Treasured Memories

By Teresa Keefer

He's a young drifter looking for work.

She's a lonely widow seeking respite from the storm.

Will they find what they need in each others arms?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Teresa Keefer
• Release date: Apr 5, 2019
• ISBN: 9781540118042

Teresa Keefer

Teresa Keefer is an indie romance author with an avid love of books since the tender age of 4. She started writing poetry in high school and after encouragement from her best friend, wrote her first full length romance novel in 2007. Coming Home was finally released as a self-published book in 2011 and was intended as a stand-alone until several readers contacted her to ask for more on the secondary characters which was the beginning of the Possum Creek series. In addition to writing under her own name, she also writes erotica under Autumn Drake and will be releasing her first political thriller in 2018 under the name of Ann Nevada. Teresa holds an MBA in Human Resources and attended law school for two years and has been in the human resource profession for over 25 years. She has also served on several boards of directors for human resource professionals and has taught human resource classes at the college level as an adjunct instructor.  Her ultimate goal is to become a full-time author and have the time and resources to contribute to various community functions to raise awareness about domestic violence, human trafficking, and substance abuse/addiction issues. In addition to reading romantic fiction, she enjoys reading a variety of other material including horror, thrillers, mysteries, and non-fiction.  As a woman with many interests, she balances out her life by doing crafts, gardening, cooking and studying spiritualism.  A lifelong resident of Indiana, she presently lives in a rural area with a menagerie of animals close to her three adult daughters and seven grandchildren.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Ihad been riding through the vast, flat plains for what seemed like a lifetime. My clothing was stiff and dusty from days of sweating in my saddle then bunking under the occasional tree or deserted barn at night. My provisions were getting sparse and I was getting tired. Maybe I should stop running and find a place to temporarily settle down for a piece. I said this to myself every day, but today as the sun grew strong in the bright blue skies, I meant it. Time to get a job as a handyman or a barkeep, or a stable hand somewhere. Guess the next town that I came to was as good as any.

My decision to leave home was a rash one, I’ll have to admit. But I had grown tired of the constant bickering between me and my brothers and my father as to which side was right in this blasted war between the states. This war had torn families apart and created rifts between brothers, and for what purpose I just could not fathom. Our farm in Kentucky was right in the middle of both sides and the same was true for the middle of our parlor. My older brother, Garth, sided with my father that we were officially part of the south; therefore, we needed to go fight with the Confederate troops if we were called upon. My younger brother, Paul, was with my mother who hailed from the great northern state of New York and felt our place was on the side of the Union soldiers who wanted to abolish slavery. Me, I didn’t much care to fight for either side because I thought that enough blood had been shed already and sure as hell didn’t want it to be mine.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some damned coward or yellow belly chicken shit that my daddy and Garth made me out to be. I’d defend our home and my mama and baby sister any day that I needed to. And you can damn sure bet that if someone picked a fight with me, I was gonna finish it. Whether it be by fist, knife or gun. I just don’t see any point in a country being divided and fighting amongst themselves in a war where nobody was going to be a winner. So, about two months ago after the last blow up at our little farm I packed up some provisions from the root cellar and the smoke house, grabbed the clothes I would need, tossed a couple of my school books in my saddle bags and rode out in the middle of the night.

I had avoided the fighting by riding north and then back south, so I reckoned I was somewhere in Kansas by now. Not sure why I set my sights there. Maybe it’s because my school teacher hailed from there and talked about going back now that it was an official state of our great country. And it sounded exciting for a young man like me with cow towns popping up all over the place. A fellow I ran into on the trail a couple of days back said that if I kept riding, I would hit a place called Abilene that was on