Love Over Par: Hearts of Courage

By Cynthia Hickey

Katherine O'Connor is in dire straits and the only thing she can think of to do is apply for a job as a caddy. The only problem is...women aren't yet allowed to play golf in America.

She cuts her hair, dons boy clothing and gets the job. She didn't plan on falling for her handsome boss. Once her identity is revealed, complications of her deception seem overwhelming. Bradford Woodward knows something is suspicious about the frail young man in his employ, but since his brother hired the caddy, he'll honor the boy's employment and try to find something the boy knows how to do.

When "Kevin" asks to play in a promotional golf tournament, Brad doesn't see the harm in it. What transpires next turns his world upside down and makes him question everything he thought to be real.

Can these two repair a relationship formed under false pretenses?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cynthia Hickey
• Release date: Jul 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201275839

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

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

Your works are wonderful,

I know that full well

-Psalm 139:14 (NIV)

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1

1890, Long Island, New York

Katherine O’Connor bypassed yet another storefront not hiring. Since her parents dragged her to America a year ago, against her wishes, she might add, she had yet to find employment. She refused to be one of the wraiths standing on a street corner selling wilted flowers or penny boxes of matches.

The fact she had a brogue didn’t help. Despite her insistence that she was from Scotland, not Ireland. Prejudice ran as deep against her people as it did against the Negro in the South. Katherine wanted to go home, and not the tenement in the heart of the bustling city.

She pulled her thin shawl tighter against the early chill of a spring morning and continued her search. She had told Mam she wouldn’t return until she found something. After Da’s leg injury in a wood mill outside the city, he hadn’t found other employment, and Mam’s laundry services barely paid for the roof over their heads.

So engrossed was she in her dark thoughts, she almost passed the iron gate. She stopped and took in the lush grounds, so reminiscent of her beloved Scotland. She gripped the bars in both hands and pressed her face against the cool iron. A golf course! She glanced at the sign.

Country Acres Club. Now hiring caddies.

Here was her chance. Having played the sport of golf since she could walk, the job would be perfect for her.

The gate slid on well-oiled hinges as she pushed it open, then jumped to the side as a carriage filled with well-dressed people rumbled past. She glanced at her clean but patched wool skirt. No help for it. Kat O’Connor was not one to put on airs.

With her shoulders square and her nose in the air, she marched up the gravel drive toward the towering building at the end of the drive. She approached the large double wooden doors and found her path blocked by a muscular man in a navy jacket.

Hired help enters through the kitchen. He glared down his nose at her.

I’m here to apply for a job. She met his stare with one of her own.

We aren’t hiring.

The sign out front says you’re hiring caddies.

He laughed. Women don’t play golf in America.

She wrinkled her nose. You steal my country’s game and refuse its people the right to play?

Only the females. Go away. Check the advertisements regularly. Sometimes we hire maids and kitchen girls. The owners won’t discriminate against the Irish. He turned and sauntered away as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

Which he most likely didn’t, considering he was a man and most likely American born. She sighed, refusing to give up. Where there was a will, there was a way, her dear grandmam used to say back home.

She spotted a few young boys playing ball in a corner of the grounds. She smiled. They appeared to be about her size. She made her way to them.

Hello.

They stopped and stared.

I have five bits in my pocket. I would like to buy a shirt, a pair of trousers, stockings, shoes, and that peaky hat. She grinned. Oh, and to borrow the use of a knife.

What for? The boy closest to her size approached her. Going to rob a bank?

She blinked. What a ludicrous question. Are you going to sell me what I need or not?

He shrugged. Sure. I’m not against a bit of fun. I’ve extra clothes in the buggy. Wait here. He dashed away, leaving Kat to stare awkwardly at his playmates.

Anyone have a pocket knife? she asked.

One of them handed her a pearl handled knife that cost enough to feed her family for a week. She sighed and melted into the bushes. Wait there. Behind the bush’s covering, she closed her eyes, lifted her mane of hair, and whacked away, bringing her hair to barely above her shoulders.

Something landed on the top of the bush. Her eyes shot open. Draped over the branches were an assortment of boy’s clothing. I’ll be right out, she said.

Keep it. The knife, too. We’re always looking for ways to upset our parents. The sound of pounding feet signaled their retreat.

Kat laughed, then sobered at the sight of her hair lying at her feet. No bother. It was too heavy anyway. She stripped to her underclothes, cut a strip from the bottom of her chemise, and then tied it as tight around her chest as possible. She donned the boys clothing, stuffed her hair under the cap, and folded her feminine clothes to be retrieved later.

This was it. She’d either be hired or not. All she would lose was a few inches of hair that would grow back. She took a deep breath and stepped from the bushes.

~

Bradford Woodward rode his quarterhorse, Red, through the gates of Country Acres. He rode up to the clubhouse and handed the reins to a stableboy before approaching the full length porch where his brother Robert was speaking with a young lad.

Ah, there he is, Robert said. "My brother Bradford is in charge of our sporting events. Bradford, I’ve hired the first of our golf caddies. This is