A Drawing of Life

By Vanessa Carvo

Across Rough Seas To Her California Cowboy - A pregnant and widowed English woman travels across rough seas, trying to reach her promised mail order husband in California. She runs out of funds in St. Louis and it’s only through the kindness of strangers that she is saved. On the other hand, her cowboy has many trials of his own and it’s only through the kindness of strangers also, and one in particular, that there is a chance of them ever meeting up.

Renegade Cowboy - A woman from the slums seeks a way out of that life and answers a mail order bride ad from a cowboy in Colorado, and little did the cowboy know what he was getting in the feisty, independent, caring, and loving woman who arrived on the train.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 23, 2016
• ISBN: 9781365556463

Book preview

A Drawing of Life

A Drawing of Life

By

Vanessa Carvo

Copyright 2016 Quietly Blessed & Loved Press

Across Rough Seas To Her California Cowboy

Synopsis: Across Rough Seas To Her California Cowboy - A pregnant and widowed English woman travels across rough seas, trying to reach her promised mail order husband in California. She runs out of funds in St. Louis and it’s only through the kindness of strangers that she is saved. On the other hand, her cowboy has many trials of his own and it’s only through the kindness of strangers also, and one in particular, that there is a chance of them ever meeting up.

Leaning against a wet and cold gray wooden railing soaked by a stormy, dark, ocean, Sandy Hardcastle began to cry as a powerful wind tore at her long blond hair and pale blue dress. She wasn’t crying because the crippled merchant ship she was sailing from England to New York on was in danger of being swallowed up by gigantic, angry, waves tossing the ship around like a rag doll.

She wasn’t crying because she had left England to journey to California to become the wife of a rancher she didn’t know. She wasn’t crying because she felt seasick. She was crying because her unborn child that slept safely in her womb needed a father. Even though she was a widow, she felt grateful that her abusive husband had staggered into a river while drunk and drowned.

The last thing she wanted was for a drunken hand to raise her child. Yet, she wanted a father for her child; a decent, honest, Christian man.

Staring out at the stormy ocean that hissed and growled at her faint hopes, Sandy wondered if jumping overboard and committing suicide would solve all of her problems; she had little money and was basing her future off a few letters she had shared with the rancher she was sailing across the world to marry.

The rancher could be a mean drunk disguising his truth through fake words written with pen. Committing suicide, though, Sandy realized, was not an option. She was determined to provide her child with a future, no matter how difficult the battle. She was twenty-three years old, still young enough to retain enough strength to overcome any obstacle; or so she hoped.

Blimey, a sailor cried out in an angry British accent. Running to the railing he grabbed Sandy by the arm and began to pull her toward a wooden door leading down into the ship, what are you trying to do, you crazy dame?

Mustering all the strength she had, Sandy yanked away from the man. With tears pouring from her eyes she stared at him through the storm as rain and sea mist pelted her face. The man was tall and thin, wearing a black sailor’s suit that ran up to a scarecrow face tucked under a baldhead. Take your hands off of me. I’m not afraid!

You listen to me, the sailor snapped, this ship is in danger of being gobbled up, and I’m not going to let you be swept overboard and drown. Now get below!

Why, Sandy yelled standing her ground, so my body can be gawked at by men who have no respect for themselves, let alone me! I’m better off out here.

Rubbing his hands over his bald head, the sailor bit down hard on his lower lip. He knew the men he was sailing had thrown every word in the world at Sandy, hoping to seduce her with cheap whiskey breath and filthy teeth. I’ll talk the Captain about the men, he promised, pushing his temper down, we’re almost to the harbor…a day at the most, if this storm doesn’t kill us.

This storm is the least of my worried, Sandy explained backing up to the railing. Gently, she patted her stomach. I’m with child.

Oh Blimey, the sailor cried out, why didn’t you tell the Captain. If he had known, he wouldn’t have taken you on board.

We’re almost to New York, Sandy told the sailor, unafraid that the captain might turn the ship around and sail back to England, my child and I deserve a chance at life. I’m not going to turn my body over to prostitution because my drunken husband left me with just enough to get to America and buy a ticket to California.

Blimey, the sailor said again, not believing his ears. Studying the storm with experienced eyes, he pleaded with Sandy to go below ship. I don’t know your story, and I don’t want to. Your eyes tell me enough. Now please, get below.

Feeling a powerful wave crash into the bow of the ship and send a raging river of water down to her, Sandy grabbed the wooden railing and escaped the horror of having her body washed overboard. The sailor was thrown down and washed to over to the railing, but held on without being swept into the ocean. Are you all right? Sandy called out.

Blimey, the sailor complained climbing to his feet, the sea ain’t no place for a dame. You stay out in this storm if you want; I’m going below ship. When you get enough sense to come below, come to my quarters. I have some soup hidden. Looks like you could use it.

Everybody on this ship is cruel and without heart, why aren’t you, Sandy called over the raging winds.

I saw you reading the Bible. I read the Bible, too. I believe in God and Jesus Christ, the sailor called over his shoulder walking back to the door leading below ship, I ain’t perfect and my sins could fill the oceans, but I try and care the way Jesus cared when I can. On a ship like this, when the heart of each men are harder and colder than coal, it ain’t easy.

Sandy watched the sailor disappear below deck without saying another word. A strange and mysterious hope filled her heart. The sailor, she felt, represented the journey she was about to take. A journey filled with cruel hearts and dangerous storms—yet, a journey that held a hidden heart beating with a special, hidden love.

Returning her attention back to the storm, Sandy touched her belly. Okay, mum is going to get you some soup. I know you’re hungry. Let me pray first.

Mac Shorelong wadded up the letter in his tough hands. Raising his face up into a warm spring sun, he shook his head angrily. Why now, he asked biting down hard on his lower lip. Only a lazy breeze dancing across an open green field filled with hundreds of grazing cattle answered him.

Throwing the letter down onto the ground, Mac ran his hand through his sweaty brown hair that felt just as dirty as his handsome, but hard, face. Some women considered him handsome, but he just thought of himself as a normal ranch face that blended into the daily chores of ranch life.

He was just a man who wore the same old brown work short tucked into a pair of gray trousers. Heck, he wasn’t nothing special. His Pa, Steven Shorelong, owned the ranch. Mac was just another ranch hand it seemed. Why now?

Why now what? a