Driscoll's Daughter

By Paula Freda

A clean inspirational contemporary western romance novella...
Driscoll's Daughter
(A Sequel to "Driscoll's Lady)

When Lexie accepted Chris' proposal, she felt no doubt. At her father's insistence they agreed to wait at least until she had finished college, especially if she planned to help Chris with his dream of one day owning a horse ranch of his own. Chris had opted for a trade and agricultural school, learning how to farm and breed horses. Perhaps if they had attended the same college, she might be Chris' wife today, but the distance and the separations, and the new world that Lexie suddenly found herself in, was too much of a distraction. Suddenly there were handsomer and smarter young men who wanted to date her, despite the engagement ring she wore. After a while she grew tired of having to flash the ring in their faces, not to mention she wanted to date them. Her world now included a much vaster realm than the two ranches and small schools in which she had grown up. On the evening of her graduation, with her parents and Chris present, she broke off her engagement and broke his heart along with it.

Now, two years later, living in New York and dating Jim, her boss' son, Lexie has serious doubts about her present relationship. Faced with her mother's discerning wit, she can no longer deny the truth. "Mom, I miss my home, the country, our way of life at the ranch, the snow-capped mountains, the wide open spaces, riding the fields, the prairies and hiking the rolling hills heavy with spruce. And I miss..."
Lexie's voice trailing off on a pause, as though she'd stopped herself from saying more, did not escape her mother's notice.
"And you miss...?" Leatrice asked gently.
Lexie's eyes filled with tears, but she quickly lifted her free hand and brushed them away. "And," she added shamefaced, "I miss Chris' love and caring ways. I miss the good times, and the carefree fun we shared."
Learice asked, "Chris' love and caring ways, the good times, the carefree fun — but doesn't Jim supply that?"
"Yes, but...Oh, it's just not the same. He's not Chris," she said.. "Not by a long run," she added, falling back on a childhood idiom.
"In other words," Leatrice clarified, "You're still in love with Chris."
Lexie nodded. Hearing the words from. her mother who had always understood her better than anyone, even her father, as much as he cared for her, there was no escaping the truth. She had made a terrible mistake breaking off her engagement to Chris and splitting his heart in two. He hated her now....

(Also includes first two chapters of "Driscoll's Lady")

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paula Freda
• Release date: Jun 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301540860

Paula Freda

About the AuthorDorothy Paula Freda, is also known under her pen names Paula Freda and Marianne Dora Rose. Herbooks range from Fiction and Non-fiction Adventure, Romance, Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Poetry, Articles, Essays and How-to-Write Instructional complete with Lessons and optional assignments.Homemaker, mother of two grown sons, and former off-the-desk publisher of a family-oriented print small press, (1984 thru 1999), The Pink Chameleon, that she now publishes on line, Paula was raised by her grandmother and mother, and has been writing for as long as she can remember. Even before she could set pencil to paper, she would spin her stories in the recording booths in the Brooklyn Coney Island Arcades for a quarter per 3-minute record. She states, "I love the English language, love words and seeing them on display, typed and alive. A romantic at heart, I write simply and emotionally. One of my former editors kindly described my work, '...her pieces are always deep, gentle and refreshing....'" Paula further states, "My stories are sensitive, deeply emotional, sensual when appropriate, yet non-graphic, family fare, pageturners. My hope is that my writing will bring entertainment and uplift the human spirit, bring a smile to your face and your soul, and leave you filled with a generous amount of hope."

Book preview

DRISCOLL'S

DAUGHTER

by Paula Freda

Driscoll's Daughter

(a sequel to Driscoll's Lady)

Novella by Paula Freda

Copyright 2013 by Dorothy Paula Freda

(Pseudonym - Paula Freda)

Smashwords Edition

Cover Insert Photo - Licensed by Paula Freda from iStockphoto.com

Image of our Lady of the Rockies

Wikipedia.com - Flickr.com - (ArtBrom)

Creative Commons - Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic (CC BY-SA 2.0)

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof. This is a work of fiction; names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Dedication

With thanks to my Dear Lord Jesus and his Blessed Mother Mary whose strength, guidance, and her Holy Rosary, are my anchor in this troubled world, I dedicate this book to my husband, Domenick, whose love, patience and kindness over the past 42 years have kept my dreams and view of the romantic alive and vibrant.

Paula Freda

CHAPTER ONE

He loves me, He loves not,

Tread gently my soul

Beyond the next corner

Love's sweet splendor awaits you.

Exasperated, Seth picked up the gilt-framed photo displayed on the fireplace mantle, of his daughter at age six.

Everyone ignores me! Lexie's usual lament in the most miserable six-year-old voice she could muster, when she couldn't get her way. You never listen, you just ignore me, she'd wail, eyes the color of light blue crystal filling with tears, and the promise of full lips pouting.

That's cause you always have see-through excuses for not listening to me or your mother, Seth would tell her, his normal gravelly voice sounding gruffer than he meant it to. Near to impossible to reprimand his daughter when she looked at him with that pout or those eyes. Lexie inherited her mother's eyes, not to mention her stubbornness and her determination. Eighteen years later, at age twenty-four, Lexie was smarter, more sensible, but as stubborn and determined as her mother when he first met her. Not that Leatrice became docile or easily compliant, but she still loved him, an unreasonable daughter and two rambunctious sons later. The silver strands weaving through her chestnut hair only added to her matte, refined beauty. The ranch workers still referred to her as Driscoll's Lady.

On Lexie's sixth birthday, when she ran out of the main house in a huff, hands on hips, and face scrunched with tears running down her cheeks, red with fury, screaming, I won't, I won't go to school! the ranch hands good-naturedly nicknamed her, Driscoll's Daughter. Of course, Leatrice recognized herself at that age. She quickly interposed herself between father and daughter. It's okay, Seth, calm down. I know how to handle this. And she did. Taking Lexie into the country, and reasoning and explaining that the only way she would be free to be her own self, was if she received a good education, learned self-restraint, and created a good life for herself.

Somehow, mother got through to her daughter, and the next morning, having already missed kindergarten, Lexie began first grade.

But now a far more serious problem than starting first grade loomed over his daughter, and he doubted that even Leatrice's reasoning powers could get through to her, this time.

He sensed Leatrice enter the family room of their spacious ranch on the Triple R. He always sensed when she came into a room. She had that sort of presence.

Shortly after Lexie's birth, he caved in to Leatrice's request that they tear down the old main house with its antiquated plumbing and fixtures, and build an up-to-date — for that time — elegant ranch house. There was very little Seth wouldn't do for Leatrice once he'd consigned his heart fully into her keeping. And he didn't mind, because he seriously doubted that any other woman could love him the way she did, heart, body and soul. So he gave her free rein. Leatrice, wealthy, and heir to an affluent and distinguished family from the Catskills in New York, created a home he could not help but like, gracious and elegant, but not ostentatious. Nothing at all like the luxurious Bar LB cattle ranch she mortgaged to him. She pleaded with him to let her gift it to him, but on his insistence, finally agreed to sell it to him. She understood — a matter of a man's pride. And after what she went through to prove herself to him the year before their marriage, his pride and beliefs about spoiled rich Eastern women didn't stand a chance fighting his own attraction and desire for Leatrice.

He'd never regretted marrying her. There was a saying on his ranch that only one man had the strength to withstand the rock hardness, the authoritative and indomitable pull of her eyes, the color of crystal under a clear morning sky — eyes that would fell a lesser man than Seth, the man in front of whom she'd lower that gaze humbly with love, though it rarely came to that. Over the years, their love grew, and their hearts melded as one. Linda, a country girl he'd once considered marrying, swore they would never last, until she found her own true love and realized that Seth would never be the man for her. A few months ago, he celebrated his twenty-fifth anniversary married to the woman he loved more than life itself. He always hoped the same for their daughter and their sons. But if Lexie exemplified the future, it looked to be trouble in heaven for the next twenty-five years.

Seth shook his head as he replaced the photo back on the fireplace mantle.

Leatrice approached him. What's wrong, dearest? You're worried about her, aren't you? she asked.

Her voice had softened somewhat with the years, but it was still beautiful to him. It brought to mind gold coins landing gently on a mirrored surface. Seth turned and closed the space between them. Without thinking, and out of habit, he closed his arms about her. Leatrice nestled her head against his chest. Seth rested his chin on the chestnut brown and silver strands. Lee, sweetheart, I'm at wit's ends with Lexie. Bad enough she moved to New York after college. What's she thinking agreeing to move in with that lawyer friend. Didn't we bring her up better than that? He won't even meet us. A lame excuse, he can't leave his clients. Think it's her doesn't want us to meet him. What's she afraid of?

That you'll hate him, Leatrice whispered against his chest.

The plaid shirt, black and red, wasn't enough to keep the heat of her breath from warming the flesh beneath and fueling anew his desire for her that had never left him. He gently let go and took a step back. Well, I already dislike him.

"He did propose