A Time to Love

By Beverly Creech

Penelope Carson seemed to have it all. She was blessed with exquisite beauty, a loving husband, and a wonderful son. But one fateful day, an Indian uprising took her beloved husband and home from her. She decided to travel halfway around the world, to Scotland, in hopes her best friend, Wendy, can help her and her son heal. Upon arrival in Scotland, Penelope is immediately entangled in Highland intrigue.

Laird Augustus Campbell, a strong, proud leader of his clan, sets out to escort Wendy’s friend, Ms. Carson, to the Campbell lands. Augustus takes one look at the beautiful American and knows his life will never be the same again. He must have her . . .

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 27, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984563040

Beverly Creech

Beverly Creech is a mother of two and "Nana" to four amazing grandkids. She and her husband of forty years, reside in Tennessee with their dogs and chickens. She loves to travel and meet new people and experience their cultures, but reading has always been her favorite pastime. She enjoyed creating the characters for A Time To Love, and hopes you like reading their love story.

Book preview

Prologue

Lake City, Missouri, 1890

Connie, get the children inside the church now! Carl shouted.

Connie was terrified but tried not to show her fear as she corralled the frightened children and herded them into the church building.

Hurry now, children. Connie raised her hand. Listen up. All the older ones, make sure the younger ones follow you, Connie urged.

Several women were already gathered inside and were huddled together, crying and praying.

Pen frantically rushed through the door with Douglas. Connie, can you keep Douglas here with you? I need to go help Ian, Pen desperately pleaded.

No, Momma! I’m going with you! I can shoot a gun better than you, and Father needs me! Douglas pleaded with tearful eyes.

Connie walked over and put her arm around Pen. Oh, Pen, I understand how you feel … Connie glanced out of the window and sucked in her breath. Carl was standing in front of the church as a spear was thrown and lodged right in front of him, within inches of his boots. Carl stood his ground and didn’t even flinch. Connie ran to the door and opened it just in time to hear the chief Red Hawk tell Carl to go inside the church and that they would not burn the church or harm the people inside.

We do this for you because you have faith and reverence for the Great Spirit. We have been patient with the white eyes and their lies. They have raped our women and killed the buffalo. Now they are putting up wire on the land to keep their cows in and our people out. No more will we listen to their lies!

Carl, who had talked with Chief Red Hawk many times about the Great Spirit, tried to reason with him. He pleaded with the chief to spare the lives of the townspeople, but the chief shook his head and pointed to the church. Go!

Carl hung his head and slowly moved toward the church. He had never felt this hopeless in his life. He knew the only way to keep the women and children safe was to obey Chief Red Hawk. Somehow, he knew this day might come. There was a flood of men passing through their way to find gold, and there were reports of Indian women being raped and villages being destroyed. He muttered under his breath, God, have mercy on your people from both sides of this terrible situation.

The day started out like any other in a small Midwestern town but ended in a disaster. The fierce band of Indians burst upon the peaceful and unsuspecting citizens of Lake City that morning with surprise and such force that the town did not get off a warning shot. The Indians were like savage madmen, making fierce, haunting, horrifying cries meant to strike fear in their enemies. They fired at anyone in their path and threw burning torches into the buildings, and Beckett’s General Store was first to catch fire. Men scrambled to take cover and started firing back but with little effect on the ferocious war party. Building after building caught fire, and before long, there was so much smoke and chaos that no one noticed when the battle was over.

Survivors noticed an eerie calm as they stumbled out onto the street that was littered with dead bodies. Smoke from the burning buildings was so thick, it was hard to see five feet in front of you.

The women sobbed as they exited the church and ran in desperation to search out their loved ones. Some of the ladies and children were at the church for a meeting that morning, or there would have been more fatalities. Cries of relief and cries of agonizing pain could be heard throughout the town. Pen screamed as she fell to her knees beside the lifeless body of Ian and let the tears fall while their son Douglas stood, staring down at his father. Douglas, just six years old, swore under his breath that he would avenge his father’s death. Don’t worry, Father. I will kill them all!

Chapter 1

Six months later …

Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.

—Joshua 1:9, Old Testament

She couldn’t believe it. They were dropped off at the wrong port. Penelope stood with her satchel in hand, looking at the vast landscape in front of her. She shielded the sun from her eyes with her free hand and looked to the east and then to the west of this strange land. The countryside was truly beautiful, just as Wendy described.

Matthew smiled at Penelope. Stay here, and I will inquire about transportation to Campbell Castle. He glanced up at the sky to note the position of the sun. I’m sure it’s not far, and we have plenty of daylight left.

Penelope looked up and nodded. Yes, you are right, Matthew. I am certain someone will help us. I know I’ve told you before, but I’m so glad you came on this trip with us.

Matthew was Carl and Connie’s eldest son, and though he was just eighteen, he had proven to be very resourceful. By nature, he was calm, serious, and a scholar, and Pen and Douglas were comfortable around him. They thought of him as family, especially since Pen had watched him grow up as the son of the reverend in Lake City. His mother Connie was an extraordinary woman and one of Pen’s closet friends. Pen had promised her she would look after Matthew as if he were her own son.

Matthew smiled sweetly. Yes, ma’am. You have told me before, maybe a few hundred times.

Pen laughed and shooed him away. Oh, go on.

In no time at all, Matthew was back with two elderly gentlemen following him. They gave Penelope a wide, toothless grin and took their hats off as they bowed to her. Their smiles were genuine and contagious, and she found she couldn’t help smiling back at them. She was a little concerned about the wagon though. It made a loud creaking sound as if it were about to fall apart right in front of them.

Penelope, these two gentlemen Fingal and Gordon have a wagon and would be happy to take us to the Campbell lands, Matthew stated and tried to conceal his concern. We definitely did get off at the wrong port. I’ve been told it’s a day’s journey over rough terrain, but we have two fine guides and use of their wagon, Matthew stated encouragingly.

As he loaded their luggage onto the old wagon, he looked warily at Penelope. We will probably have to spend a night outdoors tonight. I hope that is all right with you, Penelope.

Well, Pen said, putting her hands on her hips, we will just make the most of this unfortunate circumstance. Pen smiled. We are pleased to have your assistance, gentlemen. Bless your hearts for helping us. And then she warily climbed onto the old wagon.

Fingal, who was nervously fidgeting with his cap, pulled Matthew aside. Lad, your wife is very bonny, very bonny indeed. We might have a fight on our hands if the wrong man gets a look at her.

Matthew looked over his shoulder at Penelope and nodded. Yes, sir. She is indeed very beautiful, but she is not my wife. Her husband died a few months back, and she is going to visit her dear friend Wendolyn Campbell.

Fingal put his hand to his heart and nodded as in reverence. Yes, I know of Lady Campbell, a rare beauty to be sure. It will be our honor to escort you, but … I think it would be wise to have the bonny lass wear a cape with a hood to cover up her hair, just as a precaution, you see. I’ve noticed a few insolent lads looking her way.

Matthew smiled at the man’s adoring acknowledgment of Wendolyn. Evidently, she was still turning heads. He nodded and turned to Penelope. Do you have a shawl or cape to wear that hides your hair? I don’t want to alarm you, but we might meet some undesirable characters, and we don’t want to stand out as anything but locals traveling home.

Yes, I do. Let me see. Pen reached behind her and opened her satchel. She searched through her things and pulled out a dark cape with a hood on it. This should work, she said and nodded toward Mathew. She donned the cape and pulled it over her hair without a word. She looked at Douglas and gave him a hat to wear and smiled. She was not a vain woman by any means, but neither was she oblivious to the many compliments she received on her looks and on her son’s too. His hair and looks were almost identical to hers. Their hair caught everyone’s attention wherever they went. It was a soft, very thick white gold, and when wet, Pen’s hair was almost to her knees, but when it dried in perfect ringlets, it was just below her waist. Her and her son’s eyes were a soft, pure blue, which seemed to hypnotize anyone who looked their way. Pen put her arm around Douglas and squeezed. We are on a grand adventure, Son. Are you ready?

Douglas returned her infectious smile and nodded. He was still as quiet as a church mouse. He had not voiced more than ten words since his father was killed in the Indian massacre. Pen’s heart ached for her son. He was the main reason she wanted to come on this trip. He was too young to bottle up and hold in his grief, and she knew if anyone could get through to him, it was Wendy and Aunt Meg. Pen sighed and looked heavenward. She would endure any hardship to help her son heal.

***

Laird Augustus Campbell sat atop his massive black stallion and looked out over the horizon while the ship docked. He knew Wendolyn was excited to welcome her friend to Scotland, and he was anxious to meet this woman whom Wendolyn spoke of so often. He smiled. If she were like many of the American women he read about in books, she would probably be dressed as a man with a gun belt strapped to her hips. The only thing Wendolyn told him about her looks was she had blond hair and blue eyes, and she would have her six-year-old son Douglas with her. Well, no matter what she looked like, since she was an outlander, she would be easy to spot.

Cameron rode up the hill and tried to keep the smile from his lips. He knew Laird Campbell was not happy to be on this errand in the first place. Dan Adams should have accompanied them but was injured in yesterday’s training exercises. A most inconvenient wound to his backside kept him from mounting a horse. He would be the butt of many jokes for a long time. Cameron, who found humor in almost any situation, had laughed so hard, he fell off the fence and landed in the mud. He tried to get up and slipped and fell twice before making it to his feet, in both times, pulling someone down with him. One thing led to another, and before long, the whole group of guardsmen were in the mud, rolling with laughter. Yes, it would be a long time before Dan would hear the end of that tale. But Dan didn’t mind. He was as good-natured as any of them, and he told them that seeing Cameron and the men rolling around in mud like pigs was almost worth it.

Laird, apparently, the woman and her son got off at the wrong port. The captain told me an American woman, her son, and another young American got off at the last port. That’s a half a day’s travel from here on land.

Laird Campbell shook his head in disgust. He looked up at the fading sun and rubbed his big hand over his face. Well, let’s get going before they get lost, and we have to spend a week finding them.

Laird Campbell and his men set off in a fast pace toward the other port.

***

Traveling was slower than Pen would have liked. The horses