Desert Rose: The Willingham Sisters

By Cynthia Hickey

Nothing matters but keeping her land.

Rose Willingham, oldest sister of four, is level-headed and strong. When her uncle dies, leaving a ranch in Arizona to her and her sisters, she has full confidence they can make the ranch into something to be proud of. What she didn't count on was a snake named Logan Pritchard or a handsome neighbor named Zeke McCammon to both have their eyes on Rose and her land.

One wants Rose along with her land and the other will do anything to possess one or the other.

This is the continuing story of four volumes with each volume continuing where the one before ends, and in the point of view of another sister.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cynthia Hickey
• Release date: May 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201129606

Cynthia Hickey

Multi-published and best-selling author, Cynthia Hickey, has taught writing at many conferences and small writing retreats. She and her husband run the publishing press, Winged Publications, which includes some of the CBA's best well-known authors. They live in Arizona and Arkansas, becoming snowbirds with two dogs and one cat. They have ten grandchildren who them busy and tell everyone they know that "Nana is a writer."   

Book preview

1

Arizona, 1898

There it is, sisters. This is what Uncle Willie left us. Rose Willingham flicked the reins to the oxen and set them heading down the hill toward their new home. Her sisters, Belle, Lilly, and Daisy trailed behind on horseback, leading Rose’s rust-colored mare, Persimmon.

The desert scenery was a far cry from the greenery of Georgia, but with everything they owned laid to ruins or claimed by the bank, other than what they carried with them, the three hundred acres of desert land in Northern Arizona seemed like paradise compared to marrying a stranger just to put roofs over their heads.

Where’s the house? Daisy pulled alongside the wagon.

Good question. Uncle Willie’s will said there was one. We inherited the house, the land, livestock, and the outbuildings. Rose scanned the property as they approached. She spotted the necessary, and a lean-to, but no house marred the horizon. She sighed. We’ll sleep in the wagon ... again.

They passed over a fence fallen into disrepair. The will had stated chickens and fifty head of cattle sporting the rocking W brand. All Rose could see was a few chickens scurrying in front of the wagon. They’d need to be rounded up and enclosed, then the cattle located. They hadn’t even stopped and already the list of chores piled up. After months on the trail, all she wanted was a bath and a comfortable bed. Both of which seemed to be denied to her and her sisters.

You should have worn pants like us, Lilly called as she galloped past.

Hmmph. The unladylike apparel was not for Rose. Mama must be rolling in her grave at the way the other three insisted on dressing. What if someone saw them? Not that they’d seen a living soul for days.

Found the house! Belle yelled. She lifted a door in the side of a dirt mound.

Surely not. Rose put a hand to her mouth. What in their uncle’s right mind would constitute a hole in the ground as a house? Her sister must be mistaken. Rose set the brake on the wagon, gathered her skirt in her hand, and jumped, landing with a jar on the hard ground.

Belle stepped aside, letting Rose peek into the dark hole. Is there a window?

Right here. She lifted what looked like a discarded board. And another over here. Looks like the smoke stake fell over, which is probably why we didn’t distinguish it as the house at first sight.

Nothing about this distinguishes it as a house. With the boards lifted, Rose could make out bunks stacked along two of the walls, a wood-burning stove next to a counter, and a lopsided table. She sighed. Home Sweet Home.

She backed out of the hovel. Y’all three empty the wagon and set up the horses in the lean-to. I’ll tackle inside here. She shuddered. A dirt roof and walls. They’d be covered in bugs. Bring me some bedding to drape on the walls and ceiling.

Guess she’s declared herself the boss, Daisy said, slapping her hat on her head. I always thought it was the ones wearing the britches that made all the rules.

Fuss all she wanted, but Rose was the oldest, thus the one in charge. She was the one who sat at Mama’s deathbed and listened to all the things she needed to do in order to care for her sisters. She was the one who later on made sure they had clean clothes and went to school because Pa was too distraught and drunk to make sure the girls had what they needed.

That alone made Rose the one worthy of being the boss. Except, she didn’t really want to be in charge of a ranch. She wanted a husband, children, and a family of her own. Still, she’d do what was required to make sure her sisters thrived, even if that meant building up a ranch.

Her sisters emptied the wagon bed and piled their belongings beside the door to their ... house. Rose grabbed a broom and set to work clearing cobwebs and dust from their new home. They’d have to figure out a way of building a real house as soon as possible. The Willingham women might be almost destitute, but they weren’t vermin who lived underground.

Once the loose dirt was swept away, she hung a sheet across the roof to catch any falling critters. They didn’t have enough fabric to line the walls. She’d have to check their fabric scraps and see whether she can piece enough together. Next, the floor.

She stomped up the stairs to the outside and headed for a pile of lumber next to the lean-to. She hefted a board on her shoulder.

What are doing? Lilly stopped looping a rope to stare.

I’m laying a floor in our new home.

Why?

Because we aren’t animals.

Lilly widened her eyes. There is plenty of other work to be done around here. Daisy is out hunting down the chickens, which is tough since we don’t really know how many we should have. There’s the coop to be built, cows to round up, water to fetch—

Then y’all best get busy. I’ll be out once I’ve got the house to rights. Rose hurried past making trip after trip until a rough floor laid over the dank dirt of The Pit which she had taken to calling their abode. She carried in their crates and trunks, lining the shelves with dishes and what little food they had left. How far was the nearest town anyway? They had a few coins left and supplies were running low.

I found one rooster and twelve hens, plus a bunch of little chicks who scattered out of my reach, fortunately following me once I had their mama cornered. Daisy beat her hat against her leg as she came down the five steps leading inside. That should give us eggs to eat and some to sell, if we’re lucky. Belle found a cow with a baby old enough to wean so we’ve milk if you want.

We can make and sell the butter. Rose plopped onto a stool around the rickety table. What else? Did you find the fifty head?

She nodded. They were in a little valley just over the next rise. First thing tomorrow, I’ll ride the fence line and see what needs to be done. If we’re going to make a go of this ranching, we need set jobs for each of us.

We’ll discuss it at supper. Exhaustion weighed upon her shoulders. At first, Uncle Willie’s inheritance had seemed like a God send. Now, Rose wasn’t so sure. Running over three hundred acres was a lot of work for four women.

When her sister headed back outside, Rose rested her head on her folded arms. Heavens to Betsy, she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and go to sleep.

Company’s coming! Lilly shouted.

Rose grabbed her rifle from where she’d propped it in the corner earlier and headed outside to form a line with her sisters. Every one of them watched as four riders trotted in their direction. Each of the women cradled a rifle in her arms. If their visitors weren’t friendly, they’d find the Willingham women weren’t to be trifled with.

Four men, with hair as dark as raven’s wings and eyes in varying shades of blue halted a few yards from the sisters. Rose lifted her chin and stepped forward. State your business.

We’re the McCammons. I’m Zeke and these are my brothers, Luke, Jacob, and Danny Boy. We’re your closest neighbors. He removed a black Stetson. Don’t worry. We’ve only come to say howdy. He glanced around the area. Where are your men?

You’re looking at them, Belle said. We’re the Willinghams. That’s Rose, I’m Belle, and this is Lilly and Daisy.

You plan on running this place alone? Even with his brow furrowed and astonishment flicking across his features, he was the handsomest man Rose had ever laid eyes on.

Wouldn’t it figure that she was the dirtiest she’d ever been, covered with dust and sweat from their journey when a bunch of good looking cowboys rode up? Just how far is your place?

You’ve set up house pretty close to the boundary line. We’re a couple of miles to the west. Saguaro Springs is five miles due south. That’s the closest town. It’s got a mercantile, a post office, telegraph, saloon, and a church that doubles as a saloon. More businesses opening up all the time. He leaned forward on his pommel. You ladies come calling any time you need anything, day or night.

Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Rose almost aimed her rifle at his chest. We aren’t the ‘come calling’ type of gals.

He gave her a crooked grin, causing a dimple to wink from the corner of his mouth and her heart to flutter, despite her outrage at his insinuations. No, ma’am, that ain’t what I meant. You’re on prime land here. There’s a valuable underground spring that runs through our property, and yours, and this area has a few unscrupulous characters that will try to take advantage of women ranchers to get those water rights.

I’d like to see them try.

Well, ma’am. You probably will. He clapped his hat back on his head, and pulled the reins to head his horse in the direction