Hanna The Helper: Twin Creek's Rain Ranch Romance Series

By Katie Wyatt

When they arrive in town, trouble almost immediately arrives in the form of a mysterious stranger. As Hannah hopes and prays Luke will finally propose, she's caught up in an age-old mystery—one that could claim her life, and the life of all those she loves.

Hannah Marsh travels west to Twin Creeks, California, to meet up with the man of her dreams, Luke Anderson. There's only one hitch: Hannah's father, who is traveling with her, is very ill.

Will Hannah's father recover?

Who is the mysterious man in black and what does he want in this tiny town?

What treasures are hidden in the mission's library?

Read all books by bestseller and Kindle All-Star author Katie Wyatt!

Twin Creek's Rain Ranch Romance Series
Book 1 Hanna The Helper
Book 2 Mary Jo The Farmer Girl
Book 3 Charlotte The Cleaver
Book 4 Willow The Sister
Book 5 Juniper The Daring
Book 6 Emily The Mountain Lover
Book 7 Louise May The Beekeeper
Book 8 Elenore The Writer
Book 9 Lizzy The Linguist
Book 10 Dorothea The Spy
Book 11 Arabella The Bookworm
Book 12 Mildred The Merchants Daughter

Katie Wyatt's Clean and Wholesome novelette American Mail Order Bride Historical Western box set romance series is enjoyable for all ages.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Royce Cardiff Publishing House
• Release date: Aug 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393305354

Book preview

Chapter 1

Leaving Cambridge

Late April 1886

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May was always such a rainy month in Boston, Hannah Marsh mused as the train rattled on, leaving the city behind. Good thing they were leaving already, in the last week of April, since her dear father was so ill. Even now, in the warmth of the train compartment, he shook and shivered as the rain lashed down. She shifted in her seat and reached over to touch his forehead.

I’m not feverish, he said, holding up a thin arm to stop her.

I have to check, Father, Hannah said, brushing his protestations aside. You’re shivering.

Only because I’m old and it’s cold, he said testily.

With a warm hand she touched his cold forehead, smoothing the gray hair she found there. His eyes were the same warm hazel that she looked into every morning in the mirror. At the moment they held a certain amount of annoyance.

You are cold, Hannah said. Not for the first time she wished she knew something about medicine. Perhaps she should have spent less time reading history books and more time reading the Materia Medica.

Ah, and an old man is proven right, her father said with a wry smile. Wonders never cease.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. Honestly, what was she to do with him? There was another blanket on the rack above their heads. Hannah set aside the book she’d been reading and pulled it down, spreading it over him.

There, she said, gently kissing his forehead. Now hopefully I can read in peace.

It’s going to be a long trip, he said, snuggling down under the added warmth. You’ll have ample time to read.

That was what she was afraid of. Time was not a commodity they had an endless supply of. Of course, the railway boasted often that it was the fastest, safest, and by far the most comfortable way to cross the vastness of the country. She only hoped that the boasts were well founded.

Her father was Dr. Leyland Marsh, a great historian and teacher at the University of Cambridge, and this move was costing him a large amount of pride to relocate to the West Coast. But since Dr. Warrington, who had been his physician for more than twenty years, had insisted, he wasn’t kicking up too much fuss. The chest infection that had plagued him all winter seemed set to stay, sending the old man into fits of wracking coughs which ended in him gasping, making every inhalation rattle like a coffin lid. It scared Hannah something awful. But Dr. Warrington had assured her that her father would more than likely begin to recover the moment he was presented with a warmer climate and drier air.

It was then that Hannah had set a plan in motion.

I hope young Luke Anderson appreciates all you’ve had to give up for him, her father said, his voice suddenly loud in the still cabin.

Hannah frowned at him. He’s giving up a lot too, she said. We weren’t quite at this point in the relationship, I think. We were very happily writing to each other, getting to know each other better.

But you like him?

Of course I like him, she mused, a tiny grin playing on her lips. I like him a lot. I just think we’ve hurried him a little and so he’s having to be most gracious about having us come to stay.

Gracious? Nonsense! her father barked. He should be pleased to have his old professor dropping in for a spell.

And he is, Hannah said. All I was saying is that I’m not sure he’s ready for all this …

And then there’s you, of course, my dear … her father continued as though she hadn’t spoken at all. Don’t underestimate how happy a young man can be when his future wife arrives.

Yes, Hannah said, feeling her cheeks warm. She had never said they were getting married, her father simply assumed, but it was surely heading that way.

Although they were a perfect match and she and Luke had kept a very warm, friendly relationship going, he simply hadn’t popped the question. Yet. He also hadn’t seemed upset, at least not as far as Hannah could see from his letters when she told him what the doctor said. In fact, their move out west was his idea. And still she fretted. What if he was feeling pressured? She would hate that. Since his leaving Cambridge two, almost three years ago, she’d been dying to see Luke again, but she’d hate for it to be under the wrong circumstances.

I think Luke will be beside himself with joy when we arrive, her father said. His eyes were misty, as though he could see it already.

She sighed and fiddled with her book. Naturally, there was only one way to find out. When they arrived in the small town in the middle of nowhere in California that Luke now called home, it would be too late for cold feet or second thoughts.

The town itself was another thing entirely. Of course, Luke said it was magnificent, with unrivaled views and a deep beauty he couldn’t quite capture in words. Nestled in a wide, long valley in the Laguna Mountains, with majestic peaks scraping the sky around it, the town of Twin Creeks was a marvel. It was a tiny community, but as the nearest town to three different mines, it was a bit of a trading hub, which sounded wonderfully colorful. The town through Luke’s eyes was vibrant and alive with possibility. She only hoped her dear father would make it all that way.

If Hannah stopped worrying about her father’s condition and what things would be like with Luke once they were face-to-face, she might even admit to herself that she was excited to go there. Yes, the famous California sunshine would do not only Dr. Marsh good, but Miss Marsh as well. She was certain of it. And if Luke was right about his little town, well, so much the better.

Staring out of the window at the streaking rain, she sighed again and picked up her book. In time … the sunshine would come in time.

As the train rattled and clanked on across the country, the scenery changed. Cities gave way to towns and those in turn gave way to small villages and outlying settlements, and finally to great rolling farmlands that then petered out into wilderness. The sun came out in patches; in others it rained like the gates of heaven had opened and all the water there was ever to be found in the world fell out. Other times it snowed, or the wind blew in mighty gusts, but safely behind the glass of their windows, Hannah and her father felt little of it.

Through tunnels in giant mountains and across rivers, they traveled, only stopping at small, mostly unremarkable towns to refuel. During these hours when the train lay asleep, Hannah and the professor had at first taken to walking around the towns, but as her father’s health deteriorated despite her best efforts, Hannah put an end to that.

It seemed the cough was aware of their plan to exile it and had gripped his lungs worse than ever. She fed him a sticky, sweet-smelling, foul-tasting concoction of Dr. Warrington’s twice a day as instructed, but it seemed to do nothing at all. Her father coughed and coughed until he was almost faint and his ribs and stomach, back and chest all ached from the effort.

At a stop in some desert town overrun with cacti, Hannah desperately searched for an apothecary. After asking five different people she eventually found her way to a smelly back-alley shop with a faded sign and dusty windows and weather-worn walls. It stank, the shelves were caked in dust, and the old man behind the counter looked like a walking mummy, only without the ceremonial wrappings.

He had no hat, displaying a head mostly bald except for little wisps of hair that floated around his head as though in a constant whispering breeze. With his dusty brown clothes and yellowish, papery skin, he seemed the least likely candidate to be an apothecary Hannah had ever seen.

Can I help you? the man breathed, like a gust of air in a tomb.

My father is ill, she said. Her voice was small and oddly tremulous.

And … the gust came again, the dust shifting lightly.

A … and … I need medicine for him, she said. Her palms were suddenly terribly sweaty, and Hannah didn’t quite know why. This was just a very, very old man. Anything else her imagination might offer up was utter nonsense.

He moved with glacial slowness and presented her with two bottles. One is a tincture your father is to take one medicine measure of in a glass of water, twice daily. The other is a cream you are to rub on his chest, the man intoned.

Hannah nodded, scooped up the bottles, and handed him the money he asked for. It took all her self-control not to run out of the shop and back to the train.

Only when she was well away and moving at a steady pace did she realize she had never told him what was wrong with her father.

Against all odds, for the next week or so her father seemed to improve. All too soon, however, the medicine ran out and the little hope Hannah had felt blooming in her chest withered and died.

All she had left was camphor she could rub on his skin to ease the suffering and for a time that seemed to make a difference too, but nothing worked for long. Hannah was on the verge of collapse with worry and lack of sleep, when God in all His wisdom sent Hannah an angel.

Her name was Mrs. Marsden. She was a widow about her father’s age and seeing Hannah looking drawn and exhausted in the dining car one night, she asked if there was anything she could do to help.

It’s my father, she said. He’s terribly ill and nothing seems to be working.

Mrs. Marsden smiled gently. Let’s go and take a look.

From then on, Mrs. Marsden took turns with Hannah caring for Dr. Marsh, whom she called a rascally old devil. She always winked after saying it and chuckled in good humor.

Dr. Marsh seemed to take to Mrs. Marsden instantly, which was unusual, but understandable.

Mrs. Marsden was a plump woman with bright eyes, a warm smile, and a gentle nature. As a fellow pilgrim heading for California, she was set to be with them all the way to San Bernardino.

I’m visiting my Daniel, she told Hannah during one of the quiet times when Dr. Marsh was sleeping. He’s such a good boy and doing so well for himself at the San Diego harbor.

She was terribly proud of him. It made Hannah smile.

Luckily, Mrs. Marsden, courtesy of her son Daniel and his weak chest, knew a little something about such complaints and had a bottle of Friar’s Balsam, which was a mixture of herbs. When drops were poured into a basin of hot water it made an excellent steam to open the airways.

Dr. Marsh had been bent over a bowl of it with a towel over his head three times a day since she’d taken over his ministrations. So far, there was an improvement, although it was slight. He was eating a little better and resting more comfortably after the steaming, helping him to gain some strength.

There you go, Dr. Marsh, Mrs. Marsden said warmly one evening as the train rattled on. She plumped up his pillows. You should feel much better soon. We’re in California now. So, any day you’ll reach your stop.

Hannah hadn’t realized how close they were. Hope and fear mixed in her chest, tightening her own muscles, making her short of breath.

Mrs. Marsden smiled at her dozing father, his head lolling to one side as he drifted off, seated upright in bed. It was the only way he got any sleep at all