Love Comes to Beaver Creek: Beaver Creek Series, #1

By Jacqueline Kimball

Beaver Creek Series, Book One.

Summer 1851, Beaver Creek, Oregon. Lindy Sanders is in love with her childhood friend, Jack Matthews. But she, and she alone, was at the creek when his sister drowned. Does Jack blame her? When another person drowns, the community realizes that this is no coincidence.

Who killed Sissy Matthews, and why? Can Lindy and Jack find true love despite the tragic events, or will a love from the past change everything?

Ben Dorsey's wife died, leaving him with two babies under a year old. Ben vows never to love again, but he needs a wife, and quick. Mary Grace vows that she will marry a complete stranger, rather than live with her father and step mother any longer.

 And finally, Carlton has returned from California with enough money to take a wife. But the one he loves, loves another.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jacqueline Kimball
• Release date: Dec 4, 2016
• ISBN: 9781386456964

Jacqueline Kimball

Jacqueline Kimball was born in Wisner, Louisiana, and grew up in Ferriday, Louisiana. She received her degree in elementary education from Northeast Louisiana University (now named University of Louisiana at Monroe), graduating magna cum laude. Jacqueline (Jackie) is a member of ACFW (American Christian Fiction Writers), and is a retired elementary teacher. She loves history, and is particularly drawn to the mid-1800s. She enjoys writing historical fiction, and most of her books are historical. She also writes children's chapter books, including the book Houston the Cleft Palate Puppy, a book for the young and old, and also her personal favorite. Additionally, she has written for  Hub Pages, Infobarrel, MSNBC, and various religious publications. She is the mother of three grown children; Lisa, Kimberli, and Michael, and a proud nana to the best grandkids ever. She shares her home in northern Louisiana with her older daughter Lisa, and two spoiled little house dogs who don’t know that they are…ahem…canines.

Book preview

Acknowledgments

IN JULY OF 2016, I was diagnosed with a large cervical spine tumor, and had to have emergency surgery. I am first and foremost thankful to God, who walked with me through the storm. With my son over a 1000 miles away, and my daughter in ICU having just had heart surgery, I leaned heavily on my son-in-law, Chad Byrd, to help me make some hard decisions about my care. Afterwards I was, for a long time, partially paralyzed. During all of this, he was my rock, and treated me like his own mother. So I want to thank you, Chad, for being there then, and now.

To my family, and church family who stayed with me, prayed for me, cleaned my house, and brought food, thank you! Thank you to my Gadsden, AL neurologist team, Doctor Olga Bogdanova, Doctor James White 3rd, and his wonderful PA, Jim Lombardo. To HelpSouth Rehabilitation in Gadsden, AL and Alacare Home Health in Anniston, AL, you’re the best!

. Thank you, my friend and precertification scheduling sweetheart, Tara Brown Curry. Getting the news of a large, potentially paralyzing tumor, and being rushed into your office to schedule surgery all within ten minutes was unnerving. I needed that hug and your prayers!

Thank you to my chief editor and best mama anyone ever had, Dixie Kimball.  Thank you also to my assistant editor, Janice Bates. Beta readers who sent feedback: Janice Bates, Dixie Kimball, Sherrie Pearson Jones, Belinda Juneau Freeman, and Sue Lambert.

Characters, Grammar, Locations, and Events

GRAMMAR

My characters do not use perfect grammar. Some of them say words like ain’t, gonna, and use double negatives such as don’t have no horse. They might also use poor subject and verb agreement. Some of the children in the story use run-on sentences, just as they do in real life.

When I show my character’s thoughts, their grammar is also flawed.  I am convinced that though many early settlers in Oregon used excellent grammar, that there were just as many that did not. I chose to have a mixture of both types of speech.

Locations, Weather, and Tidbits

This is a fictional account, and since it is such, I took some liberties with weather and locations in and around the fictional community of Beaver Creek, Oregon. I also had to tweak ages of past characters from The Oregon Series just a bit for a smoother flow of the story.

This is a work of fiction, and all characters and many locations are entirely fictional.

CHAPTER ONE

BEAVER CREEK, OREGON, Summer, 1851

Ben Dorsey sat at his kitchen table, and held his newborn son close to his heart. I’m scared, Doc. I’m scared, and I’m all cried out. I don’t want to feel nothing. If I let myself feel much, I’m gonna sink.

Vance Talbert raised his bushy eyebrows. You’ll be alright. I know it doesn’t seem like life can go on without Caroline, but it will. And having your two babies will, in time, give you some purpose.

Ben stroked his son’s arm. It was no bigger than a cigar. He’d forgotten how tiny a newborn was, and this one had come early. His mama fought hard to stay with him, but slipped away without even getting to hold him.

The baby’s fingers curled around Ben’s larger calloused one. I reckon, but that don’t mean I want to. Lord only knows if it wasn’t for my babies, I wouldn’t want to be here anymore. Without my Caroline, life ain’t worth much.

Doc Vance nodded toward the newborn. You’ll always have a part of her. Just look at your beautiful boy. Already looks like Caroline.

Ben gazed with swollen eyes at his son. The babe was only a few hours old, but already the redness had faded from his face, and he was beautiful. He could see Caroline’s features, but the poor child was going to have his big ears. Somewhat. I hope he’ll be tall like me, and the spitting image of his mama. Got my big ears though.  Ben’s mouth curled. ‘Course she wanted him to look just like me. And she won’t ever know it now... Ben shook his head.

Doc Vance put a steady hand on the young father’s shoulder. "Now, listen to me, Ben. I was widowed myself. And I learned that people are right. You can go on. I know it’s hard to comprehend right now. You’re grieving, and you will for a long time."

Ben found comfort in the strong hand. Doc was dead tired from fighting for Caroline’s life, but he stayed. He cared. I reckon for a lifetime. There won’t be no forgettin’.

"Of course. You’ll never forget her. But you start today, to live for little John David over there, and this one. Doc Vance nodded toward the babe. Now, this one here...he’s Caroline’s last gift to you. And your gift back to her is to be the best father you can be to your boys."

I don’t know how to...to go on. Life don’t make sense now.

No, it shore doesn’t. But it will. You take one day...you hear me? One. One day at a time. You can do that, now can’t you?

Reckon I have to.

Doc nodded. That is all you have to do. I know your strength, Ben. You can do one day. And then another. And one day, you’ll realize that you made the day without as much struggle. You’ll laugh with your babies. And you’ll feel alive again. Even happy.

Ben’s jaw tightened. "Happy. Huh? I don’t deserve to be happy. Ever. I’ve got two babies under a year old without a mama now, thanks to my selfishness."

No see here, boy...

"No, Doc. You know it’s true. I killed my Caroline. How does a man live with that? Ben looked up with anguished eyes. You won’t say it, so I will."

Don’t. I would never...not now. Doc Vance’s eyes misted as he looked into Ben’s grief stricken eyes.

Ben shook his head and looked away. It was true. Doc had warned him Caroline was not a strong woman. It would be best if there were no more children, but at the very least, he had strongly advised that they should wait a few years.

"You warned me. But what did I do? I didn’t listen to you. Caroline seemed fine to me. She seemed strong...she had good color...She said she was fine. Ben shook his head. I’m the lowest of the low."

Doc’s usually gruff and booming voice was quiet and understanding. Don’t carry this all of your life. It will be like a poison.

"You told me not to...I should have believed you."

Now, now. If you live a life of blaming yourself for Caroline’s death, and feeling life is over, it will be the worst thing you could do for your children. You don’t have that luxury, Ben.

I know in my head you’re right. I’ve got to keep my head straight for my boys. But I feel so bad, Doc.  I...I need some time.

I understand. I felt the same when I lost my wife. It was the darkest days of my life, especially the first year. Thank God, He sent me Clara. And someday...

Don’t. Ben didn’t want to hear about another wife. How would he even exist without his Caroline? If it wasn’t for the children, he’d end it all now. I’ll never see my darlin’ again.

That’s a blow to your heart. And then to know you will be raising the children without your Caroline is certainly a hard, hard thing.

Ben nodded. Doc tried to understand. But it had been many years since he had lost his young wife, and they had no children. No amount of talking was going to help. They were both tired out, and talked out.

The lamp made shadows on Doc’s haggard face .The good man was exhausted. Doc needed to go, and Ben needed him to go. There’s plenty of moonlight. You go on home now, Doc. You need sleep. In a bed, not a chair.

I’ll stay if you want me to.

Ben shook his head, and kissed his newborn’s head. Naw. I’ll be alright.

Doc Vance nodded. If  you’re sure. Now, I’m going to go for a bit, but I’ll come back with Clara in the morning. I’ll stop by the Sander’s place and ask Sarah and Lindy to come over with her.

Ben nodded. I’m sure. Go on now.

You’re sure you don’t want me to send Jeff or Rowan over here right now?

Ben’s throat tightened. If doc didn’t hurry on and get out of here, he’d bust. No. We’ll be alright. I kind of want to be alone right now.

I understand. We’ll be here first thing in the morning.

CHAPTER TWO

CLARA? I’M HOME.

Doc Vance scuffed his shoes against the faded rug on the brand new porch, built just last week. He breathed deeply, enjoying the earthy smell of the wood shavings that had fallen through the cracks.

He entered the front room, and let out a weary sigh as he set his medical bag on the small table by the door. After the long night...he shook his head. It was a very difficult night, what with poor Caroline Dorsey fighting for her life after the birth of her son...watching her slip away, knowing there was nothing he could do. And the poor young father, now with two babies under a year old, and no wife. Sad. Very sad indeed.

He was dead on his feet. On the way home, he’d been met by Rowan Parker. His baby was puking something awful and had a fever. Doc followed Rowan, and managed to get the fever down, and the vomiting stopped. Hopefully it was a teething fever, but he’d check back later.

He was home now, and he wanted desperately to put the long hours of sadness behind him. He sniffed the air. The smell of yeasty bread and ham made his stomach growl.

He felt tension leaving his tight shoulders. Early morning light flooded the room, bathing it with a soft yellow haze. Clara was sure right about the windows. At first he objected about having such a large window. Flies were filthy creatures, and he was no friend of mosquitoes, either. But Clara persisted, and it was his joy to make his bride content, so he agreed.  Clara had asked him to make a wooden frame with hinges to fit the window when it was open. Next, she had cleverly and very attractively tacked the thinnest of cheesecloth across the frame. No more flies and mosquitoes, and it definitely made the place more welcoming and cheerful.

Clara? Where are you?

In the kitchen. I’m coming.  A rattle of plates was followed by the sound of a chair scraping the floor.

Vance smiled.  He loved the lilting tone of his wife’s voice. She was glad he was home. It felt good. Mighty good. My goodness, woman. Something smells wonderful.

He headed to the kitchen, his wife’s pride and joy. There wasn’t a woman anywhere that could cook as good as his Clara.  He had always liked to cook, and occasionally liked to take his turn in the kitchen, but his simple fare would never hold a candle to hers. Some of their happiest afternoons were spent cooking the evening meals together, and sharing events of their day, along with stolen kisses when the girls were out of site.

Vance, I was so worried. I’m so glad you’re home. I didn’t hear the buggy. Clara stepped closer and gazed into her husband’s tired eyes.

He loved the way her eyes lit up when he came near. Four years now since he’d met the sweet widow and her two young girls on the trail, and married her soon after. Why she’d wanted a red faced, wild haired, pudgy man like himself still baffled him. But she loved him fiercely and never gave him any doubt about it. Someday Ben would see that love can come more than once.

He pulled her close, and breathed in her scent. He exhaled with a contented sigh. She was his refuge. The sadness of the night faded. And I am glad to be home.

You look exhausted, my love. Did you get any sleep at all last night?

Just a brief nap early on in the evening.

You poor dear. Have you eaten anything since you left yesterday morning?

A little bread and cheese for supper. There wasn’t much time, or much food either.

Clara concerned eyes met his. 

Vance tried to smile. Clara knew. But she wanted him to say it. Regardless of how tired and hungry he was, when he went to deliver a baby, he would always return with a broad smile and a cheerful announcement of the baby’s birth.

The baby?

A boy, about five or six pounds. Born around midnight. He’ll be fine. He already has a fine set of lungs on him. Doc managed a grin, but he was not yet ready to pull away from his wife’s embrace. Come closer, love.

The two stood silently for a moment. Clara pulled away slightly to look into Vance’s eyes.  Mrs. Dorsey?

Vance shook his head, no longer trying to hide his sorrow. I did all I could. It’s a sad, sad thing.

Clara gasped.  Of course you did.  Vance...darling, I’m so sorry.

But it wasn’t enough. Two babies in a year’s span...Caroline just wasn’t strong enough. Vance’s voice broke. The babies...no mother...and Ben just a young thing himself...

Come and have some coffee. I just made it.

Vance eased his aching body into the chair, and put his head in his hands. Thank you Clara, but I think I’ll skip the coffee. I would rather eat a bite. If you have anything to eat that you could put on my plate in a hurry, it would sure help.

Clara smiled. No coffee then. I made bread, and I fried some ham. And there’s some buttermilk. Eggs?

Just the bread and ham will be fine. That’ll hit the spot, and if you could grab the syrup jar, I’d say it was a feast. Vance rubbed his temples and stared at the wall.

Aw, Vance. You always take death so hard. Even if it’s a stranger. It weighs so heavy on you. It’s your good heart.

She handed him a plate of meat and bread, and then walked to the bucket of cool water. She pulled out the jar of buttermilk from the water and wiped it dry. And of course it’s even harder when it’s a friend. There’s been too many deaths, and you’ve had to hold the hands of their family members too many times.

Vance nodded. Honor Kincaid drowned, then Sissy Matthews drowned...

Strange how that was, Clara murmured.

Strange indeed. And now poor Caroline is gone. You’re right. There’s been too many trips to the graveyard. Too many times to tell these good people how sorry I am.

I know, dear...I know. I wish there was something I could do...something I could say...

Just your presence. I can’t tell you how comforting that is. Vance smiled, taking a long sip of buttermilk from the jar.

Clara smoothed her apron and smiled. "I’ll get the syrup. Oh, I just feel awful for Ben. He’s going to have his hands full with two babies and no woman in the house. How old is he, Vance?"

Still wet behind the ears, I’ll tell you that much. Let me see....He married Caroline when he was, oh, I’d say about seventeen, and the first little one was born eleven or so months later. That would put him at around eighteen or nineteen then.

Clara handed Vance the syrup, and sat down. And then eleven months later ...

Vance took the syrup jar, and poured a generous amount on the slab of bread. Yes. The boy born last night, and the other one not yet a year old. I’m thinking young Ben is only nineteen, or at the most he might be twenty.

The poor dear. So young for such a huge responsibility. What will he do? He’ll have to work. Who will look after the children? He has no family here. Oh, the poor young man.

Vance rubbed his eyes and yawned.  He will have to figure that out in a day or two. His uncle John David and his Aunt Polly here in Beaver Creek were the only relatives he had in these parts.

At least John David left him the farm, if he decides to stay.

Vance took a deep gulp from the pint jar of buttermilk, and wiped his mouth. Ben will to have to work, and work hard. It’s good to know that the young man has a spread and a roof over his head for him and his babies. He mentioned his sister recently came out to California, but he doesn’t yet know how to reach her.

Will he go there?

From what he said this afternoon, I doubt it. Right now he just needs to hold his babies close, and let it all soak in. He is in shock, of course.

"The cook stove is still hot. I’ll fix some biscuits to take over there, and take the rest of the ham. Well. Likely he has some eggs and such. I can cook those over there. There will be plenty to do. Ah... the poor babies. It is alright if I go? Will you take me?"

Vance nodded, and gave his wife a weak smile. "I thought as much, my dear. I already told him we would be there. I also stopped