Life In Black & White

By Doreen Milstead

Love Heading To Pastor Mark – Mark, in his younger days, was a boxer, and after putting a strip of metal in his boxing glove, killed a man. He flees the crowd and since that time, has lived in fear. Finally, in New Mexico years later and after he’s established a small congregation, he gets lonely and asks a relative to find him a bride. Little does he know just who will show up, stepping off the train, and coming from his dark and troubled past.

Turning An Arrangement Into Love - An Englishwoman leaves England for what she assumes will be a loveless marriage as all that they had agreed to was to care for her rancher, look after his home, and respect each other – but it didn’t include love. She does make friends with a freed black man in town and a few other people but later, something happens that will change her relationship with the rancher forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Hart
• Release date: Nov 10, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370234172

Book preview

Life In Black & White

By

Doreen Milstead

© 2016 Susan Hart

Love Heading To Pastor Mark

Turning An Arrangement Into Love

Love Heading To Pastor Mark

Synopsis: Love Heading To Pastor Mark – Mark, in his younger days, was a boxer, and after putting a strip of metal in his boxing glove, killed a man. He flees the crowd and since that time, has lived in fear. Finally, in New Mexico years later and after he’s established a small congregation, he gets lonely and asks a relative to find him a bride. Little does he know just who will show up, stepping off the train, and coming from his dark and troubled past.

As Mark stared at the fistful of sweaty bills that Eli held in front of his face, he couldn’t help but wonder how life would’ve been different if he had followed one of the two paths that his parents had wanted for him.

His mother had wanted him to become a lawyer. His father had wanted him to become a businessman.

Instead, Mark was taping his hands, preparing for a boxing match to fuel a gambling addiction that sometimes threatened to swallow him whole. He wondered if his parents could see him from heaven, or wherever you went after you died. He wondered how disappointed they were in him.

Those bills were tempting, but Mark knew he could do better. He could go bigger. He could win much more.

You’re crazy if you don’t take this bet, Eli was saying, thrusting the money up into Mark’s face again.

I’ll do you one better, Mark said.

I doubt that. Despite Eli’s words, the balding man leaned closer to hear what Mark had to offer.

Mark smiled. Put your boy in the ring and —

No. Eli leaned back and crossed his arms, not letting Mark finish.

My property, Mark said. By the creek. That’s what I’m putting up, if you put your son in the ring against me.

The cold pull of adrenaline made Mark feel hyperaware of his surroundings, just like it did every time he made a bet. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling at the other man’s transparent greed.

And if you win? Eli asked.

The deed for your rice mill, Mark said.

Absolutely not, the other man said, turning to go.

The creek property and the one adjacent, that rolling hill that would develop so nicely, Mark said. It felt like there was ice water in his veins.

Eli turned and walked until he was right up in Mark’s face.

How can you be so ready to throw all of that away? he demanded. Your father earned the money for those properties with honest work.

Mark smiled coldly. Honest work? You were about to pay me to take a dive in this fight.

Eli shook his head, dumbfounded. Mark knew that he had set the hook in the man. Eli wouldn’t turn down a deal as sweet as what Mark was offering.

Fine, Eli said. My son in the ring. My rice mill against your two properties. I hope you’re prepared to lose what you’re offering.

Eli turned to go again but stopped at the door.

Your father wasted his time on you, the man said before leaving.

Mark saw red. How dare he? How dare Eli talk about his father? Whether it was true or not, Eli didn’t have a right to talk about his father. His father was a good man. His father was a better father than Eli, anyway. Eli was ready to put his son in the ring to try to snatch up a couple of choice properties.

Mark was going to make Eli pay.

He could hear the excited crowd just on the other side of the door. Reaching into his trunk, he quickly withdrew a long, thin piece of metal with the initials R.S. stamped on them. Robertson Steel. The pride of South Carolina.

The company his father had built from the ground up. The livelihood that Mark had inherited upon his parents’ deaths.

The fortune that he was squandering away, bit by bit.

Moving quickly, so as not to get caught, Mark slipped the piece of metal beneath the wrappings around his hand. He adjusted the strips of linen and scrutinized his knuckles. There. Nobody would be able to tell that he had the piece of metal concealed beneath the wrapping.

No one but Mark and eventually, Eli’s son.

They were both going to pay.

The dirt and grit of the boxing ring were things that Mark lived for. The smell of the packed dirt beneath his boots, the cheering of the crowd, and the fire from the torches that illuminated it all combined into an experience that he couldn’t get enough of.

He couldn’t help but smirk at Eli’s son, a young, blond boy of perhaps seventeen, shadow boxing on the other side of the ring.

Fight!

Mark landed the first punch, a gruesome collision against the kid’s nose with his metal-enhanced fist, the hard piece crunching the bone. It was practically over then, Mark’s nostrils flaring at the smell of blood, but Eli’s son had a strong dose of the same pride that would be his father’s downfall, as well.

No matter how many times Mark laid him out over the smooth dirt floor, the kid just kept coming. Sweat dripped down into Mark’s eyes, stinging him, making him lose sight of simply winning.

Simply winning would’ve been a good way to teach Eli a lesson, to rob him of his precious mill.

But, no -- Mark wanted more. Mark wanted Eli to pay for what he’d said about his father in blood, his son’s blood.

Mark glanced at the crowd, as Eli was slow to get up. The kid’s face would probably bear some of the scars of this fight for years to come. That was perfect. That was exactly what Mark wanted. He picked out Eli’s