Mr. Pierce's Hero: Texas Brides of Pike's Run, #12

By Kara O'Neal

Pike's Run, Texas, 1882

Corinne Taylor has a secret. And it must be protected. If her mother discovers what Corinne has been hiding, Hell will not describe the place in which she will find herself. Beulah, Corinne's mother, has proclaimed herself "queen" of Pike's Run, and no one crosses her, especially not her daughter.

 

And while Corinne does what she can to guard her secret, her best efforts aren't enough. War comes to Pike's Run and the Taylor household when Beulah learns of her daughter's betrayal. The battle that ensues forces Corinne to seek help from a new arrival.

 

Jonathan Pierce, a successful lawyer, has come to Pike's Run looking to find solace from his past. When Corinne asks for his support, her innocence and bravery call to the needs within his broken spirit, and he can't turn her down. She is capturing his heart, but if she ever learns of his cowardice, she will reject him, killing any hope he has left of finding love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kara O'Neal
• Release date: May 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201490379

Kara O'Neal

Award-winning author, Kara O'Neal is a teacher and lives in Texas with her husband and three children. She writes stories with strong family ties, lots of romance and guaranteed happy endings! Visit her at www.karaoneal.com.

Book preview

Pike’s Run, Texas, 1882

Corinne Taylor has a secret. And it must be protected. If her mother discovers what Corinne has been hiding, Hell will not describe the place in which she will find herself. Beulah, Corinne’s mother, has proclaimed herself queen of Pike’s Run, and no one crosses her, especially not her daughter.

And while Corinne does what she can to guard her secret, her best efforts aren’t enough. War comes to Pike’s Run and the Taylor household when Beulah learns of her daughter’s betrayal. The battle that ensues forces Corinne to seek help from a new arrival.

Jonathan Pierce, a successful lawyer, has come to Pike’s Run looking to find solace from his past. When Corinne asks for his support, her innocence and bravery call to the needs within his broken spirit, and he can’t turn her down. She is capturing his heart, but if she ever learns of his cowardice, she will reject him, killing any hope he has left of finding love.

Dedication

This one’s for Becky, my brave and steady and smart sister-friend.

Chapter One

Pike’s Run, Texas

June, 1882

Corinne Taylor closed her eyes. The sun’s rays beat down on her back, the heat sweltering and causing sweat to trickle down her sides beneath her rib-squeezing corset. She held still, praying the temperature would be too much for her, and she wouldn’t have to climb the dais.

Faint. Now.

She gritted her teeth and willed her body to follow her silent command. But no. No dizziness. No unsteady feet. No rush of blood to her ears. She opened her eyes.

People darted around her as she stood on the corner of the new, brick walk surrounding Pike’s Run’s first library. Orders flew from the mouths of generals in muslin or cotton skirts. Those petticoat leaders commanded the Ladies Auxiliary and the Women’s Guild of First United Methodist. And the one who corralled them all was Beulah Taylor, Corinne’s mother.

Richard Morrison, her mother snapped. Have you not heard a word I’ve said?

The bark made Corinne’s spine go rigid, even though the woman’s attention was not on her. Corinne’s throat swelled, her head spun. Please, dear God, take me from this. She let out a slow breath as sympathy for the mayor clutched her breast.

Of course, I have, Beulah, came his calm, soothing answer. My wife needed help settling the children in their seats.

Corinne glanced toward the dais set in front of the double doors of the library, steeling herself for the possibility of eye contact with her mother. Amidst the hustle and bustle of preparing the dedication ceremony, Beulah Taylor stood with her hands on her hips, ready for a battle with Mayor Morrison. But it was an argument that would never come. The man wouldn’t bite, even though Beulah tried every tactic in her arsenal to get him to break.

He’d been mayor for almost a year. He’d defeated Corinne’s father in the election, and the past eleven months had been hell for the Taylor household. For the town, as well. Beulah Taylor hadn’t taken kindly to losing and had done all she could to make the town pay for its betrayal. And she refused to call the mayor by his title, and emphasized his first name whenever she spoke to him or about him.

I wanted to hear your speech, but, Beulah gestured toward the three rows of ladder back chairs placed in front of the dais, people have arrived. The glower on her face told Corinne that Beulah would do everything in her power to make the mayor regret not giving her the opportunity to review what he’d written.

The man reached out and patted Beulah’s shoulder. Don’t worry. My wife approved it.

Corinne watched his profile curve into a kind smile. How he mustered patience for her mother, Corinne would never know.

With a huff, Beulah stormed off, the birds on her hat twitching and the ruffles on her dress trembling in the righteous indignation Corinne knew her mother harbored.

When the mayor turned, he locked gazes with Corinne and gave her an encouraging nod. He was such a nice man. She was so glad he’d won the mayoral race, as was her father. Rupert Taylor hadn’t wanted to hold the office, but he’d accepted the nomination in order to avoid the wrath of his wife.

Someday, and Corinne prayed it would be soon, something would put a stop to her mother’s quests and tirades and protests. Not that she wanted any harm to come to her mother, but...

Corinne rubbed her forehead, exhausted. Something had to give. Something had to change. Something had to make her mother see reason. Or...maybe someone.

Corinne, Beulah snapped. Take your place.

Corinne met the gaze of her mother across the rows of chairs. The people already seated heard the tone and the command. Embarrassment flooded Corinne, but she’d grown used to the emotion and turned on a heel without argument. As she shouted rebuttals in her mind, she took the three steps leading to the platform and found a chair as far away from the podium as possible. Her father had done the same.

Mayor Morrison spoke quietly with him, but she went ahead and sat near the twosome. She didn’t fear being thought intrusive. Rupert gave her a kind smile beneath his handlebar mustache, and, as always, his gentle nature soothed her.

The well should be finished by the end of the summer. Mayor Morrison flicked open his pocket watch to check the time. Once we’d decided where it should be located, the details fell into place.

Rupert nodded his head. I’m glad y’all managed to get the project started. People have been calling for it for two years. He folded his hands over his round stomach.

Mayor Morrison snapped his timepiece closed then glanced at Corinne. Good morning, young lady.

While she was younger than him, she wasn’t a youth anymore. She was twenty-four, with nothing to her credit but a secret she couldn’t share. Her hidden talent was all she had, for there wasn’t a different future for her. No husband. No children. That life would never be hers.

She’d prayed for her own family, waited patiently for it, but it hadn’t come, and she’d lost faith. Good morning. Are you ready?

The mayor searched his surroundings, taking in the people gathered, the gold-colored bunting that hung from the podium, the United States flag that waved in the gentle breeze, and finally the building behind them. As soon as Alice mentioned this project to me, I’ve been prepared. She had a stellar idea.

A library for the town had been an absolute dream, and Alice and her family had made it happen. Of course, the leader of the Women’s Guild and Ladies Auxiliary, Corinne’s mother, had inserted herself into the project. She’d tried to take it over, but Alice had stood firm and had kept herself at the helm. Corinne wished she had half of the woman’s bravery.

We’ve been looking forward to this day, Rupert stated. He nodded at the children who darted and dashed around the rows of seats as people waited for the short ceremony to start. Even the Fuller boys have expressed their excitement.

Mayor Morrison and her father shared a chuckle over the comment.

Well, the mayor drawled, it’s about that time.

While he acknowledged her father’s parting remark of encouragement, Corinne glanced out into the crowd. Alice and her family, along with all the other ladies who’d helped with the library, sat in the first row. Corinne gave Alice a smile, then grinned when the woman winked at her.

Corinne, her mother whispered fiercely as she walked across the dais, sit correctly.

Holding in a sigh because she knew better than to show emotions to her mother’s commands, Corinne pulled her back away from the chair and crossed her legs at the ankles.

Beulah huffed and sat down beside her. Mayor Morrison had stepped up to the podium, and his appearance had caused everyone to rush to seats or stand behind the rows, ready to hear what he had to say.

The town council sat to the right of the mayor, while Corinne and her family were on the left. Thankfully, because of the heat, anyone glancing at Corinne’s red face would believe the temperature had gotten to her. But those who knew her understood her blush meant embarrassment and discomfort.

As Mayor Morrison addressed the community, Corinne watched the crowd. Her best friends, Jane Dawson and Sherry Calhoun, sat in the middle with their children in their laps or cuddled in their arms. Jane and Sherry were so very dear to Corinne, the rocks to which she held fast in the sandy soil shifting beneath her feet, waiting to suck her under without warning.

Corinne couldn’t concentrate on the speech, especially since she’d had nothing to do with the project. Alice should be seated where Corinne was. As should all the other women who’d helped her.

But no, Beulah Taylor couldn’t have Alice Lonnigan placed higher than herself. And the town council had acquiesced to Beulah’s demands that the Taylor family be treated as the central family of Pike’s Run and should therefore be front and center during the dedication.

The urge to run gripped Corinne. She hated what her mother did to others, knew people thought poorly of her and her father because they did nothing to corral Beulah. If they only knew...

Corinne took measured breaths and allowed what usually brought peace to filter through her. It wouldn’t be too much longer, then she could leave and have a few hours of freedom.

As she took in those standing behind the rows of chairs, mostly men, she made eye contact with a stranger. He was tall. Lean. He wore an expensive, three-piece suit with a bright, starched collar. He had his hands in his pants pockets, and he didn’t appear as if the heat bothered him.

He watched her. Corinne could feel his gaze on her as keenly as if he’d reached out and touched her. Her throat went dry. Who was this man?

His clean-shaven face showed off a sharp jawline and a strong nose. He stood too far away to determine the color of his eyes, but she thought they might be brown. His closely cropped hair was mostly hidden beneath his bowler hat. She gripped her fingers tightly, doing her best not to fidget because if she did, her mother might swat her.

And the last thing she wanted was this...handsome stranger to witness the scolding. Why she had his attention, she didn’t know, but it would be short-lived, she was certain. Unaccustomed to playing staring games with a man, she forced her focus to the mayor.

And we thank Alice and the Lonnigan and Davis families for their tireless efforts to give this to our town. We have the utmost gratitude for Brady Callahan and his family for taking on the cost of the building. Without these people leading the way, we wouldn’t have this glorious structure dedicated to our enjoyment and learning.

Her mother drew in a sharp breath as people clapped.

Corinne didn’t dare show her agreement with the mayor’s words. To do so would incite a riot when she returned home.

And now, gentlemen, the mayor said as he turned to face the building, if you could pull down the cover.

J.T. and Lonnie Davis tugged on the ropes that kept the cloth over the sign. The fabric fluttered down and revealed the title of Pike’s Run Lending Library with an inscription underneath that read Contributions by the Taylor Family.

More applause resounded, but Corinne didn’t join in. Shame for what the engraving said kept her focus averted. She didn’t have to see the words, because her mother had worked on the caption for a month with the mason. And the statement was a bold lie. A laughable offense.

Beulah hadn’t contributed anything but her reprimands and naysaying. She’d attended all the meetings, but only in order to undermine Alice’s plans. Beulah Taylor hated Alice Lonnigan, and while a library was an idea Beulah would ordinarily support, she had tried to sabotage it because Alice was in charge. And she’d forbidden Rupert to donate any money, especially after Alice and her group had recruited Brady Callahan, the saloon owner, to pay for the building.

Oh, but Beulah wouldn’t dare let history not drip with the Taylor influence; thus, the family name was etched forever on the structure. Disgust rolled in Corinne’s stomach. Something had to change. Someday life would be different. It just had to be.

Let’s all go inside and fill out the forms to receive our cards, shall we? Mayor Morrison suggested.

A cheer went up, and Corinne twisted around. The cowboys whisked open the double doors to reveal Mr. Madison, the librarian, waiting at the entrance with a smile on his bearded face.

The crowd filed in, talking, laughing, clapping each other on shoulders and shaking hands with the women who’d brought them this privilege. Corinne stayed where she was.

Her mother stood. I’ll just speak to Richard before receiving my card.

Corinne made no comment, and neither did her father. Once out of the watchful eye of her mother, Corinne slumped.

Gonna go inside? her father asked gently.

She didn’t immediately answer. Even though Sherry and Jane had stayed to register for cards, Corinne couldn’t bear another second. Her clothes confined her, and her mother stifled her. The older Corinne got, the harder time she had enduring events with Beulah. But, as always, guilt forced her to comply.

Beulah was her mother. Her mother. Corinne should honor her, should want to be around her and support her in her endeavors. But all she wanted was to escape Beulah, to free herself from the prison disguised as a Victorian palace and ruffled monstrosities of dresses. She looked at her father and tried to summon the will to stay.

A sympathetic and devoted look gleamed in his soft blue eyes. Go, he ordered her.

And she knew what he meant. She squeezed his arm then dashed off. Holding her skirt and petticoats over her ankles, she hurried down the walk and toward Main. Once she reached the road, she slowed to a stroll, doing her best to keep attention away from her. While many people had attended the dedication, others had stayed inside their shops. She nodded at some of the owners but did her best to look as if she had nowhere to be.

When she reached the road leading west out of town, she hurried down the dirt path with its deep wagon ruts. Oak and pine trees grew on either side of her, their leaves rustling in the cool breeze. After crossing the bridge that spanned Pike’s Run, the winding creek that gave the town its name, she glanced ahead toward that clump of forest that always appeared as if nothing hid beneath the branches.

She didn’t need to hunt for it. She could find it in her sleep. She’d walked this path for twelve years. The trek was just as much a labor of love as the many hours of weed-pulling, watering and pruning. She didn’t mind the exhausting duties, as they were an escape from her life. And only a select few knew about her private sanctuary.

She ducked under the low-hanging branches of an oak then found the footpath, hidden by ivy and fern. After one hundred yards, she came upon a familiar row of hedges. They rose eight feet, shielding her secret. A wrought iron gate gave entrance, and she flipped the latch.

The hinges didn’t squeak as she went through the opening. She kept them well oiled. Once amidst her passion, she closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. The scent of roses wafted toward her, and she smiled, letting the tension ease from her shoulders.

When she gazed at her surroundings, she greeted her friends. Primrose and Bourbon, Ayrshire and Boursalt, Centifolia and Damask. Roses. All kinds. Ones that climbed. Ones that squatted low. Apricot and yellow, red and pink, purple and white, they all smiled at her, beckoned her to come closer.

But before she could, she had to change. She went to the shed in the back left corner of the rectangular garden to retrieve her work clothes. She had a small dressing area in the structure, and she carefully removed her teal frock and hung it up. She removed her corset and crinoline, as well, then donned a simple cotton outfit and apron. After sliding on her work gloves, she grabbed the handle of her cart loaded with pruning shears, pitcher, pots and other gardening necessities.

Stone paths weaved around several beds of roses in full bloom. As she went down one that led to the brook cutting through the area along the northeast corner, the scent of her hard work surrounded her. Calm centered in her soul.

This was her space. All hers. Her mother wouldn’t intrude here. Ever. For she knew nothing about it. And as long as the sun burned brightly in the sky, Corinne would make sure Beulah never discovered her haven.

JONATHAN PIERCE REMOVED his suit coat, hung it in the wardrobe then rolled up his shirt sleeves. The Weekly Times lay spread on the bed, and he read the feature as he folded over his cuffs. The last time he’d visited Pike’s Run, the town hadn’t had its own paper. In fact, the area had changed a lot in seven years. He hadn’t expected that.

The place had a courthouse, had elected its first mayor, and just today had opened a lending library. Pike’s Run had managed to become civilized amidst the wildness Texas still held. He continued to peruse the article as he withdrew his watch from his vest pocket and set it on the side table.

Once he was a little more comfortable, he folded the paper so that the article could still be scanned and left the room with it. He walked downstairs, his steps muffled by the carpet runner. The subject he perused intrigued him. A rally for women’s rights had been held in Houston, headed by Frederica Fairhope. She’d been assisted by Constance Dawson, who, if Jonathan remembered correctly, was the wife of the newspaper editor.

He checked the name of the author of the piece and saw that Mrs. Dawson had penned the words herself. Impressed, he kept reading, pausing in the hallway that led to the study. Sounds came from the kitchen, but they didn’t distract him. Once he’d finished the article, he tucked the paper under his arm and continued on to the room where his host waited.

Owen Prescott hailed him over. I’ve got your drink ready. A light of contentment shone from his blue eyes, the wrinkles at the corners giving him an air of wisdom. His silver hair framed a lean face that had once struck fear into the hearts of many Sacramento businessmen.

A glass of brandy sat on the side table. It’s not even noon, Jonathan commented as he walked over to the leather chair near his waiting refreshment.

And? Owen downed a shot of whiskey then poured another. We’ve much to celebrate. We haven’t seen each other in seven years.

Jonathan sat and put one foot on top of his opposite knee. He placed the paper in his lap then picked up his glass. It’s been too long.

Tell me about Sacramento, about everyone there, Owen urged. You’re the only person I write to who lives out there, and you don’t usually mention society and how it’s changed.

Memories assailed Jonathan, coming at him from all angles. Mighty glad he had liquor in hand, Jonathan took a swallow. It’s growing at a rate that’s unstoppable. You wouldn’t recognize anything.

In your last letter, you informed me Prescott Orchards had been bought by a vintner. How’s that going?

Jonathan shrugged. Not really sure. I don’t have any connections to the fellow who bought all your holdings.

Owen had been a giant in Sacramento at one time. He’d owned a shipping company, one thousand acres of cotton, as many acres of apple orchards, and five gold mines. Jonathan had been his lawyer, helping him with all legal aspects of his businesses and personal life.

But then Owen had reconnected with his daughter, Emma, and he’d sold it all to move to Pike’s Run. It had taken a few years to get everything taken care of, but eventually Sacramento society and commerce had removed the Prescott name from its parties and businesses. Jonathan had stayed in the city, setting up his own law practice, working for some of the wealthiest people. After he’d successfully served Owen Prescott, the rich had sought Jonathan’s expertise.

Until, that is, the events of eight months ago. Fury erupted inside him as usual whenever he recalled the reasons for his departure from California. With a careful, indrawn breath, he quieted the rage inside him and took another sip of his drink.

I know your practice takes up a lot of your time, Owen went on. Always thought you were the best, and you didn’t disappoint.

In the long run, being the best hadn’t mattered. At some point during this month-long visit, Jonathan would have to tell Owen why he’d really come to Pike’s Run. And hope the man would accept him. If he’d learned anything in the last several months, it was that friendship meant nothing when all hell broke loose. He was a Pierce and would always be a Pierce, and even his close relationship with Owen might be in jeopardy because of that. Why the hell had he come here?

Because, despite the pain, he held out hope Owen wouldn’t be the same as everyone else. The man had had his own struggles and might be more forgiving than others. You took a chance on me, Owen, admit it. Jonathan set down his glass. I was twenty-one when you retained me right out of law school.

Owen leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. I had a sense about you. You had a keen intellect.

And an unjaded personality you could mold to what you needed.

Owen looked at him, and Jonathan lifted his brow, waiting for his response.

You’re right. I was a ruthless miser when I hired you. The older man glanced away as the light of memories passed through his gaze. It’s fortunate that change is possible.

Jonathan didn’t need to change, damn it. What he needed was a job. And people to stay out of his personal life. I know you give Shannon a lot of the credit for how your priorities shifted, he replied, but what else helped?

Owen lowered his arms. Emma, of course. When she ran away and we had that two year separation, I battled with grief. And grief was stronger. It knocked me down, and I realized I wouldn’t be able to get up unless I fixed what was really wrong.

Jonathan nodded slowly. I admire how you forged ahead and patched things up with Emma. You discarded your pride and did what you had to. That’s a hard thing to do. Pride...it came before the fall. And it had kept him quiet about his past. But why should he be expected to share his personal pain in order to keep his standing in the community? He was a lawyer, damn it, and he’d become one in order to bring justice to this Godforsaken world.

Fear made it simpler, Owen continued. When you realize everything worth living for might be lost to you forever, pride loses its luster. Owen took another sip of his whiskey.

Married life agrees with you, as well. Jonathan recalled the image of Owen and Shannon holding hands at the dedication this morning.

Owen grinned. Son, you don’t know the half of it. Shannon is everything. But I wish she’d let me spend money on her.

Jonathan chuckled then picked up his glass for another swallow of brandy.

She won’t let me employ a cook or a maid. Owen shook his head. Or a laundress. I hate to see her washing clothes.

She’s not used to people doing for her. Jonathan thought of Shannon, who worked in the kitchen preparing lunch.

I married a farmer’s daughter and a farmer’s widow. She hasn’t known a day without chores, and she does it all with a smile on her face. The gleam of love twinkled in Owen’s eyes. She’s a diamond of the best clarity.

Envy centered in Jonathan’s gut, but he shoved it away. He’d tried to have what Owen had, and he’d lost it all because people were too damned superficial. I’m happy for you, he managed to say.

Thanks. Owen finished the last of his