Brides of Cedar Creek

By Mildred Colvin

Brides of Cedar Creek is a Box Set covering a complete Christian historical romance series written by Mildred Colvin. Included in this clean inspirational romance set are:
Book 1—Cora’s Deception
Book 2—Eliza’s Mistake
Book 3—Rebekah’s Scorn
Book 4—Deborah’s Secret

Cora’s Deception
In 1833 Missouri, Cora Jackson refuses to lose herself on a prairie where the nearest neighbor is two miles away. She eagerly watches for her city beau who has promised to rescue her. Then she meets Aaron Stark who intrigues her and sets her heart pounding.

Betrayal, abandonment, and a brush with death shake Cora’s beliefs. Although she’s changed and can never return to the safe deceptions of her childhood, she still clings to them, wanting to believe what’s easier than truth. Love for Aaron grows during Cora’s turmoil, bringing safety and an anchor to her life—until George shows up.

Aaron falls in love when he sees Cora emerge from a hollowed sycamore tree after a blizzard. She’ll never love him. He can’t read or write, and he’s a dirt-poor farmer. Yet he wins Cora’s hand until her old beau steps between them with convincing words. How’s a fella supposed to know what to believe when everything points the wrong way?
Lies—easier to believe than truth.

Eliza’s Mistake
Grieving the loss of her mother, in 1836 Springfield, Missouri, Eliza Jackson tries to discourage her father’s interest in one woman by introducing him to another. Her father’s employee, James Hurley, delights in tormenting her, and she resists her attraction to him. One broken heart is enough for her.

James Hurley falls for Eliza but can’t get past her prickly attitude. He finally wins her affection, then someone tells her he’s been paid to court her. She turns to Trennen Von Hall, a young man of questionable intentions. But there’s nothing James can do if Eliza won’t listen to him.

When James believes all is lost and Eliza is ready to give up, she makes her biggest mistake yet. That one night changes her life as well as others. Yet out of the darkness comes good. Out of confusion comes a second chance.
Sometimes plans go wrong.

Rebekah’s Scorn
When Rebekah Newkirk’s fiancé runs away with another woman, her pride is hurt more than her heart. After being told once too often that everything will work out in God’s time as He brings her and the right man together, she decides to take matters into her own hands. If romantic love is real, it isn’t for her. She’ll find a man to marry all right, but love will not be a motivating factor. The man she needs only has to be God-fearing, not homely or dirty in his ways, and he must be of even temper. How simple is that?

Timothy Donovan, pastor of the church, has adopted Rebekah’s family as his own since he started the church three years before. He’s skeptical of Rebekah’s plans and concerned, but when she attracts a worthy man, Timothy decides to begin his own search for a wife. Only problem is, if true love is only an illusion, why does everything become so mixed up?
We don’t always see what’s in front of us.

Deborah’s Secret
Twice forced to marry a stranger.

Deborah Asberry’s father picked her first husband. Now she’s widowed, and her father is forcing her to marry again—this time to a widower with two small children who lives in southwest Missouri far from her St. Louis home. If only she could love and know the love of a gentle man, but she’s never disobeyed her father.

Dane Stark’s wife died in childbirth two months ago. He needs help with his children, but he’ll never place another woman in that same danger. By marrying a stranger, he believes he can keep his distance. Then he meets Deborah and longs for a normal marriage with her.
But Deborah harbors a secret that could tear apart the fragile thread holding Dane’s heart to hers. When another woman interferes, Deborah doesn’t know what to believe.
Can true love overcome any od

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mildred Colvin
• Release date: Dec 30, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311097705

Mildred Colvin

Mildred Colvin is a wife, mother of three, and grandmother to three beautiful girls. She started writing when her children were young as they asked for stories. Not from a book. No! They were only satisfied when she made up stories. As the stories grew, she wrote some down and sent them off to magazines. Eight were published before her imagination turned toward love stories, which is what she enjoys reading.She has been writing Christian or clean and wholesome romance since 2001. Over the years several readers from pre-teens to older kids in their eighties and nineties have written expressing their interest in her books. She always loves to hear about one of her stories touching someone's heart. Her purpose in writing is to encourage, entertain, and bless someone else.She lives in the United States and sets her characters in the middle states from Texas to Nebraska and Iowa and reaching across Illinois to Colorado. She also has an Oregon Trail series, but the Great Plains states are her favorite setting.She is active in a very special critique group and has written and published over 60 books in both historical and contemporary themes, and plans to continue writing as long as God allows. He has been good in giving her many ideas for stories. Maybe more than she will be able to finish, but she enjoys each one.Please take a moment to visit her website at www.mildredcolvin.weebly.com, and sign up for her Romantic Reflections Newsletter to learn when new books are released. Also learn of promotions and free books through her newsletter.And take a look at her books. You might find something you don't want to put down.

Book preview

Cedar Creek Brides Genealogy

Jackson Family

Orval Leonard Jackson & Opal Jane Melville

b. 1787 m. 1808 b. 1790

Children:

1. Victoria (Vickie) Opal Jackson

b. 1809

m. 1829 to John R. Merrill

Child:

Nicholas John Merrill

b. 1831

2.Benjamin (Ben) M. Jackson

b. 1812

3. Cordella (Cora) Jane Jackson

b. 1815

4. Elizabeth (Eliza) Irene Jackson

b. 1816

5. Abigail Anne Jackson

b. 1820 d. 1828

6. Leonard (Lenny) Orval Jackson

b. 1825

7. Nora Abigail Jackson

b. 1834

Stark Family

Walter Aaron Stark & Jennett Alice Wilkins

Children:

1. Aaron James Stark

2. Ralph Walter Stark

3. Ivy Jennett Stark

Newkirk Family

Henry Newkirk & Agnes Newkirk

Children:

1. Esther Newkirk

b. 1815

2. Rebekah Newkirk

b. 1817

3. Gilbert Newkirk

b. 1820

4. Margaret Newkirk

b. 1822

5. Arthur Newkirk

b. 1824

6. Gerard Newkirk

b. 1826

7. Joan Newkirk

b. 1829

8. Ellen Newkirk

b. 1833

Cora’s Deception

_____________

Mildred Colvin

Historical Christian Romance

Cora’s Deception

Copyright © 2011 by Mildred Colvin

All rights reserved

Cover design by Vanessa Riley

Photo © Bblood | Dreamstime.com

Cora’s Deception is a rewritten version of the original book formerly published as Cora by Barbour Publishing.

Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events, is entirely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means without permission in writing from its author except for brief quotations in printed reviews.

Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

DEDICATION

To the memory of my mother. Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised. Mom’s great-grandparents settled near Cedar Creek in southwest Missouri in 1832. These early pioneers are an inspiration for Cora and her family.

To Gail and the ladies of Infinite Characters who helped bring life to Cora’s Deception.

Also to Vanessa Riley for believing in this story enough to take her time and expertise in designing the cover and doing a great job.

Chapter One

St. Louis, Missouri, 1833

Cora Jackson took George Merrill’s hand and ran around the corner of the house.

Over here, Cora. Hurry. George pulled her toward the smoke house. He ducked his head and tramped through the doorway. Cora followed over the sill. They’d made a clean get-a-way. Even Eliza hadn’t seen them leave. Cora giggled as George closed the door, shutting out the bright, sunshiny day.

He frowned. What’s so funny? His eyes searched hers from under a narrowed brow. You’re moving, and I thought you loved me.

Oh, I do, George. Cora sobered. It wasn’t a game. She’d be leaving within the hour for the wilderness of Southern Missouri clear across the state from their home in St. Louis. This couldn’t be real. Even now the wagons waited in front, loaded to the hilt. Father and the other men had been working since before dawn getting things ready.

Why’d your father do this? Why would he give up a prosperous business here to settle in the wilderness? There’s nothing there, Cora. Your house sold. Where will you live? George acted as if this were her fault. He paced away then turned and glared at her. How will you train to be a lawyer’s wife in western Missouri? Even the Indians didn’t live there after the government gave it to them. I did some research when my brother said he was going with you. Did you know the Kickapoos receded it back to the government a little over a year ago?

Cora looked at him with wide eyes and shook her head. No. Why would they do that?

He snorted. Because it’s a wasteland, obviously. White men think they can live on land the savages refuse. Does that make sense to you?

She shook her head again as moisture filled her eyes. But I don’t want to go. I have to.

George threw his hands out in a helpless gesture. Don’t cry about it. We’ll still get married. I’ll need a good wife if I’m to be successful.

Cora stared into his eyes. Had he just complimented her? Or insulted her? She blinked away her tears. George had been her companion since she was five years old. He’d been the one who decided what they’d play and where they’d go.

We are still getting married, Cora. He glared at her.

Of course, George. I know that. She’d grown accustomed to his authority and fell in with his plans. She loved him and hated to see him disappointed. She’d stay in St. Louis if she could, but her father had his heart set on pioneering the wilds of Missouri. I don’t understand, George. What do you want? How can we get married if I’m not here?

Just be quiet. I’m thinking. He turned from her, rubbing the back of his neck.

Cora wrinkled her nose at George’s back. Father had already sold their home and his Chandler shop as well as his half of the cooperage. What could she do except join her family? Even George’s brother, John, who’d married Cora’s older sister, thought this move was a grand adventure.

Finally, he swung around to face her again. His frown relaxed. Maybe I’m looking at this all wrong. It could be for the best in the long run. I’ve got some time at Christmas. I’ll come for you then, and we can be married. We’ll have to live with my parents. His frown returned. This isn’t the way I’d planned. It’ll be another year before I even go to law school.

I’m sorry. Cora interlocked the fingers of both her hands and clutched them under her chin. What could she do to make him feel better?

His light blue eyes brightened. Oh, well, we should look at the ending rather than the obstacles along the way. By living with my mother, you’ll learn a great deal that will be helpful once I have my own practice.

Cora’s heart sank at this latest insult, for that’s what it was. Wasn’t it? Mother had trained her well to take care of a household. She didn’t need Mrs. Merrill’s instructions. George took her arms and pulled her close to him. His intent was easy to see as he lowered his head and slipped his arms around her. His lips had no sooner touched hers than Eliza’s voice penetrated the loose board walls of the smokehouse.

Cora! Where are you? Sounded like Eliza had rounded the back of the house.

Cora giggled.

George growled. Your little sister has great timing.

Cora. Eliza’s voice became louder and then fainter. She’d moved away.

George’s breath brushed Cora’s cheek. His lips touched the corner of her mouth, and she turned to him. The kiss was long and demanding. They’d shared kisses before, but never had George acted as if he would possess her. Could he miss her so much already?

Then his hand moved to her front and her breath caught. She jerked back, but his hold on her tightened. She struggled for freedom as he covered her mouth again. She felt his hand at the buttons of her bodice, his other arm a band of steel around her, drawing her close. She renewed her efforts and freed her mouth. Her breath came in short puffs. George, don’t do that. We mustn’t.

Don’t you love me, Cora?

Of course, I do. But—

Something hit the smokehouse door. Cora, I know you’re in there.

George let go with a curse.

Cora staggered, her hands shaking as she straightened her dress and re-buttoned her bodice. She moved back from George. All right, Eliza, what do you want?

Father says we’re leaving in twenty minutes. Mother wants you at the wagon in ten minutes. You’d better be there, too.

Tell Mother I will. In plenty of time. Cora shot a quick glance at George. His jaw clenched tight, his arms crossed over his chest.

Eliza’s voice slipped into a sassy singsong. Oh, Georgie. You can come, too, if you want to. We’d all love to tell you goodbye.

George’s expression grew dark as his eyebrows met above his nose.

Cora sighed. Her sister was only teasing. He took things so seriously. She’d never understand why he got in these moods. Eliza, I said I’d be there.

Silence stretched while Cora waited for another sound from her sister. George stood expressionless for several moments before he peeked through a crack in the door. He turned back to Cora, his frown smoothed away as he reached for her. She’s gone now.

Cora sidestepped his hands. The fun had evaporated from their little tryst. I’ve got to go. Please, come and say good bye to John and my family.

~*~

Cora stood on a high bluff in southwestern Missouri and peered down at the rushing river below. Two rivers, according to John. The Sac and the Osage flowed from two directions and joined below where she stood, making the Sac Osage River. Father said they’d be home tomorrow if they got an early start in the morning.

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. How could he ever call this wild country home? They’d traveled all day without seeing a single settlement. What would tomorrow bring?

A cold November wind blew across the river to loosen her coat and circle her body. She shivered, pulled the heavy coat closer around her shoulders, and turned back toward camp.

Eliza met her halfway. Cora, Mother called you three times. Couldn’t you hear?

Cora frowned. All she wanted was a few minutes of peace away from the others where she could think. What could be so important? No, I didn’t hear. What does she want?

In case you haven’t noticed, the sun is going down. Eliza gave her a smug look. If you want to sleep tonight, you’ll have to lay your bedroll out before it’s too dark to see what you’re doing.

Of course. It wasn’t as if they could be normal and expect to climb into a real bed at night. Cora’s teeth clenched as she followed her little sister to the wagons. She jerked the heavy quilts from the back and threw them on the ground. Animals slept outdoors, not people. Oh, but people did, too. How could she forget? She’d been sleeping in the cold for weeks with nothing between her and the glittering stars above. They winked at her now as if mocking her rebellious spirit. She kicked a rock away and spread her quilts near the others already laid out. Every night small, sharp rocks poked and bruised her body while howling coyotes struck fear to her heart. Even the fires that burned all night didn’t shut them up. A vision of her bedroom in the large, two-story brick house near downtown Saint Louis filled her mind.

A sudden flare of light, as her father threw a stick on the fire, startled Cora.

Father’s deep laugh brought warmth to her cheeks. Caught you daydreaming again, didn’t I, Cora girl? He patted her shoulder. Time to hit the hay. If we get on the road early enough in the morning, we should be there by dark tomorrow.

Then we can stop sleeping on the ground? Cora turned a hopeful gaze on her father.

He chuckled. Aw, it isn’t so bad. Think of this as an adventure, Cora. A chance to better ourselves.

She stared after him as he walked past the fire toward the wagons. How could his thinking have become so twisted? She sat on her rumpled bedroll and loosened her shoes. Vickie and John strolled by with their two-year-old son, Nicholas, between them. He hung on their hands and giggled when they swung him.

Lenny scrambled after their older brother, Ben, as he stepped away from camp and stumbled. Cora grinned. Lenny always tried to do whatever Ben did, even though he was ten years younger. Ben, at eighteen, barely tolerated his little brother’s presence.

Mother and Father secured the tarp on the wagon for the night before heading toward their pallets.

Eliza dropped to her bedroll near Cora’s and leaned back on her elbow. She brushed her light brown hair back from her eyes and sighed. I’ll be so glad when we get there, won’t you?

Cora’s frown settled back in place. I’d rather go home.

To what? Eliza raised her eyebrows. Father can’t sell candles with gaslights on every street corner. Before long no one will be using candles, anyway. Not even in their homes.

Cora shaded her eyes as if trying to see into the distance. Well, what do you know? I don’t see any gaslights out here. She hated the harsh sound of her voice, but couldn’t stop. There probably won’t be ever. It may be ages before any spread this far west. And if they did, it looks like Father could have helped Uncle Sidney in the cooper shop. She lowered her voice. Father just wanted something new. An adventure is what he wants.

Eliza shrugged. Maybe. But what difference does it make? Besides, Uncle Sidney doesn’t need any help. She sat up and pulled off her shoe, setting it neatly to the side of her bedroll. Besides, you want to go home so you can be with George.

Cora tossed first one shoe and then another to the end of her bedroll and slipped between the quilts. I don’t see where George is any of your concern. She plopped to her side with her back to Eliza.

Quiet descended as the rest of the family settled down to sleep. An occasional coyote and the late night call of a hoot owl sounded, making Cora’s heart jump. How could she sleep like this? She flounced and tried to concentrate on George. He said he’d come for her. Now would be a good time.

~*~

Mother! Lenny’s screams pierced Cora’s sleep. She sat up, immediately awake.

A strange, fiery light streaked across the dark sky, plunging close to the earth before disappearing. One after another, the fire lights came without end. Cora sat spellbound while her heart nearly burst in frenzied fear. Had her complaining spirit brought this on? In her imagination she saw God pluck and hurtle the stars toward their camp.

We’ll be killed. Eliza clambered over the quilts and grabbed Cora in a death grip. Sobs shook her frame.

Vickie clung to her husband, crying against his chest, their young son pressed between them. It’s the end of the world. It is, isn’t it, John? Her voice barely reached Cora’s comprehension.

I don’t know. John’s voice trembled. He looked wild-eyed at the sky. No, of course not.

What is going on, Father? Ben always tried to put on a brave front. There must be some logical explanation.

Father shook his head. Probably. Looks like every star in the sky is going to fall tonight. I’ve heard of meteor showers. Maybe that’s what this is.

Cora clutched Eliza close as the frightful display continued. Fear invaded her heart. Was this the judgment of God on a wicked world? Once a visiting minister had come to their church and talked of God’s judgment to come. He paced back and forth behind the pulpit, his face red, his eyes bulging as he shouted accusations and threats against the congregation. Cora squirmed that morning, wishing she could shut out the frightful words.

Later, when church ended, Mother told her not to worry about things like that. God didn’t judge good people. Father said their quiet, educated pastor shouldn’t have allowed such a man to take over his pulpit.

Still, the spectacular scene continued above Cora’s head, and she wondered. She knew deep in her heart she wasn’t always such a good person. Maybe she was too rebellious. Flaming fragments of rock streaked through the atmosphere and burned out before plunging to the earth below. An occasional ping sounded as one hit nearby and she cringed from the sound. But none touched any of them. Surely, Mother was right. God didn’t punish good people. Her family attended church. They had for as long as Cora could remember.

She closed her eyes, and with tears streaming down her cheeks, prayed that God would spare their lives. Surely, this was a sign that the wilderness was not habitable. This would not have happened in Saint Louis.

Cora’s body grew stiff from holding Eliza until the fiery missiles began to thin and stopped with the first rays of the sun reaching toward them from the eastern horizon. Eliza pulled away and Cora flexed her muscles. She was cold and stiff. Sharp prickles ran the length of her legs when she moved them.

Ouch! She stretched out and lay down, letting circulation return.

Eliza had no such problem. She stood and started folding her bedroll. Looks like we aren’t going to die after all.

If Cora could’ve moved, she’d have given her sister more than a withering look. Would her heart ever beat normally again? The Kickapoo Indians gave the land back. George’s words haunted her. Now she understood why. Indians were smarter than white men. How can you be so calm after all we just went through?

I don’t guess I’m all that calm inside, but it’s over now. There’s really no sense in sitting around worrying about what’s done. Eliza lifted her bedroll. You’d better get your stuff put away. Father said he wanted to get an early start.

Cora made a face at her sister’s back. If last night wasn’t God’s judgment for their wrong doings, it was a warning. A warning to stay out of this forsaken land. But Father would never turn back. Mother, too, seemed happy to be leaving her beautiful home where every modern convenience had been hers.

Cora sat up and looked at each member of her family. Vickie and John thought they were going to a Garden of Eden where they could raise a family in paradise and John could farm his own land. To Ben, this move was an adventure. Eliza always agreed with their parents so her opinion didn’t count. Lenny and Nicholas were too young to have an opinion. Was she the only one who wanted to go home?

Cora. Mother’s gentle hand on her shoulder brought little comfort. We’ve all had a terrible fright, but it’s over. Let’s get our things picked up. The sooner we get started, the sooner we’ll be at our new home.

What home? The words burst from Cora’s mouth.

Reproach shone in her mother’s brown eyes before she sighed. I’ll need help with breakfast. As soon as your bed is on the wagon and you’ve cleaned up a bit, please peel some potatoes.

Cora’s shoes were always hard to find. She searched through the quilts and finally dug them out. As soon as she pulled them on, she rolled her quilts and tossed them on top of the others in the wagon. She grabbed a washcloth and towel then made the precarious descent down to the riverbank to join her sisters at the river’s edge.

Vickie filled a washbasin with cold water and washed Nicholas who was doing a good job of dancing out of her reach.

Cora rolled her eyes at the depth her family had sunk. Why didn’t you heat the water?

Vickie held her son in place with a hand on his arm. Because I didn’t have time. You don’t either. Father wants to get on the road, and we still have to eat.

I have to wash in cold water? Cora splayed her hand across her chest.

Vickie laughed. It won’t hurt you. Look at Nick. He’s a brave, little pioneer.

Nicholas looked up at Cora, and an exaggerated shiver shook his small frame. Nickus told.

Vickie scooped him up in a blanket, and Cora frowned. He’ll probably catch his death. All of us will. I don’t know why we had to come here.

Eliza dumped her wash water and straightened. Oh, Cora, it isn’t as bad as you’re making it. You don’t have to wash everything. Just hit what shows to get some of the road dust off. You’d better hurry. Mother’s starting breakfast now, and you’re supposed to be peeling potatoes.

Eliza and Vickie began the upward climb to camp, leaving Cora to grumble about the injustice of her life. Already her early morning fear had faded.

~*~

They had an earlier than normal start that morning, yet the afternoon sun hung low on the horizon before Father raised his hand. "Whoa. This is it. We’re home.

Home? They’d bounced and swayed for over two hours on an old Indian trail that followed the Sac River. Then they had to cross a wide creek before they could eat lunch. Now they’d finally arrived. But where? Her gaze swept the waving brown prairie grass and the distant forest with its splashes of color as if a giant artist had cleaned his brush of yellows, reds, and various shades of orange. The creek, a ribbon of sparkling water, wound past where they stood.

Cora sought some indication of human habitation—and saw none. Her heart sank. Surely this was not the end of their journey. They couldn’t stay here without any house or neighbors. She folded her arms to stop the tremble. George was right. There was nothing here but wilderness. This was a wild country fit only for animals and an Indian hunting ground.

Father would see how impossible this place was. They’d go back home. Hope flared within her breast as she pushed through the waist-high grass to his side. Father, this isn’t your land, is it?

His light blue eyes shone with the pride of ownership. This is it. It’s a beauty, isn’t it?

But Father. There’s nothing here. Cora grabbed a handful of grass and broke it off. Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she held it out to him. Look at this. You can’t even see the ground for it. How can we walk through this? We can’t live like animals. We need a house. What if the stars fall again? There aren’t any streets. No town. No people. Her voice cracked as she fought tears.

Father seemed to notice her for the first time. He looked into her eyes. Of all my children, Cora, I expected you to understand. This is our dream. We’ll make a home here. It’s bought and paid for. Over a hundred acres of Jackson land. Never again will I bend over a hot vat of molten wax. He spread his arms wide, taking a deep breath. What you see is ours, Cora. Smell the fresh air. Fill your lungs with it. Breathe deeply. That’s something you can’t do in a stuffy candle shop. Don’t you agree this is better?

Cora shook her head, holding back the urge to cry. I don’t know, Father.

He smiled and patted her shoulder. This is a new country, Cora. We have the privilege of building it up. Soon others will come. Don’t worry. One day you’ll have your town. Come, let’s set up camp. We’ll build a shelter tomorrow. You’ll get used to country life.

He turned away, issuing orders to the others. A single drop slipped from Cora’s eye and she brushed it away. How could she ever get used to this? A cold gust of wind crossing the creek blew against her face. Dampness coated the air. Winter would soon be upon them, and they had no home. She dragged her steps as she helped her family because there was nothing else she could do. Christmas and George seemed so far away.

Chapter Two

Cedar Creek, Southwestern Missouri

Cora dreamed she was locked outside her home in Saint Louis. She pushed with all her might against the door and couldn’t get in. Fiery lights streaked through the sky, but cold, damp air stung her face and crept down her neck, chilling her. She shivered. Her fingers wrapped around the doorknob. It turned to ice in her hands.

Cora. George called her name. Where was he? Inside? Again he called. He must be in the warmth of the house. She pounded the door. Why wouldn’t he let her in? She tugged the icy knob and shook the door. She knocked until her knuckles hurt.

Cora. He called again.

George. She tried to get his name past her frozen lips.

Cora, wake up. Rough hands grabbed her, pulling her away from her home. Away from George and everything familiar. Her eyes opened to narrow slits, and Eliza’s face came into focus. Cora, are you going to sleep all morning? We have to help Mother with breakfast.

A shiver trailed through Cora’s body, and she pulled her covers closer. Her fingers found a frozen dampness in the cloth.

Oh, there’s frost on my quilt. Cora glared at Eliza as if she were at fault. How can you stand this? Don’t you know it’s almost winter, and we don’t even have a real bed, let alone a house to put it in? We sleep on the ground of all things. It’s freezing out here.

Sh-h-h. Eliza put her finger to her lips. You’d better not let Mother or Father hear you talking like that. They’re doing the best they can. It wouldn’t hurt you to help out once in a while.

Guilt drove away Cora’s angry words. She sat up, threw off the covers and reached for her shoes. A blast of cold air hit her, and she shivered again. Where were her shoes? Why did she always have to look for them? She rummaged through the rumpled covers and felt a nudge against her shoulder.

Looking for these? Eliza shoved her shoes at her. If you’d put them in the same place every night, you’d know where to find them the next morning.

I know that. Cora grabbed the shoes and shoved them on her feet. Little sisters could be such nuisances. Especially know-it-all little sisters.

She didn’t bother rolling her damp quilts, but carried the pile toward the wagon. Maybe there’d be room to spread them out to dry.

She walked past the fire where Father and John were warming their hands. We’d better get some temporary shelter up before we even think of starting on a house.

Cora stopped to listen. Father, his coat buttoned to his chin, clutched a warm cup of coffee.

John lowered a steaming cup from his lips. Sounds like a wise decision. Think we can get something up before night?

Father nodded. It shouldn’t take too long with three of us working. We need to break down one of the wagons first so we can haul logs on it.

Cora, can you watch the bacon? Mother held out a long-handled fork.

Cora tossed her quilts over the wagon’s tailgate and hurried toward the fire. Nicholas ran past her toward Vickie. Blow, Mama, blow.

Vickie pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and held it to his nose. She looked up at John from her crouched position. This is the third time this morning I’ve had to do this. I’m afraid he’s getting a cold. Sleeping on the ground in this weather isn’t healthy.

We’re doing what we can. John frowned and squatted down before his son. You’re not going to get sick, are you, tough guy?

Uhn-uh. Nicholas shook his head, his large brown eyes serious.

John grinned and patted his back. That’s a good boy. John rose. Maybe we’ll have a better place to sleep tonight.

Vickie’s blue eyes flashed as she stood. We will for sure. I’m unloading our wagon today. At least it’s dry.

Good idea. John turned toward Father. We’ll stay in our wagon, so you won’t have to build as large a shelter.

Father set his empty coffee cup down. All right. If you want to. I hope the weather holds. He looked toward the west where a thick blanket of gray clouds covered the sky.

Cora turned the bacon one last time and reached for a plate. Of course Nicholas was sick. She’d told Vickie to warm his wash water. It’s a wonder they didn’t all catch their death.

Lenny crowded against her. I’m hungry.

It’ll be ready in a minute. Why don’t you go sit down? She pointed her fork toward a straight-backed chair several feet away then scooped up the cooked bacon.

It’s too cold over there. I like it by the fire better.

Why? So you can get in the way? She smacked his hand as he reached for the bacon she’d put on a plate.

Ow. He jerked away.

Wait until it’s time to eat. We aren’t heathens just because we’re living like it. She put more bacon in the pan, moving quickly to keep from getting splattered by hot grease. Lenny’s jaws moved as if he chewed. Did you take some bacon off the plate?

Uhn-uh.

You did, too. You’ve got grease by your mouth. Cora grabbed the plate. Mother, Lenny’s eating the bacon as fast as I can take it up.

Leonard Jackson, you wait until we’ve all been served. You know better than that. Mother lifted a large iron skillet of fried potatoes from the bed of coals she’d pulled to one side of the campfire. I think everything’s ready. Let’s eat.

~*~

Cora helped Eliza wash, dry, and put away the dishes. Everyone else unloaded the Jackson’s wagon. They placed everything in a huge pile with the two mattresses on top. Then Father and Ben took off the canvas cover and stretched it over the large pile of boxes and barrel, securing it down against the weather. The rocking chair, small dining table, and Mother’s cooking stove sat to one side. Finally, Father, Ben and John lifted the wagon box from the frame and set it upside down on the ground.

Cora paused with a dish in her hand. Father, why can’t we put the mattresses on that for tonight?

He grinned at her. I think you’re right. It’ll be our floor. When you finish what you’re doing, dig out the mattresses and set them up. We’ll build a shelter around it. We’ll be sleeping in style tonight.

He walked around the platform. We’ll need more room than that, though. See if you can pull or cut some of this grass. Enough to make room for the stove and chair.

Cora grabbed a handful of grass beside her and pulled. It was dry and brittle but sharp where it broke. Her hands would probably be a mess by evening. Was there no end to this work?

~*~

Cora grunted and shoved her end of the second mattress, letting it fall to the platform. If the position of the sun, now a bright spot in the clouds, was any indication, they’d been working half the morning already.

That’s good. Mother stepped back. Let’s get Vickie’s wagon unloaded now.

After helping lift several boxes and barrels out and stowing them under the wagon, Cora groaned at the sight of a large, heavy trunk. She stretched her back and looked at her mother.

Mother leaned against the wagon, breathing hard. Cora, take this corner. Eliza, you go there opposite Vickie. With each of us at a corner, I think we can lower it to the ground

She looked at Vickie. We may have to leave this one where it falls. We’ll be doing good to get it out as heavy as it is.

I don’t care what we do with it. Dark hair escaped Vickie’s bonnet, framing her pretty face. I just want Nicholas off the ground.

Mother nodded. Are you ready? All together now, let’s pull and lower.

Cora strained on her corner and the trunk began to move. There was little she could hold to—only some ornamental scrollwork and part of a leather strap. As the heavy trunk slid away from the wagon floor, Cora slipped her right hand to the bottom, getting a better grip. The trunk fell, pinning her fingers to the ground.

My hand. She cried out. It’s on my hand.

Oh, my lands, girls, lift. Mother called out.

Cora pulled her hand free as quickly as she could, and Mother hurried to her. Wiggle your fingers. Does that hurt?

Cora shook her head and scowled. Mother, my hand isn’t broken. She held it palm up. The imprint of the trunk was visible across the middle of her fingers. It’s just bent in a few places.

Mother rubbed her thumb across the indentation. All right, but maybe you’d better do something else. Why don’t you keep an eye on Nicholas and Lenny while we finish this? Maybe you could pull some more grass for the shelter. You’ll need only one hand for that.

Cora glanced at the two boys playing tag among the boxes that had already been set out. Her hand did hurt. She moved toward the improvised floor and began pulling grass with her right hand. When Lenny ran close, she caught him, holding him until Nicholas was firmly in her grasp, too.

You two will use this shelter as much as I will, so you’re going to help me.

Me help? Nicholas’s large brown eyes widened.

Yes. She hugged his soft, little body before letting him go. You and Lenny can work just like the big men. While they cut down trees, we’ll break down grass. Let’s see if we can finish before they get back.

She kept the boys working for several minutes before they ran off. She straightened and stretched her back. How much should she clear? Maybe twice the width of the sleeping platform? She went back to work. Eliza soon joined her. In spite of being a real nuisance, Eliza never seemed to mind working.

When they finished, Cora climbed on the platform and sat on one of the mattresses. From her perch, she could see the boys as they played. There had to be something more interesting to do in this awful place than watch two little boys play. She looked toward the woods in the distance as the crashing sound of a falling tree reached her ears. Ben was lucky. Cutting down trees would be better than this. Boys always got to do the fun jobs. And worthwhile—like building a shelter. Once the job ended, it didn’t have to be repeated. But washing dishes had to be done over and over. Babysitting, too, was never ending. There was no satisfaction in doing something that would have to be done again almost as soon as it was finished.

The early morning frost had almost dried by noon, and the men weren’t back from the woods yet. She climbed down and moved to the campfire. Mother had beans cooking. Cora lifted the lid to peek inside. Mother, where’s the meat?

Mother set a box down and arched her back. There is none.

Don’t we have any side meat left? I thought I’d put some in these beans for seasoning.

What you cooked this morning was all we had.

Vickie set a small box with the others and stretched. Maybe the men will shoot something while they’re in the woods.

Eliza laughed. Not with all the noise they’ve been making. Any animal with sense would be far from here by now. Why can’t we eat beans without seasoning? They’re just as good that way.

The wagon emerged from the cover of the trees in the distance, and mother sent an approving look toward her youngest daughter. That’s exactly what we’re going to do. Let’s give Cora a hand with the meal. If those men are as hungry as I am, they’ll want plenty.

No one seemed to notice the lack of seasoning as they dug into their meal until Ben looked up. Where’s the meat?

Mother shook her head. We’ve eaten it all.

Don’t we have any meat at all?

No.

What about tonight? What are we eating for supper?

Mother shrugged. We could have beans again.

Ben turned to Father. I could take the gun and scare up something for supper. If you don’t need me this afternoon, that is.

Father slanted a look toward John. We could get along by ourselves, couldn’t we?

John grinned at Ben. Sure, wouldn’t even miss the runt.

Ben frowned. Hey, watch what you say about me. Who cut down the most trees?

John laughed. Your father did.

All right, but he doesn’t count. Ben grinned at Father before turning back to John. I mean between the two of us.

John held his head up and crossed his arms. Hey, I finally got that one tree down.

Yeah, and it almost got you, too.

Vickie’s head jerked up. What do you mean by that?

Nothing. Father sent a frown to the other men. No damage done. John’s tree got caught in another tree when it fell. It twisted and came toward him, but he got out of the way in plenty of time.

It sounded exciting to Cora. Her morning had been dreadfully dull. She stood when Ben did. Ben, I’m going with you.

Cordella Jane Jackson. You’ll do no such thing. Mother’s brows drew together.

Why not?

Young ladies do not go traipsing off in the woods with a gun.

Why would you even want to? Eliza stared at Cora.

Cora almost answered the truth—she was bored beyond endurance—but she stopped in time. Mother said idle hands were the devil’s workshop. She’d be sure to find something horribly dull for her to do.

To spend time with Ben and see Father’s land. Maybe I can find some wild greens or nuts. She turned toward Father, knowing his weakness for nuts. Didn’t you say pecans grow around here?

His eyes twinkled as if he understood. Yes, there’s a chance you may find pecans on the ground now.

But a young lady—

I’ll take care of her, Mother. Ben stood back watching. A pecan pie or something baked with walnuts sounds good.

Father grinned and patted his stomach.

Mother sighed. I still don’t think a young lady should go on a hunting trip.

Please, Mother. This isn’t Boston. Surely you can see it’s different here. It isn’t even Saint Louis. If we’re going to survive in this wilderness, we’ll have to go out and look for food. It isn’t as if the neighbors will see me. Cora tried to keep the sarcasm from her voice. Please, let me go with Ben.

Again, Mother sighed. All right. I suppose you’re right. Stay close to Ben and be sure you’re home before dark. As cloudy as it is, you won’t be able to tell time so start back early.

Cora hugged Mother. Thank you, and don’t worry. We’ll be back before you know it. You won’t be sorry. I’ll go get something to carry the nuts.

Cora ran to find a basket while her heart lifted in song. A walk through the woods with Ben would be wonderful. She lifted her eyes to the line of trees at the edge of the woods. What exciting secrets did they hold? She smiled in anticipation.

Chapter Three

"You’ll have to be quiet if you want any meat for supper." Ben’s voice carried in the forest.

Cora nodded.

There might be some pecans over that way. Ben pointed. They like water. The creek is just beyond. We cut trees over there.

Cora turned the direction he pointed and saw stumps poking from the ground. Again she nodded and headed toward the creek. Ben’s voice followed her. Don’t get out of my sight. Make sure you can always see me.

She waved and continued through the thick bed of dried leaves until she was several yards from her brother. At the sharp report of his rifle, she turned quickly. Had he already shot something? Surely not. They’d have to go back to camp if he had, and she hadn’t seen anything interesting yet.

Ben stood several yards away. He turned toward her and shook his head. He must have missed. She laughed and clamped a hand over her mouth to stop the sound. Freedom from duty and work lifted the burden she’d carried since they’d started this horrible move. Eliza wouldn’t be calling her to do something for Mother. Not in the woods. An exciting afternoon of adventure lay ahead.

If only George were here with her. Most of their outings in the last year had been to the courthouse. Every trial or hearing open to the public found George there, an absorbed spectator. Just weeks before they left St. Louis, he’d become a junior clerk with Gosset and Smith, two of the best attorneys in Missouri, according to George.

A low branch brought Cora up short. She dodged it then looked for her brother. He stood beside a large tree some distance away. With a sigh of relief, she checked out her surroundings. Nothing but trees as far as she could see. If she didn’t move, the silence became a living thing, heavy and pressing against her ears. Then a bird chirped. Something scratched in the underbrush to her right. Sounds of the forest crept in with birds singing and rustling noises. How had she thought the forest was quiet?

A puff of air winding its way through the trees circled her before moving on. She shivered, tucking her bare hands into her coat pockets, letting the basket handle slide up her arm. She stomped her feet to warm her toes as she looked around. It hadn’t been so cold before. Satisfied there were no pecan trees in sight, she moved on.

Cora began zigzagging around trees with leaves and broken sticks crunching under her feet. So she wasn’t as quiet as she’d promised. But she was cold. She tugged her coat closer around her and kept moving. When it seemed she’d walked forever, with only an occasional shot from Ben’s gun, Cora spotted a small grove of pecan trees by the edge of the creek. She ran the last few steps and sank to the ground to fill her basket. She picked up every pecan within reach, scooted over, and started again. Father would be glad to see her full basket. Even if Ben didn’t get any meat, they would have pecans.

Pecans reached almost to the top of her basket when a twig snapped. Her heart jumped, and she turned.

It’s only me. Ben squatted beside her. Looks like you’re doing better than I am.

You didn’t get anything?

He shook his head. I shot at several, but nothing stood still long enough. I’m slow reloading. The animals watch me and disappear about the time I’m ready for them.

Cora giggled. Smart animals.

Ben nodded. He tossed some pecans into the basket. I think we ought to start back. It’s beginning to snow.

A large snowflake fell on her dark woolen skirt. It slowly melted, but was followed by others landing several inches apart. Cora looked up at her brother. I think you’re right. Mother will be worried. I hope you know the way.

He shrugged. I think we came in a fairly straight line. If we go back the same way, we should come out of the woods about where we came in.

Cora scrambled to her feet, brushing leaves from her skirt and coat. She clutched the full basket. You lead the way.

Each snowflake that fell seemed to be followed by two more until the air danced with the cold, white crystals. Cora tried to shield her face from their sting. She kept up with Ben as he trudged ahead of her, his gun slung over his shoulder. Fluffs of white gathered on tree limbs and the ground looked like a white-patched carpet.

Cora envisioned the log shelter the men were building. It wasn’t a real house, but it would at least block the wind. A fire in Mother’s stove would send out rays of warmth into each corner. If only she could feel its warmth now. Her hands ached from the cold, and her feet grew numb.

The wind that had been gentle grew in intensity, sending swirls of snow toward them. As they wound their way around trees and over fallen logs, Cora tried to keep her back to the wind, but it was no use. Either the wind changed directions or they did.

She stumbled as she lifted one foot after another. The wind lashed out in fury, slanting the cold, wet curtain of white almost horizontal. Only an occasional leaf stuck its point above the snow-covered ground.

Ben and Cora bent against the driving snow

Even while she thought of freezing to death, Cora realized her feet were not as cold now as faint warmth settled in them. She concentrated on her feet, letting drowsiness steal over her. The warm, soft mattress waiting at camp called to her.

In a haze, she saw Ben turn. His lips moved, but no words reached her ears. She yelled at him, telling him she couldn’t hear. She was sleepy. Why didn’t he stop?

She tried to take another step, but something tripped her, throwing her toward a wide, bark-covered wall. Her hand flew out in a futile attempt to break her fall. There was nothing there. As if a door opened in the huge tree, she fell inside.

In an instant, Ben shook her. Cora, get up. Your feet are out in the snow.

She fought against hands tugging her coat, pulling her into a sitting position. Why wouldn’t he let her sleep? Her eyes opened and she tucked her feet under her, but they were as chunks of ice against her upper legs taking her breath away. Quickly, she straightened. More awake now, she tried to see the dark interior of their shelter. It’s warm in here. And dry.

The rotting wood gives off heat. And we’re out of the wind and snow, too. Ben sat beside her. What about your feet? Are they all right?

I don’t know. I can’t feel them.

Take your shoes and stockings off.

Pain shot through her foot when he began rubbing it. What are you doing? She tried to jerk away, but he held fast, rubbing until the color returned. Now give me the other foot.

No.

Do you want frostbite? If we don’t get the blood back, you could lose your foot.

Cora stuck her other foot out. What about your feet?

Just a little cold. My boots are waterproof.

When he finished wrapping her feet in her woolen scarf, she tucked both under her long, heavy skirt. The warmth surrounding them felt wonderful. Now what do we do?

Ben shifted close beside her. I guess we wait the storm out.

Mother will worry.

I know. But it’s better she worry a few hours than the alternative.

A shiver moved down Cora’s spine. Maybe the danger wasn’t over yet. Maybe the storm would go on for days and they would freeze to death. Her stomach growled. If they didn’t die of starvation first.

Her pecans. She looked toward the open doorway of their small shelter. There covered with snow, were her precious pecans. Beside them lay the crumpled basket. She shifted to a kneeling position and reached through the opening. As her hand closed over the wet snow-covered basket handle, she felt Ben’s arm brush hers.

Let me. You’ll freeze your hands. He scooped up several pecans.

Cora moved to the side. I’m glad we didn’t lose them all. Father would’ve been so disappointed.

Yes, I guess so. Ben’s voice faltered.

A sob caught in Cora’s throat. You don’t think we’ll get back, do you? Ben, I’m scared. We’re going to die. Tears choked her voice as a new thought came to her. If she died, she’d never see George again.

Ben pulled her close, and her tears erupted in a torrent. As she thought of her own death, fear settled in her heart. The meteor shower had been a warning. What was this? She wasn’t ready to die. She was terrified. God, please spare my life. Mine and Ben’s. She wiped her eyes and took a shuddering breath. A sharp crack ricocheted through the small enclosure and she lifted her head from Ben’s shoulder.

Here. Supper’s ready. She felt a pecan pressed into her hand. It’s a little dark to see how to pick it out, but you’ll know if you bite into a shell.

The storm raged while they ate the pecans Ben broke by squeezing two together in his hand. Cora lost all sense of time as the light outside dimmed, and the drone of the wind whipped past the small opening in their tree.

Cora huddled with her brother in the confines of their shelter, sharing what little space and warmth they had. Ben leaned against the inside wall of the tree while Cora curled into a ball with her cheek against his coat. The wind calmed, and a wintry silence descended on the hollow sycamore tree.

~*~

Cora shifted position. Her body ached beyond belief. As the haze of sleep lifted, her memory returned. She and Ben had taken refuge in a tree. They hadn’t frozen to death during the night.

Good morning. A narrow ray of sunshine lit Ben’s smiling face. The storm’s over.

Cora sat up, popping stiff joints with each movement. Ben straightened, rolling his head from side to side. We’d better try to find our way home.

I need to put my shoes and stockings back on.

Ben nodded. While you’re doing that, I’ll step outside.

Cora reached for her shoes while Ben crawled through the small opening. A sharp twang and the crack of a brittle branch above his head sounded. He jerked back while small pieces of bark flew in all directions.

Someone shot at me! Disbelief edged his voice.

Cora’s heart jumped and raced. She stared at Ben. Who? Why?

It was Indians. George said they hunted here. Every atrocity she’d ever heard relating to Indians filled her memory.

I don’t think they know we’re here. I’m going out. Ben started forward again.

No! Cora grabbed his coat. They’ll kill you.

The words no sooner left her mouth than another shot rang out going through the tree several feet above her head. Dislodged rot fell. Cora ducked and covered her ears with her hands. Grit and grime showered down on them.

Well, this tree isn’t going to stop a bullet. I’m going out before he has time to reload. Ben scrambled through the opening, yelling. Stop! Don’t shoot!

Cora grabbed her stocking and pulled it on as quickly as her trembling fingers would allow. She heard Ben’s footsteps crunching through the snow away from the tree. He thought he’d find a hunter who didn’t know they were there, but what if it were an Indian or maybe an outlaw who did know? What if they took Ben captive?

Her cold fingers fumbled with her shoes. She peeked outside. Silence greeted her. On hands and knees now, Cora pressed her face close to the edge of the opening and peered out. Nothing but snow and trees. Ever so slowly, she stuck her head out farther. And stopped.

There, just inches from her own, was a pair of the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. A young man near her age grinned at her. Hi. You Ben’s sister? He said you was in the old, holler sycamore.

Warmth crept into Cora’s cheeks. She brushed disheveled hair from her eyes. What a sight she must be. She nodded. Yes. I’m Cora Jackson.

He offered his hand and she allowed him to help her stand. She’d never seen such blue eyes before.

I’m real sorry about shootin’ at ya A wide grin complemented his twinkling eyes, making him quite handsome. Honest, we didn’t know you was in the tree.

We? Cora tore her gaze from him. Were there others in this forsaken land?

Sure, me and my brother. He’s there with yourn. He pointed to the two young men deep in conversation. I’d druther tell you Aaron was the one shootin’ at ya, but I’ll have to ’fess up. He pointed at the tree. There was a squirrel sittin’ right there on that branch. Never did hit the rascal. I’m most of the time tolerable good at gettin’ squirrels, too.

He launched into a tale of a successful hunting experience, but Cora didn’t listen.

She interrupted as soon as he caught his breath. Where do you live? Are there more in your family? What about other families?

He laughed Ya want me to quit babbling’, do ya?

Her face flushed, and he laughed again. Don’t worry none. Ivy says I talk too much.

Who’s Ivy?

My baby sister. Worse spoiled brat you’ll ever meet. She was a puny baby. Got used to bein’ pampered. She takes after Aaron. They’re always puttin’ on airs. Only trouble is we got mighty slim pickin’s most the time at our place, so I cain’t see the need for pretendin’ otherwise.

Baby sister? How old is she?

Eighteen come February.

Only a year younger than Cora. Maybe she wasn’t as spoiled as he made her sound. A friend would be wonderful in this horrible place.

Then there’s Ma and Pa. Again, his grin flashed as he stuck out his hand. She took it, and he pumped furiously. I’m Ralph Walter Stark. He bowed slightly. I’m real proud to meet y’all, Miss Jackson.

Cora Jackson. We just got here from St. Louis. Something hard and round crunched under Cora’s shoe. One of her pecans. She bent and plucked it from the packed snow of her footprint.

Well, I’ll be. Ralph knelt beside her. I never knowed sycamores to grow pecans afore. He brushed snow aside, uncovering another.

I dropped them last night. Cora reached into the tree for her battered basket. Maybe I can find enough to take to my father.

Together they sifted through the snow, picking up pecans until the bottom of her basket was covered.

You must’ve had a rough night out here in the woods, Miss Cora. Ralph’s grin was infectious.

Cora smiled. I’m sure it could’ve been worse.

Ralph, you ready to go? The deep voice came from above them.

Sure ‘nuff, soon as we get Cora’s pecans picked up.

We better git goin’. Ben says he knows the way home now. I promised Pa we’d be back shortly. He needs help with the fence.

Ralph stood and dropped two more pecans into Cora’s basket. He grinned at her, but spoke to his brother. You’re the boss.

Cora straightened to see a taller, older version of Ralph. Yet there were differences. His face was more slender, his jaw firmer. He’d be better-looking than Ralph if he weren’t so stern and solemn. Not that she cared. There were others living nearby, and one was a girl near her age.

Following Aaron’s directions, Ben led Cora back to camp. She could see the two wagons and the new shelter as soon as they came out of the woods. A thin spiral of smoke rose from the shelter as a beckoning welcome.

With flying steps, Cora crossed the distance to her waiting family only to learn her father and John were out looking for her and Ben.

Mother hugged them both. Father went out last night when the first snowflakes fell, but the storm came so quickly he was forced back. She laid a hand on Ben’s arm. He said you’d find shelter. He trusted you to know what to do.

Ben chuckled. We found shelter, even if it was accidental.

They promised to check in by noon. A frown touched Mother’s forehead. I hate the thought of them out looking when there’s no need.

We must have missed them somehow. Ben looked toward the woods. I’ll go see if I can find them.

Oh, Ben, what if you get lost again?

Don’t worry, Mother. Our footprints are easy to follow in the snow.

While Ben replenished his supply of powder and lead shot before leaving, Cora looked with sinking heart at the large piece of oilcloth spread over the beds.

Sunlight came through the cracks of the walls, making a striped pattern on the room. Melting snow on top of each log ran down the inside walls to the ground. A drop of water landed with a splat on Cora’s head. She looked up, appalled to see snow melting through thick layers of cedar branches that served as a roof.

Mother, everything’s getting soaked. Cora turned anxious eyes toward her mother.

I know. Mother sighed. There’s nothing we can do about it. The beds are covered. Everything else will dry.

But—

One look from her mother stopped Cora’s complaint. Remember, Cora, a lady does the best she can with what she has. It does no good to whine about the things we don’t like.

Cora shut out the depressing sight before her as much as she could. Ralph’s so friendly. You’ll like him. He’s a little taller than Ben and has a really nice smile. She thought of Ralph’s slaughter of the English language and wondered what George would think about him.

Sounds like you’re the one who likes him. Eliza’s light brown eyes twinkled above her grin.

I do not. Cora blushed in spite of her efforts to remain nonchalant. Ralph was good-looking, and he seemed pleasant. Even when his older brother had been unfriendly, Ralph made light of it. Of course, she could never care for anyone but George.

Please, tell us about the rest of the family. Mother’s voice cut into Cora’s thoughts.

You said there were five of them. Vickie sat on the corner of one of the beds. I assume two of the five are his parents?

Cora nodded. Yes, and that’s all I know. Ralph’s older brother looks a lot like him. Ralph said they have a sister named Ivy. She’s almost eighteen. Ralph said she’s spoiled rotten, but I’m hoping she’ll become a good friend.

A faint smile touched her mother’s lips. It will be nice having neighbors. Do you know where they live?

Cora shook her head. No, but I think it’s on the other side of the woods. They turned that way when they—

Ben burst through the door. There won’t be any lack of meat around here. Come and see.

Chapter Four

Cora followed the others outside. John and her father stood by the wagon, where a large buck hung by its back legs.

Ben’s eyes shone. Father shot it right through the heart. We’ll have to let it hang overnight and cut it up tomorrow.

Large brown eyes, vacant of expression, stared at Cora. She stood, unable to move, while the details etched into her mind. Drops of pink foam oozed from the mouth past the deer’s lolling tongue before dropping to the white snow below. The men had already slit the deer down the front from the throat to the back legs. A stick, as a wedge, held the still warm cavity open while steam poured from the gaping hole where the innards had once been.

Cora’s stomach churned. How could Father kill such a beautiful animal? How could her family stand to look at it? She turned away. She loved the taste of venison, but she hadn’t known this was what it looked like before it was prepared for the table. She took deep breaths, fighting nausea with each step. So this was the way food would be brought to their table in this horrible place. Would she ever be able to eat meat again? She hated it here. She wanted to go home.

~*~

Late in the night, Cora awoke to a noise. A dark shadow by the