged dress, fancy bonnet, and lacy parasol. She could have been a fine lady out for a carriage ride instead of a hard-working rancher’s wife. J.B. knew most people would never call her beautiful, but there was something about Nora that drew people to her like a moth to a lantern on a moonless night. She glowed with warmth and kindness, making ever
yone feel welcome and important.

  And J.B. still thought she was the cutest little gal he’d ever seen.

  “Are you gonna give your momma a little competition, sweetheart?” J.B. asked as he brushed his finger across the baby’s velvety cheek. Grace rarely cried or fussed and she’d started sleeping through most of the night a few weeks ago. Even the doctor in town declared her a healthy specimen as well as a fine-looking baby.

  J.B. didn’t care if he was biased in his opinions, but he thought Grace had to be the most wonderful baby in the whole world.

  Unable to resist his need to hold her, he gently picked her up and took a seat in the rocking chair on the other side of the cradle. With the baby resting against his chest, he set the chair into a slow rocking motion.

  “You’re gonna have all the boys around these parts with their britches in a bunch, my sweet girl. I’ll have to stand on the porch with a shotgun as soon as you start wearing long skirts, but we have a few years before we need to worry about that. For now, all you have to do is go on being our precious baby. If you grow up to be half as cute and full of gumption as your momma, you’ll make some fortunate man an amazing wife someday.”

  He kissed Grace’s head and continued rocking her for a while until the clock chimed four. “I reckon I could get the chores done early. Your momma has been fussing to go into town to get supplies for Thanksgiving. I can hardly believe it’s coming up in a few weeks. Just yesterday, it seems like it was the beginning of summer.”

  J.B. rubbed circles across the baby’s back and grinned when she sighed in her sleep and snuggled against him.

  “Not that your momma doesn’t always fix a good meal, but we’ll have so many delicious things to eat. She’s promised to make pumpkin pies and a batch of pralines. She said if I can find cranberries, she’ll even make that sauce I like so well.” J.B. bent down and kissed his daughter’s head. “Since we moved here, we’ve been so blessed, Grace. First, we met our nice neighbors who helped us build the barn and house. Then we hired three good men to work for us. We cleared sagebrush off almost a full section of the land and planted wheat and pasture grass. My cousin Jess came and stayed to help us all summer before he headed south for the winter. Just wait until spring when I buy cattle. This will really seem like a ranch then. The ground is excellent and the soil rich. We shouldn’t have any problem making a life here, sweet girl. But before we have spring, we’ll have to make it through the winter. As cold as it’s been the last few days, I’m sure it won’t be long before there is snow on the ground. I bet you’ll love playing in the snow, Gracie. As soon as you grow a little bigger, I’ll get you some ice skates and make you a toboggan. It’ll be grand.”

  The baby moved her fist toward her mouth, as though she might be hungry. Lest he awaken her and Nora, he kissed Grace’s head again then tucked her back into her cradle. With the blanket snug around her, he kissed the baby once more then set the hand-carved cradle into motion, smoothly rocking back and forth.

  He’d been as surprised as Nora when Mr. and Mrs. Erikson had brought it over for them to use a month before Grace made her arrival. In spite of her shy manner, Mrs. Erikson seemed quite eager for Nora to use the cradle that had once belonged to her son. Erik, a boy of five, trailed after his father like a shadow. He was a quiet child, but J.B. could see he was intelligent, absorbing every word he heard and action he witnessed.

  The Erickson farm was located on the north side of Nash’s Folly and the Norwegian couple were their closest neighbors. He and Nora liked the friendly, albeit soft-spoken people who occasionally had to search for the English word they wanted to say. They were hardworking, kind, and J.B. had learned a wealth of information about the area from Einar Erickson. His wife had shared baskets of fruit from the trees they’d planted near the creek on their property and helped Nora can jars of peaches and pears. A few times, they’d even joined together for dinner or a Sunday afternoon picnic.

  J.B. was grateful to have upright, honest neighbors he could trust. Especially when they doted over his daughter like she was the most splendid thing to ever arrive in Umatilla County.

  He brushed a hand over the baby’s back and tucked the blanket up a little higher around her before he quietly pulled on his boots. He bundled up in his warm coat, rammed his fingers into a pair of gloves, and stepped outside to see to the morning chores.

  No longer bothered by the nightmare that had drawn him from his warm bed, J.B. made his way to the barn where they kept the mules and horses along with three milk cows. He’d managed to buy two pigs not long after they arrived. With the help of their neighbor to the west, Marvin Tooley, they’d butchered the hogs several days ago. Hams and bacon cured in the smokehouse and Nora had filled crocks with lard and sausage and left them in the springhouse. He hoped she planned to fry a few sausages for breakfast. With eggs and hot biscuits, it was a feast fit for a king.

  Or at least a hungry rancher.

  J.B. smiled to himself as he lit a lantern in the barn and closed the door to keep out the cold. Their dog, Bing, whined and brushed against J.B.’s leg, seeking attention.

  “Did I wake you, boy? Huh?” J.B. asked, bending over to pet the dog and scratch his ears. He’d found the half-grown mutt digging in a barrel of garbage one day when he was in town and decided to bring him home. Nora had taken one look at the starved animal and declared him their new dog. She gave the smelly animal a bath and fattened him up, but then he expected no less of Nora. His wife was a big-hearted, giving soul who filled the world around her with joy and laughter, fun and happiness.

  J.B. had no idea what he’d do without Nora beside him and he never wanted to find out. Now, with baby Grace, his life felt unbelievably complete and filled with purpose. He knew he could carve out a successful ranch and a wonderful future for his little family here in the hills near Pendleton. Come spring, when the wheat began to sprout, the pasture grass turned a lush, verdant green, and the cattle he’d already arranged to purchase arrived, Nash’s Folly would truly be their ranch. Not just a dream, but a reality.

  He and Nora had been careful with their funds. Instead of the big house he planned to build, Nora insisted they could start with a small house and build onto it later. She’d traded a few fancy gowns from when she attended a finishing school in New York to a woman in town for her slightly used parlor furniture.

  J.B. had a fit when he discovered what she’d done, but Nora merely shrugged and said she didn’t need the ball gowns out here in the West. Although Nora rarely discussed it, he knew she hadn’t enjoyed the time she’d spent at the finishing school.

  When her mother had died giving birth to her, her father had no idea what to do with a baby girl. Charlie’s wife’s mother had taken over Nora’s care. Nora spent her early years living with her grandparents in Council Bluff. When she was six, her father brought her out to the ranch for a visit and Nora refused to leave. Admiring her pluck, Charlie had let her stay, although her grandmother made the trip out to check on her at last once a week. When Nora turned fifteen, her grandmother insisted she attend a finishing school, even though the country was in the midst of a war. She returned with polished manners, but more determined than ever to remain on the ranch. By that time, her brothers were listed as missing and the toll the war had taken on her father was notable.

  J.B. was sure poor Charlie would have died from a broken heart when he discovered his sons were lost to him if it hadn’t been for Nora. She was the light that shone out of the bleakness that surrounded them all. Nora had certainly helped heal his wounds, both physically and mentally.

  Even though he wasn’t all that much older than her, J.B. felt he’d lived a thousand lifetimes from the moment he’d decided to join the Union’s fight until he met Nora.

  The day he left to join the Army, he’d given his mother a jaunty wave from the end of their lane and promised her he’d be back before she knew it. His father and older brother had gone off to fight months before that, but his mother begged J.B. to stay. The day aft
er he turned seventeen, he packed a bag with his belongings and assured his mother he’d whip the confederates and be home next week for supper.

  Four long, horror-filled years later, he had shrapnel wounds across his chest that refused to heal, a lung one doctor told him was probably consumptive, and a broken spirit. He’d returned to his family’s farm in Missouri to find it had been burned to the ground by raiders. The men who burned it had beaten his mother and dragged her out to the barnyard to watch as they slaughtered the stock and set fire to the house.

  A neighbor had found Ma, but she’d died two days later. The same neighbor had told J.B. what happened, along with the news that his father and brother had died in the war. Unable to bear the thought of rebuilding in a place that would never again seem like home, he sold the land, packed his saddlebags, and left. He made a routine of never staying anywhere long, working a few days then returning to the road. When he reached Omaha, he’d only intended to find enough work to last a few days, maybe a week if he really liked it there. Then he’d seen Nora’s smile and the world suddenly seemed bright once again instead of shrouded in layers of black.

  She’d saved him, from himself and the dark road he’d travelled.

  Mindful of the somber musings filling his thoughts, J.B. gave the dog one last scratch behind the ears then went to work milking the cows.

  By the time he fed the chickens, gathered the eggs, and turned the mules and horses out into the corral attached to the back of the barn, his hired men were stirring in the bunkhouse. It was really just two rooms: a big kitchen and another room with beds and shelves for their belongings. Someday, he hoped it would be filled with men willing to do their best to help make Nash’s Folly a prosperous ranch.

  J.B. left milk in a dish for a stray cat who’d taken up residence in the barn. If she had kittens, he planned to bring one in the house for Nora. Despite their best efforts, it was hard to keep the mice at bay.