A heart remembered, p.1
A Heart Remembered, page 1
A HEART REMEMBERED
A BURNING DRESS RANCH NOVELETTE
HEATHER BLANTON
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Sneak Peek - A Forgotten Heart
A Heart Remembered © copyright 2022 Heather Blanton
(A Burning Dress Ranch Novelette)
DISCLAIMER
All the characters described in this story are fictional. They are not based on any real persons, past or present. Any resemblance to real persons, living or deceased, is coincidental and unintended.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
* * *
All rights reserved.
A big thank you to Lisa Coffield, Amy Petrowich, and Trudy Cordle for reading and editing this book, and Virginia McKevitt of Black Widow Books for designing the beautiful cover!
A HEART REMEMBERED
The past is dead. Now bury it...
Drucilla comes to Burning Dress Ranch eager to leave her ugly past behind and pursue a bright, new future. Training as a ranch nurse, her impact on lives could go forward for generations. Struggling, though, to believe that her former life as a prostitute does not define her, Drucilla needs to hear the Truth spoken in love. The mysterious ranch owner Miss Sally can give her Truth. Can Pastor Barton Hayes give her love?
Or will Drucilla fall back into a grave of sin and darkness?
* * *
◆◆◆The prequel to A Forgotten Heart…
GET A FREE BOOK!
Visit
Authorheatherblanton.com
to receive updates on my new releases.
And if you subscribe to my fun, sometimes sassy, always thought-provoking newsletter,
You'll receive a FREE e-book—
A Lady in Defiance, The Lost Chapters
Subscribe today!
PROLOGUE
“How old are you?”
The girl raised her chin and puffed out her chest. “I’m six.”
The young Pony Express rider swished the reins back and forth and glanced around the deserted way station again. No people. No horses in the corral. Just a lone, little girl with a confused stare sitting in a rocking chair, gazing out at the prairie.
As long as she didn’t look behind the house.
He’d come across the arrow-riddled bodies of the station managers out back. A man and probably his wife. Killed in a swift, silent attack.
The rider swallowed the fear rising up in his gut. He’d been warned working for the Express would take everything a sixteen-year-old boy had. So far, he’d been chased by a bear and shot at by Indians. Nothing had scared him as much, though, as this silent, eerie stop along his route. He couldn’t shake the sensation someone was watching, and his skin rippled with goosebumps.
“So, you woke up and everyone was gone?” he said, coming back to the little girl.
“Yep.”
“You didn’t hear or see anything?”
“Nope.”
He studied the ground. A dozen unshod ponies had come through. It wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened. The band of warriors had killed the family running this station and stolen the horses. But why had they not killed or taken this girl?
“Where were you sleeping?”
“My play house.”
He didn’t understand.
The girl pointed at a tall cottonwood about a hundred yards off.
“Papa built me a shelf up there and sometimes he’d tell me to go up and play real quiet.”
Things began to make sense to the boy. “Your Papa. He told you to go up there today?”
“Uh-hmm. Told me to stay put ’til he come and got me. But it was hot. My dolly and me fell asleep. When I woke up, I was real thirsty.” Her face fell. “I waited as long as I could but I needed something to drink.”
“I see. Of course.”
“I—I was afraid to look for Mama and Papa for some reason. I just sat down here to wait for ‘em.”
The boy let out a long, sad sigh. He hated to leave bodies untended, but he couldn’t imagine burying them in front of this little girl. Besides, it was more important to tend to the living. Maybe, once he had a fresh horse, when he came back this way. Maybe then he would bury them…
“I think it would be best if I took you back to the station at Big Piney. Come with me?” He extended his hand.
“My mama and papa. Are they at Big Piney?”
His heart broke for the little girl. “Come with me and I’ll try to explain, but we can’t stay here.”
Somehow he knew the Indians would come back this way. And why not? There was no one here to stop them.
“Was it the Indians? Did they scare off Mama and Papa and take our horses?”
“Something like that.”
She pulled a little cornhusk doll out from beneath her pinafore and stood. “Then we need to keep Madeline safe. She’s scared the Indians might come back.”
So was he.
She walked up to the rider and he lifted her easily, dropping her into the saddle in front of him. The girl tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and then hooked the doll’s legs around the saddle horn.
“All right?” he asked.
“All right.”
“I’m going to let Dutch here have some water and then we’ll be on our way.”
Eyes and ears alert for the slightest sound, he nudged the horse and he ambled over to the trough. The rider wished for grain for the animal, too, but decided it would have to wait. It was a long way back to Big Piney and he sensed death was still prowling the area. The little orphan had escaped the Grim Reaper and he would do everything he could to keep it that way.
His route for the Express would just have to wait a day.
CHAPTER 1
15 Years Later…
* * *
The jailer’s keys clanged on the bars, startling Drucilla out of her weepy thoughts.
“It’s time,” Miss Sweeney said, unlocking the cell door.
Drucilla took a deep breath and stood. Her time was up. Now, to face the next stage of this journey. She gazed lovingly at the corn husk doll in her valise, then closed the lid and grabbed the handle. Squaring her shoulders, she smiled at Sweeny. “I’m ready.”
Sweeny motioned for her to step out, then closed the door behind her. She and the jailer walked toward the huge, wooden door at the end of the hallway.
“You know what’s waiting for you on the other side?” the jailer asked.
“Sadly, I have no idea.”
“Never heard back from Burning Dress?”
Drucilla shook her head.
“Oh.” Sweeny seemed as sad about it as Drucilla. “Well, we didn’t know for sure what was happening, but some of us…” She pulled a small, velvet bag from the front pocket of her apron. “We wanted you to have this. It’s twenty-five dollars. Maybe it will get you somewhere…somewhere better than Denver.”
Drucilla teared up at the kind offer from the female prison guards. “I-I can’t—”
Sweeney stopped. “Yes, you can,” she said, putting the money in Drucilla’s hand. “We’ve been here long enough to know the girls that choose trouble and the ones that get caught up in it.” They started walking again. “We don’t want to see you back here.”
Sweeny pushed open the massive door to the outside and the two women continued on across the exercise yard. The main gate was only a dozen yards away and a male guard waited to swing it open to freedom.
“I’ll do everything I can to…to avoid what I used…”
“If I get an answer from Burning Dress, I’ll find you.”
“I don’t know where I’ll be.”
“Somehow, I’ll get it to you.”
It would take a miracle. Drucilla didn’t believe in miracles. She barely believed in the kindness being offered by Sweeny. If the money hadn’t been shoved into her hand, she wouldn’t have believed in it. “Thank you,” she muttered. “Thank the others for me.”
Sweeny responded with a quick nod, then gave the guard a flick of her wrist. He pulled the gate open slowly. Drucilla turned to thank Sweeny one more time, but the woman was walking away. Sighing, Drucilla exited the Colorado Penitentiary for Women.
Outside, the long, straight, dusty road headed toward town. Mountains glimmered in the distance. Around her, wheat, swaying in the summer heat, extended from horizon to horizon. And there wasn’t a single soul in sight.
Resigned to walking the ten miles into town, fighting disappointment and fear, Drucilla took her first step. The heat on the road before her shimmered and then a buggy materialized. She stopped and blinked. How had she missed that?
The buggy drew closer. A slender, regal-looking woman of about fifty, with a long, silver braid hanging over her shoulder, steered the vehicle up to Drucilla. She wielded penetrating, unnerving blue eyes. Drucilla didn’t relax until a smile softened the woman’s expression.
“I’m Miss Sally. From Burning Dress Ranch. I hope you are Drucilla.”
Drucilla nearly fainted with relief.
“I take it from that look, you are Drucilla an
Drucilla took a deep, cleansing breath of relief. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Climb in.”
Drucilla obeyed and Miss Sally turned the buggy, glancing at Drucilla’s one, worn bag. “Not much luggage.”
“No.”
“All right, girl,” she said to the horse without slapping the reins. “Back to the livery.” The horse reacted instantly, impressing Drucilla with its uncanny obedience. “I’m sorry to surprise you like this,” Miss Sally continued, “but your letter was delayed. By the time I received it, I knew I’d beat a response, so here I am.”
“At least you're here.” Drucilla could barely hold back the tears. She’d had visions of sleeping in a livery…or worse. “I wasn’t sure—” Her voice broke and she stopped.
Miss Sally patted her on the leg. “It’s all right. Burning Dress is your home now.”
“Is it true, everything I’ve heard about your ranch?”
“No. It’s better.”
Facing a new future, one, in truth, that Drucilla hadn’t believed possible, fear suddenly caught up with her. She wondered if she was making a mistake. Did she have any business going to Burning Dress? Would she fit in there? Could she really leave her past behind?
Miss Sally apparently read her face. “You wrote me. I thought you wanted to come to Burning Dress.”
“I-I don’t know now. I’m such a mess. Done so many bad things. Can the ranch fix someone like me?”
“It’s not the ranch that will fix you. The power to change your life lies between you and the Lord. I’ll give you some tools, though.”
“I’m just a whore.” She hadn’t meant to say that aloud, but it had slipped past her lips. She’d heard it for so many years, the label was a drumbeat in her head.
Miss Sally didn’t seem to hear it, though, or she chose to ignore the remark. “We need a nurse,” she said in an abrupt change of direction. “What do you think about nursing?”
The offer shocked Drucilla. How often had she dreamed of such a proud, humble, and helpful profession? But she had never told a soul, believing it was a dream beyond her reach. How could Miss Sally…?
“Not a full blown nurse of course. Not one with a degree. A ranch nurse. But when your training is done, you’ll be well qualified to work in a hospital, on a ranch, wherever. You could even go to school for more training and be well ahead of other students.”
Drucilla’s head spun. She’d never considered nursing school. “O-okay. Yes. ”
“Good.”
A nurse. Helping people. Offering them compassion and healing. Working in a position of respect. Authority. Drucilla was almost giddy at the prospect. So different from—
“A woman doesn’t usually go to prison for prostitution. Pick up the pace, Mabel.” The horse responded without so much as a tug on the reins and increased her speed. “What was so special about your case?”
The zig-zag of the conversation flustered Drucilla for a moment. “Um, my customers. Two, to be specific. Brothers. One was running for the mayor of Golden.”
“I still don’t—”
“And the other was the town attorney. The attorney prosecuted me to the fullest extent of the law as a way to scandalize his brother, embarrass him out of the race. Then the attorney-brother stepped in and ran for the office himself.”
“But they both visited you at the…?”
“Yes, but the attorney had witnesses swear he never entered our establishment.”
“My, my, my. What a brazen liar.”
“Yes, they both were.”
Miss Sally was quiet for a long time, the only sound the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves. After a while, Denver sprouted from the prairie in front of them. The long, mournful whistle of an arriving train drifted over the swaying wheat.
Finally, Miss Sally spoke again. “How did you fall into your line of work?”
“Fall? That makes it sound like I had an accident and tripped. It was no accident. A family adopted me on my twelfth birthday. A woman came to the orphanage and said—”
“Said they would help you out. Take care of you. Give you a warm bed and three meals a day. You just had to do one tiny thing…entertain strangers. That it?”
Drucilla nodded, taken aback at the accuracy of the statement. Her throat tightened up and she couldn’t reply. Would the shame ever leave her?
“Temptations to sin are sure to come,” Miss Sally began with a cold, hard tone. “But woe to the one through whom they come.” The finality in her voice was biting, merciless. Drucilla almost felt sorry for the woman she had called Mother for nine years.
Almost.
“Oh, I should mention we have a traveling companion. Pastor Barton Hayes is going to Hell’s Half-Acre with us.”
“Hell’s Half-Acre? Wait.” Had she heard right? “A preacher?” she squawked. Why not just throw her in with a passel of nuns? How humiliating.
Miss Sally chuckled. “A preacher. And a carpenter. Give him half-a-chance. You might like him.”
To his great horror, Barton Hayes’s mother brushed off his lapels and straightened his jacket. Mortified, he stepped back, pushing her hands down and glancing around the train station to see if anyone had noticed. “Mother, please. I’m not six years old.”
“I know that…it’s just that I’m going to miss you so much.” His mother, beautiful, eloquent, a walking picture of grace, wealth, and perfect etiquette, stepped back, too, and gathered her wits. “I was so hoping you’d gotten this predilection for frontier living out of your system. Hoping even to the last moment.”
“I tried.” College, a few years in his father’s investment firm, even seminary. They had all nearly strangled the life out of him. But the calling to preach had grown as had his desire to return to the West again, and the Lord had been faithful to provide a place. And what a place. Hell’s Half-Acre.
“I know you did,” she said with a sigh. “And I appreciate that. You’re viewed as quite courageous by all my friends, though they don’t understand why you’d leave the comforts of St. Louis again. We all hoped you had it out of your system, that your teenage bravado had given way to maturity.”
Mother and her friends. No, he didn’t suppose any of the soft, spoiled women in her circle could understand anything about this decision. To them, the frontier was a terrifying place, not a place of freedom and liberation.
He kissed her on the forehead. “Now, don’t miss your train home. I’ll see you in a month?”
“Yes. Of course. Write if you need me to bring anything.”
“I will.” The boarding whistle screamed through the train station deafening, firm. “I have to go.” He started stepping away. “I love you. Tell Father I love him, too. You’ll be in my prayers every day.”
* * *
Barton hurried down the car’s aisle, his valise banging his knees as he rushed. He stopped at two women seated together and chatting, thinking the older one beneath a broad hat might be one of his traveling companions. “Excuse me, Miss Sally?”
The woman looked up and frowned at his interruption. “I beg your pardon?”
Not her. “My apologies.” He hurried further along and then he spotted a long, silver braid draped over a woman’s shoulder. Of course, he’d forgotten that little detail from her letter. He approached cautiously, started to speak when he noted the beautiful, angelic creature sitting beside her. Glimmering green eyes, hair the color of sunlight, delicate features pretty enough to be the face of a doll. Her eyes narrowed with fearful suspicion, however.
“Uh…” he managed, but words fled from him.
“Might you be Pastor Barton?” The older woman with the lustrous, silver hair said, a smile in her voice.
Good Lord, what’s the matter with me? Barton blinked and addressed her. “Miss Sally?”
“Yes.” They shook hands and then he dropped in the seat opposite the ladies. “And this is Drucilla Palin. One of the new guests at Burning Dress.”
