Her One True Love

By Alice Valdal

One woman. Two men. Is Louisa Graham ready for her one true love?
Finally free from the restrictions of her clergyman father, Louisa Graham is determined to establish herself as a photographer in the gold rush town of Prospect, British Columbia. Reluctant to fall in love and protective of her independence, she sees her future as a successful businesswoman, beholden to no one. But then crime, gossip and scandal threaten to destroy her. Despite her skill, and dedication, Louisa realizes she needs the help of others to achieve her dreams.
Two men are eager to smooth the way for the new lady photographer. Cpl. Jack Kendal of the Mounted Police squires her about town, makes her laugh and flatters her extravagantly. Louisa can’t help but enjoy his charm. If only he weren’t so over-protective.
Rev. Daniel Stanton is constantly underfoot, insisting she learn frontier skills and involve herself in the community. Hasn’t the man other parishioners to bother? And yet...he listens, encourages, and respects her opinions. If only he weren’t a clergyman.
Dare she risk her heart to either man? Is love worth the cost of her independence?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alice Valdal
• Release date: Jun 10, 2021
• ISBN: 9780993621253

Alice Valdal

The only girl in a family of boys, I found my best friends between the pages of a good book. Snuggled in a warm quilt, I chased bad guys with Nancy Drew, nursed the sick with Cherry Ames and honed my imagination with Anne of Green Gables. As a teenager, I discovered Harlequin romances and have been hooked on the genre ever since. Always a history buff, I earned my B.A. from Queen's University at Kingston with a major in English and a minor in history, then went on to teach those subjects at a high school level. Over the years, life took many twists and turns, with several career changes, but my love of romance and belief in happy endings never wavered. My writing has taken a new twist in the past few years. My mixed choir of adults and children is constantly in search of a Christmas Musical Play. For our resources, there seems to be a dearth of available material, so I've now added playwright to my other hats. I live with my husband and two cats on beautiful Vancouver Island. When not spinning tales in front of the computer, I enjoy gardening, needlework, music and the ocean view from my kitchen window.

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Her One True Love

Chapter One

August 1888

On a hot sunny morning Louisa Graham, her heart beating high, stood on the boardwalk of Prospect’s main street and pointed with pride to the brand new sign over the photography studio. What do you think? On the threshold of the greatest adventure of her life, she craved her sister’s approval.

Rory McTavish’s photograph studio? What about it? Lottie O’Connor, peered past a mule, laden with prospecting tools, ambling down the street to eye the shabby store front.

Look again. Look up. Louisa gripped her fingers together, then deliberately loosed them.

Lottie tilted her chin and this time her eyes widened. She turned away from the sign to stare at Louisa. You bought Rory McTavish’s shop?

I did, at least, most of it. She pinned a smile to her lips despite the fear that fluttered in her stomach. "I hadn’t enough money to buy it outright, but I gave Rory all of my inheritance money and a note for the balance, payable in six months. If I fail, he keeps my money and gets the shop back.

Oh, Louisa. Lottie eyed the bold black letters of the sign with a troubled gaze. You could lose everything.

I won’t lose. Louisa set her jaw. Rory McTavish is a lazy shyster. I’m sure I can do better. With hard work I’ll earn enough to pay off what I owe him.

But you’ve no experience in business. Lottie wrinkled her brow. You’re welcome to live at Pine Creek Farm with Sean and me. You’re such a help with baby Bridget, and Michael adores having an aunt.

Louisa’s heart softened. She hugged her sister, bold as brass, in the middle of the day in the middle of the street. Their father, the Rev. Worthington Graham, would have denied his daughters their supper for such intemperate behaviour. Charlotte, I love you dearly, and I love your husband and children, but I can’t sponge off you forever. Besides, excitement stirred in her veins, I want something of my very own. I want to be an independent woman. You, of all people, must understand that.

Lottie heaved a deep sigh, then offered a rueful smile. I do, actually. But life can be hard for a woman alone.

But I’m not alone. I have you. Louisa stood back so she could admire the new sign. Prospect Photography Parlour, L. Graham, Proprietress. She performed a happy little skip, and then turned exuberantly to her sister. Be happy for me, Charlotte. This is my heart’s desire.

Of course! Lottie’s response was swift and unequivocal. Whatever you want, I’ll support you, but you must call me Lottie. Charlotte lived in the manse. Lottie is the woman I am now.

Exactly. Louisa exclaimed. You’ve reinvented yourself since we were girls. I want that for myself.

You shall have it. I’m sure.

Emotion threatened to overwhelm Louisa. More than anything she wanted to prove herself, to put behind her the years of scolding and belittling. Motherless since birth, she’d tried to make excuses for their father’s rigid discipline and lack of outward affection for his daughters but nothing could soften his harsh attitude.

In time, Lottie had rebelled, running all the way to British Columbia. When she’d had a child out of wedlock, he’d forbidden Louisa to even speak her sister’s name. The few letters they’d exchanged had to be sent to a third party and smuggled into the manse. Louisa gritted her teeth, the old grievances overshadowing her happiness. Then she twitched her shoulders and jutted out her chin. She’d left all that behind. Prospect, British Columbia in 1888 promised a fresh start.

Come on, then. Let’s inspect my property. Louisa stepped up to the shop, inserted the key and swung open the door. Ta da! She stepped inside with a broad smile, then stopped short, a gasp of disbelief stealing her breath. Broken lumber, torn curtains and scattered photography paper littered the floor. The door to the dark room hung crazily from one hinge. Shattered glass plates meant she’d have to wait at least a week before taking her first photograph. That miserable louse!

What is it? Lottie pushed past to survey the damage for herself.

Louisa braced for an argument. Right here, before their eyes, was all the proof Lottie needed to insist that opening a photography parlour was a foolhardy plan—never mind the fact she planned to add living quarters at the back of the shop and move from Pine Creek Farm into Prospect. Best not to tell Lottie that little detail today. Her dreams of independence and freedom lay shattered amid the dirt and litter of the shop. Defeated before she’d even made a start. She strode into the ruined shop and stubbed her toe on something hard, making a metallic clang. She stooped and lifted a dinted cashbox from under a pile of broken plaster.

What’s that? Lottie peered over her shoulder.

What the thief was after, I expect. Louisa opened the box. It was empty of course. Well, if there was anything in it, it’s gone now.

Why go to all the trouble of wrecking your property and then leave the box behind? Lottie scowled at the mess. Your vandal is illogical.

Since vandalism is illogical in the first place, I expect you’re right.

Lottie chuckled, then kicked aside a sheet of torn wallpaper, and turned a fierce look on Louisa. Very well. If Rory wants a fight. We’ll give him a fight.

Louisa uttered a strangled laugh, even as tears stood in her eyes. Thank you.

I’m a respectable married woman now, Lottie stripped off her gloves, but I used to be known around here as ‘Crazy Lottie’. She shrugged off her jacket and hung it on one of the remaining hooks by the door, then rolled up her sleeves. No one could drive me away and no one will push you around either. She went to the back of the shop and found a skimpy broom. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Oh, Lottie. Louisa looked at her sister, already sporting a smudge of dirt on her cheek. I invited you here today to help me celebrate. You were supposed to sit on a stool, like a fine lady, and let me take your photograph.

You can take a picture of me as I am. Lottie struck a pose with the skimpy broom held out like a lance. Much more interesting.

Louisa made a strangled sound somewhere between a sob and a giggle. Maybe I can make my career photographing women as they really are, strong, stubborn and hard-working. She yanked at a skewed window blind, tearing it from its moorings and tossing it into the pile of rubbish.

By noon the two women had swept up the rubble and carried it out to the backyard. I’ll burn it, Louisa dusted off her hands, once I’ve purchased a water bucket.

We can go to Barclay’s Mercantile right now.

Like this? Louisa pointed to her dirty fingernails.

Why not? Lottie whacked at her skirt, raising a cloud of white dust but not improving her appearance. It won’t be the first time I’ve defied convention.

Looking slightly dishevelled, they returned to the street, Louisa carefully locking the door behind them.

If I were you, I’d change the lock. Lottie muttered.

Can Barclay’s Mercantile do that too?

If he can’t, he’ll know who can. Jed’s been a good friend to me, Louisa. I’m sure he’ll be the same for you.

They strode briskly down the boardwalk, their heels clicking smartly against the wooden planks. Unladylike. Louisa heard their father’s voice in her head. She brought her heel down extra hard on the next step. Do you ever think of Papa?

Lottie’s foot faltered, then she linked her arm with Louisa’s and pressed forward with determination. A couple of loiterers outside the mercantile had to jump clear. Only when I need a goad. The two women marched into the mercantile on a burst of laughter.

A tall man, wearing the distinctive red serge of the Northwest Mounted Police, turned from his conversation with the merchant to look at the newcomers. Tall, broad-shouldered, handsome as a lord and with a twinkle in his eyes, he looked every inch the hero of a penny dreadful.

Oh my, Louisa whispered, grasping the door jamb for support.

Ah! Lottie kept walking until she stood before the policeman. Just the man we need. Officer, I have a complaint.

Ma’am? The policeman tipped his head, his gaze never leaving Louisa’s face.

My sister wants to report a crime. Lottie pushed Louisa forward until she stood within arm’s length of the law in Prospect.

Morning, Lottie. The storekeeper inserted himself into the conversation. You got trouble?

Morning, Jed. My sister— she tilted her head in Louisa’s direction—has trouble. And she needs supplies.

Well, Jack here is the man for her trouble. Corporal Jack Kendal, meet Mrs. Sean O’Connor and Miss Louisa Graham.

Have you been molested, Miss? Jack Kendal surveyed Louisa’s rumpled appearance.

She blushed and tried to surreptitiously tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. No, no…nothing like that. She looked at her feet and blasted herself for acting like a green schoolgirl. She was twenty-nine years old and a business woman. She should be able to report a simple crime without blushing and simpering. She forced her gaze upward until she met Jack Kendal’s eyes, then had to discipline herself not to fall into a swoon. My but he was handsome—and in uniform!

She felt Lottie’s sharp elbow to the ribs. I…, she stammered, then tried again. Property damage, she blurted. Malicious property damage. She focussed her eyes on the shiny top button of the policeman’s tunic, and recounted her tale in clear, concise sentences. When she finished, she drew a deep breath and risked a glance at his face.

That sounds like Rory McTavish to be sure, declared Bella Barclay, Jed’s new wife. Shiftless, no account, conniving… I told Jed never to give that man a cent of credit. Cash on the barrel head, I said, cash on the barrel head. Didn’t I say that Jed?

Jed rested his ample belly against the counter and cleared his throat. So you did, Bella, dear.

I expect he’s left town, Bella continued, with your money.

I don’t know if he’s left town, Louisa replied, but he certainly has my money. Money that paid for a fully-functioning photography studio.

Do you have proof of Rory’s guilt? Jack took out a small notebook and pencil.

Well, who else? Lottie demanded. He gets the shop back if Louisa can’t pay off the balance in six months. If she fails, Rory gets all her money and keeps the shop as well.

He has a motive, Jack put his notebook away, but I need more than that to charge him. He sauntered to the entrance and held open the door. I’d better have a look at the scene. He motioned to Louisa. Miss?

Of course. Louisa started forward, glad she and Lottie had made a start on cleaning the place. She wanted to make a good impression on the Mountie. As she passed through the entrance, her arm brushed his, making her slightly breathless.

Well, well, well. Bella Barclay watched their progress with avid curiosity.

Now, Bella, no gossiping. Jed flashed Lottie a sympathetic look.

She needs a water bucket, a broom, curtain material…, Lottie listed off the necessary supplies. She knew what it was to endure gossip and ridicule. Louisa needed more than physical supplies. She’d need courage and a thick skin—and a sister to stand by her.

You’re new to Prospect? Cpl. Kendal strolled along the boardwalk by Louisa’s side. While she stepped out briskly, she noted he had to shorten his stride not to outpace her. My, but the man had long legs. Miss?

Yes! Louisa startled and forced herself to not look at Jack Kendal. If she kept her eyes on the distance, maybe she could string together a coherent sentence. More or less. I was here for a few weeks last winter to help Lottie with her new baby. Since then I returned to Toronto and settled my affairs. I’ve been back for a month, living at Pine Creek Farm. Do you know it?

Heard of it. I’m a recent arrival myself.

That’s why she hadn’t met him before. Her previous sojourn in Prospect had been brief, but she’d have remembered Cpl. Jack Kendal if they’d ever met. Then you don’t know Rory McTavish or his tricks. She kicked at a stray pebble on the boardwalk.

Not specifically. Jack shot her a quick grin. But don’t you worry. I know his type. If he broke up your shop, I’ll catch him.

Who else could it be? Anxiety and frustration sent her voice into a higher register. She glanced at her companion and her heart fluttered. Jack Kendal looked the perfect lawman, but could he deliver?

I won’t know that until I’ve investigated, he replied, "but there’s been a murder on the Wild Horse Creek. Rory’s not the only outlaw on our hands.

An involuntary shiver raced down Louisa’s spine. Murder? she squeaked. And you haven’t caught the culprit?

Not yet. Cpl. Kendal’s shrug did nothing to allay her fears. We will, though. Nothing for you to worry about.

Could the murderers be in town? Or on the trail between here and Pine Creek Farm? Fear for her sister added to her trouble.

Now, now, Miss Graham, I’m sorry I mentioned it. The dead man was a miner. Whoever killed him wanted gold. He won’t bother with a small photography shop.

Louisa gritted her teeth, torn between fear of a murderer and chagrin that Cpl. Kendal considered her shop not worth plundering. This way.

They’d reached the photography parlour. Louisa unlocked the door and led him inside. We cleaned up as much as we could, but you can see the counter was torn out, the curtains ripped down.

So, you’ve already swept up?

Yes. I couldn’t abide seeing the shop in ruins. I expected to be open for business today. Fury churned in her throat. The first day of her new, independent life and Rory McTavish had sabotaged it. I hope you put McTavish in jail!

We’ll put the villain in jail, Miss, but we need evidence. It’s too bad you disturbed the scene. Valuable clues may have been lost.

Clues! What sort of clues could you find in that rubble?

Footprints for one. Jack’s smile was so winning Louisa forgot to be annoyed and smiled back.

Oh dear. I never thought… She hung her head, feeling foolish.

Never mind, the peace officer stroked his neat, military moustache while his gaze roamed over the room. Eventually his glance returned to Louisa. Has anything been taken?

Louisa dragged her gaze from the long dimple in Cpl. Kendal’s cheek and surveyed her ruined shop. It’s hard to say. Everything is such a mess. I have an inventory attached to the bill of sale.

Excellent. Jack’s approval lifted her spirits despite the chaos in her shop. Let’s see it. He took out his notebook again.

Her mood plummeted. It’s at the farm.

Jack put away his pencil. Tomorrow then. Can you bring it to the fort tomorrow?

Of course. Louisa walked to the middle of the room, her feet scuffing in the plaster dust that still covered the floorboards. She’d swept up as best she could but Rory’s broom was as patchy as his reputation. She heard a tiny ping as she kicked something hard. She bent down and picked a glass button from the dirt. Look! She held it out to Jack. Here’s your evidence.

You think that belongs to Rory? The corporal held the button to the sunlight pouring through the uncurtained window. The prism caught the light, throwing a rainbow against the wall. Looks more like a woman’s to me.

Oh. Louisa worried the cuticle on her thumb. You think a woman did this?

Possible. Jack put the button in his pocket. If she had a sledge hammer. Or the button could have been lost weeks ago. It’s small enough to go unnoticed.

So, no evidence. Louisa kicked at the dust again, but no further clues presented themselves. Do you want to look at the sweepings?

Good idea.

They walked out to the rubbish pile in the yard. Let me do this. Jack motioned Louisa to stand aside. You’ll get all dirty.

Louisa blushed. She was already dirty, but it was nice of Jack to pretend she looked like a lady. I could…

It’s my job. Jack sent her one of his devastating smiles, the dimple in his cheek appearing for a moment. I promise to show you anything I find.

She nodded and stood back, her hands folded properly against her waist. Even though she longed to hunt for clues herself, watching Jack Kendal had its compensations. She admired the breadth of his shoulders and the thick fringe of hair visible beneath his pillbox hat. His hands were strong and sure with never a wasted movement. He’d set aside his white gauntlets. She picked them up, admiring the soft leather. These don’t seem very practical, she said.

They’re not. Jack glanced up and she had a good view of his long lashes. I was on parade this morning. The gold braid, gloves…they’re just for show. My working uniform is much plainer.

Louisa nodded but she had her doubts. With his military bearing and his protective attitude, Jack’s physique screamed policeman. She couldn’t imagine the word plain attached to Jack Kendal. She looked at his dirty hands and smudged trousers and was glad he’d insisted she stay clear.

He stood and dusted off his knees, nothing here that I can see. Just broken picture frames and broken glass.

Louisa? Where are you? Lottie called from inside.

Out here. Louisa jumped up and hurried toward the shop. The interruption served to remind her that mooning over a handsome man had no place in her plans. She needed to devote all her attention to succeeding as a photographer. Then she could enjoy her independence.

I’ve brought a bucket and mop. Lottie burst through the back door, her purchases held up like a trophy, and I’ve opened an account for you with Jed. You’ll need curtains and…

Lottie, I can… Louisa started to protest.

I know you can. Lottie dropped the bucket with a clang. You’ll pay the account. I just saved you a little time. Are you finished here? She cut off any further discussion. I’m starving.

Officer? Louisa directed a questioning look at Cpl. Kendal.

Nothing more to do here. He crooked his elbow. May I escort you ladies to the Rockingham? I hear they make a fine tea.

Excellent. Lottie headed back through the shop, leaving Louisa to follow with Jack.

I’ve never met a lady photographer before. He waited while Louisa locked the door to the street.

There are others. Louisa fell into step beside him. Hannah Maynard in Victoria, for example. She’s quite famous.

And do you aim to be famous? Jack bent his attention on her, an indulgent smile playing across his face.

I don’t care about fame—she raised her chin—but I mean to be successful.

Good for you.

Louisa bristled at his patronizing tone. Next he’d be patting her on the head or chucking her under the chin. Then she stole a glance at his handsome face and all her annoyance vanished. My but the man was a feast for the eyes—except she wasn’t interested in any man. She’d make her own life without a husband.

Here we are. Jack stopped outside the door of Prospect’s finest hotel. I’ll leave you now and get back to the fort. Bring me that inventory tomorrow.

Louisa nodded and was about to enter the hotel when she saw Jack stiffen. Curious, she followed the direction of his gaze. Her own shoulders tensed. Coming toward them was a man in a black suit wearing a clerical collar. She glanced about for a means of escape. After a lifetime in the manse, she’d had her fill of earnest men dictating how she should talk and walk and think.

Daniel. Jack nodded curtly.

Jack.

I’m just off. The lawman touched a finger to his hat. Miss Graham has had a spot of trouble.

I’m sorry to hear that. The clergyman’s voice was deep and resonant. He cast a searching look over Louisa’s person, pausing on the smear of plaster dust on her skirt. Are you hurt?

No. Louisa folded her arms across her chest and stuck out her chin. She knew she looked a mess, but she would not explain herself to a judgmental preacher.

Happy to hear it. His mild retort brought a blush to her cheek. She’d been rude and she knew it, but she would not duck her head. She’d had enough of that with her father.

Reverend Stanton, Lottie stepped forward. I’d like you meet my sister, Miss Louisa Graham. Louisa, this is Reverend Stanton, the new minister of our church.

Oh. Louisa stared at her dusty boots and wished she were a Quaker, or an agnostic or even a pagan. Anything to avoid listening to the Rev. Stanton every Sunday. How to you do? She directed her remarks to a spot just over his left shoulder.

Very well, thank you.

She yanked her gaze to his face. Had there been the hint of a chuckle in his voice? Her hackles rose. She didn’t want to be lectured, but no more did she care to be laughed at.

Louisa has purchased the photography studio. Lottie explained and went into detail about the events of the morning. We’re just off to restore ourselves with a cup of tea and a bite to eat. She indicated the hotel. Would you care to join us?

Behind the clergyman’s back Louisa looked daggers at her sister. As if the morning wasn’t bad enough without dragging a preacher into it.

Another time. Rev. Stanton turned his amused gaze on Louisa. I’m sure your sister wishes to talk without a third party present. I’ll see you both on Sunday. He nodded and left them alone on the hotel steps.

Well! Louisa exclaimed. I thought he’d never leave.

What have you got against Reverend Stanton? Lottie led the way to the tea room, well away from the saloon. You’ve only just met him.

He’s a preacher. Louisa’s face darkened.

He’s not our father. Lottie sat down at a small round table and drew off her gloves.

He’s younger, Louisa admitted but her expression didn’t brighten. She dropped into the second chair and fanned her face with her hand. I’ve had enough of preachers to last a lifetime.

We won’t argue, Lottie ordered tea and a plate of sandwiches, especially not on an empty stomach.

I’m famished. Louisa, too, removed her gloves and laid them in her lap. Who’d have thought trouble would give me an appetite? She looked about the tearoom and her eyes opened wide. This is very nice.

We’re not so uncivilized in Prospect, Lottie laughed and poured tea from the flowered china pot their waiter set before them. Now that the railway has come, we’re very up-to-date.

I wonder. Louisa tapped her teeth with her forefinger. Do you suppose the owners of this place would like some pictures? I could put them on postcards and sell them at the train station. It would be good advertising for the Rockingham.

And income for you, Lottie chuckled. I’ll introduce you to the proprietor, Grey North.

He’s the man who married the schoolteacher I filled in for?

"The very same. Lord North. Not that you’d ever know. Very down-to-earth our Grey. Lottie bit into a dainty sandwich. Now, can we forget business and enjoy our lunch?"

Of course. Louisa tried to listen as Lottie filled her in on the various personages about town, but her mind raced with ideas for her photography business. Rory may have thought he’d defeated her, but he’d only made her more determined than ever. She’d show him, and her father,…and Rev. Daniel Stanton that she was made of sterner stuff.

…Sean says there’s talk of thieving on the creeks. I hope your Mountie has reinforcements.

Pardon? Louisa brought her attention back to Lottie.

Ah, that got your attention. Her sister’s eyes twinkled over the rim of her teacup. Corporal Jack Kendal meets with your favour, even if Reverend Stanton does not.

Not at all. Louise straightened her spine and tried to look down her nose. I’m merely thinking of business. It’s possible the police would like photographs of their captives and I’m just the photographer to take them. Doesn’t hurt to make friends on the force.

Of course, Lottie dusted the crumbs from her fingers. I’m sure you never noticed the Mountie’s handsome face and square shoulders. Jake was it?

Jack.

Ha! Lottie pointed a finger. You noticed.

Don’t gloat, Louisa laughed, I’ll admit Corporal Jack Kendal is a handsome man. But right now, I’d rather he caught the rat who broke up my store than walk out with me.

Can’t he do both?

Maybe, but I need to concentrate on my business. I’m twenty-nine years old, Lottie. A spinster.

Don’t count on staying that way. Lottie grinned ruefully. Around here men outnumber women a hundred to one. If you want a husband you can have one. Even if you don’t, you’ll be beset with suitors.

Then I’ll practice saying ‘no.’ I want to be my own woman, not an attachment to some man.

You don’t want love and children? Lottie stirred her tea, a sorrowful expression on her face.

"I love your children." Louisa set down her teacup with a snap. She’d once held dreams, but that was the past. Now she’d set her face to the future, and a successful business.

Time I went home. Lottie fished some money from her reticule and laid it on the table. Are you ready?

Not yet. Louisa stood and walked outside with her sister. "You take the buggy. I’ll pick up a