A Hope Revealed: Prescott Pioneers, #4

By Karen Baney

Pain.  Disappointment.  Fear.

 

Life turned out differently than Mary Colter expected.  With her abusive husband either missing or dead, and the ranch gone, she is left to raise her two children on her own.  When a neighbor takes compassion on her, she finds her hope ignited—perhaps she can start over on her brother-in-law's ranch in Arizona. 

 

Warren Cahill is confronted with one problem after another in his new role as foreman of Colter Ranch.  Missing cattle and hot-headed cowhands take most of his attention.  When Mary arrives at the ranch, tensions rise and he finds himself in the middle of it.

 

Will Mary's hope for a life free from abuse finally be realized?  Can Warren move beyond his past to embrace a new hope?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Desert Life Media
• Release date: Apr 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9780985586201

Karen Baney

Karen Baney is passionate about writing stories full of flawed characters. She enjoys weaving together stories of second chances, redemption, and overcoming personal trials. As a transplant to Arizona in the late 1990s, she loves researching the state's history and finding ways to seamlessly incorporate real history and real settings into her novels. In addition to writing and speaking, Karen works as a Software Development Manager for a Christian ministry. Her faith plays an important role both in her life and in her writing. Karen and her husband, Jim, make their home in Gilbert, Arizona, with their two dogs, Bella and Daisy. Both Jim and Karen are active at Rock Point Church in Queen Creek, Arizona.

Book preview

A Hope Revealed

Prescott Pioneers #4

Karen Baney

Copyright © 2012 Karen Baney

Prescott Pioneers Book 4:  A Hope Revealed

By Karen Baney

Cover Illustration & Design by Brian Ring Designs

All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®.  Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc.™  Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide.

  www.zondervan.com

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, at the address below.

Publisher:

Desert Life Media, LLC

Gilbert, AZ 85295

www.karenbaney.com

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN-978-0-9855862-0-1

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Author's Note

Dear Reader

About the Author

Books By This Author

Excerpt: Hidden Prospects

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

To my husband, Jim.

Thanks for being an

example of a godly husband.

For you have been my hope, Sovereign Lord, 

   my confidence since my youth.

Psalm 71:5

Chapter 1

North Texas

October 15, 1866

Mary Colter wiped the sweat from her forehead onto the rolled-up sleeve of her dress.  The hot water in the wash basin made the small laundry building a steamy sauna.  Her mother would have said it was good for her skin.  She would argue against the notion, for once she left the steamy room, her skin dried out terribly from the harsh lye she used to scour the townsfolk’s laundry clean.

A bell rang from the front of the building.  Mary dropped the shirt she was scrubbing into the basin and dried her hands on her apron.

Ma’am, Enoch Fowler greeted her.

She frowned in response, never trusting his motives.  He had no need of laundry services as he was employed by Hiram Norton and all his clothing was cared for by Norton’s staff.

They think they found yer man’s—um—remains.

Mary bit back a snort of disgust.  She couldn’t count the number of times someone came into her business with similar claims in the past two years since Reuben’s disappearance.

The sheriff said you should stop by the mortuary.  See if you can identify…

She nodded, keeping a tight lid on the small hope that perhaps she would know once and for all if she was free.

Iffen it is boss says he’ll come see ya in a few days.

Tell Mr. Norton that my answer is still no.

Ma’am.  Mr. Fowler narrowed his eyes before exiting the building.

Mary made her way back to the steam room.  She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.  Frustration and fear fought in her heart.

Two years ago, almost to the day, Reuben disappeared.  Her husband.  Her provider.  Her abuser.

While it had been hard to find a way to support herself and her two children, she managed to scrounge together enough money to rent out this old, dilapidated building and start offering laundry services.  It was a tough job that left her back aching and her hands roughened.  But it put food on the table, a roof over their heads, and clothes on their backs.

And, it came with freedom she hadn’t known in twelve years of marriage to Reuben.

No longer did she fear the sound of footfalls entering her bedroom chamber in the middle of the night.  He wasn’t there to take whatever he wanted from her however harshly he wanted it.  She didn’t have to worry about burning dinner and receiving a beating for it later.  No.  She was free—even if that freedom could still be taken away.

Two years ago, Reuben got himself into serious debt with Hiram Norton.  One afternoon in the middle of October, Reuben disappeared.  A few days later, Hiram showed up on her doorstep giving her a choice—marry him or be evicted.  When she asked if he could produce her husband’s dead body, Norton shook his head.  It was the only indication she had that Norton didn’t know Reuben’s whereabouts either.

Since then, every few months her husband’s remains were found.  She made each trip to the mortuary with the same conflicted feelings—hope that it really was him and that she was permanently free, combined with dread that it was not him and she would forever be looking over her shoulder in fear wondering if he would show up alive to reclaim her.  Each time, Hiram Norton would show up within a few days to discover if she was finally free to be his wife.

She knew why he pursued her.  For Norton, it was a matter of conquering the great Colter family.  She was attractive enough—not that it mattered to Norton.  Her looks were secondary to winning his ultimate goal.

Mary sighed.  Why would she give up freedom from Reuben’s abuse only to be chained under Hiram’s?  Nothing on this earth could force her to willingly accept that choice.

She moved back to the wash basin and hurried through the remaining clothing.  If she moved fast enough, she would have time to go to the mortuary to identify the remains before Eddie and Beth returned from school.

Hanging the last item on the line, she wiped her hands on her apron and removed it.  She pulled down her sleeves.  If this had been her first trip, she might have taken the time to freshen up.  She felt no need to do so now.

Grabbing her reticule, she walked down the board sidewalk to the mortuary, only a few doors down.

Mr. Cawley, she greeted him emotionlessly.  I understand I am expected to identify someone in your care.

Mrs. Colter.  Yes.  This way.

She held her handkerchief to her nose, prepared for any gruesome sight.  She had witnessed all manner of men in all states of decay.  Sometimes the images woke her at night.  She prayed this would be more palatable than the last.

As Mr. Cawley pulled back the cover, Mary held her tongue.  The skeletal remains of a man lay in a decaying sun-bleached suit that looked as if it might have been black at one time.

How tall would you say this man was? she asked.

Probably between five foot eight and five foot ten.

Mary frowned.  Why do you insist on wasting my time?  Reuben was well over six feet tall.  You know this!

Ma’am.  ‘Twas the sheriff’s request.  Mr. Cawley’s soft voice soothed some of the rawness from her anger.

I know it’s a difficult thing, Mrs. Colter, to come here so often.  But I must ask, do any of the personal affects look familiar?

She allowed her eyes to roam over the dead man’s clothing.  The watch was not the same as Reuben’s.  The man wore a simple gold band on his left hand, as Reuben should, but neither ring was distinctive enough to say it was him.  The height was most definitely wrong.  Besides, Reuben had all his teeth, the last she saw him.  This man looked as if he’d lost several.

It is not him, she said the words with resignation.  The little hope she tried not to let grow now vanished.  She still didn’t know if her husband was dead or alive.

The noisy chatter of her children bursting through the door brought Mary to the front room.

Eddie, Beth, put your slates and pails away.  Hurry!

Ma!  Eddie whined.

Now, Edward, she cautioned with a frown and a hand on her hip.  Georgie Larson will be here any minute.

Eddie pouted.  I don’t want to go out to the Larsons.  They ain’t got no boys!

Do not have any, she corrected his English.  Now go.

Eddie shuffled his feet to do his mother’s bidding just as a knock sounded on the door.

We’re almost ready, Georgie.

Ma’am, he greeted.

Georgie held the door open as Mary ushered her children out to the waiting carriage.

The drive to the Larson’s ranch passed quickly.  They lived relatively close to town.  Once they arrived, Georgie helped her and the children down.

Ma said to go on in, he said as he pulled the carriage away from the front of the house.

Maggie? she greeted hesitantly as she opened the door.

In the kitchen, Mary.  Come on back.

Mary gently nudged Eddie and Beth forward.  Maggie’s daughter, Helen bounded in from the kitchen.

Come on Eddie and Elizabeth.  Mama said we could watch Papa train the horses.  Helen grabbed their hands and dragged them towards the door.

Eddie shook his hand free and scowled at Helen.  Then a grin replaced his frown.  Race ya!

Be careful! Mary shouted after the jubilant children.

When she entered the kitchen, Maggie Larson turned and gave her a huge welcoming hug.

I’m so glad you decided to visit with us this evening.  It’s been far too long.

Mary nodded.  I’m glad for the break.

Missy, Maggie’s second oldest daughter, pulled some biscuits from the oven and set them aside to cool.

Missy, I think I’ve got everything under control in here.  Would you mind going out and keeping an eye on the children?  Take your sister with you.

Yes, Mama.

Maggie sighed.  Now we can talk.  Her green eyes sparked with a fire almost as brilliant as her red hair.

Mary smiled.

Tell me how you’re doing.

Fine.  Mary said.

Hmm.  Doesn’t sound like it.

She gave in and began sharing her heart with Maggie—a longtime family friend.  The sheriff asked me to identify another body.  It wasn’t him.

I see.

Mary fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve nervously.  Is it wrong that sometimes I wish one of these dead men were him?  I mean, the alternative—that he’s still alive and might come back anytime—is too frightening to consider.

Maggie looked up from the pan of gravy she stirred.  I know he was a mean man.  It must be hard wanting to do the right thing.  But I also know the last two years have brought you peace and safety that you didn’t know under his roof.

It just seems wrong to hope he’s dead.

Maggie walked over to the table and put an arm around Mary’s shoulder.  I wish I had some advice for you.

Mary nodded as her tears rose to the surface.  It was awful living with him.  Ten years of…  The last two years of this marriage have been the most peaceful because he isn’t here.  If he came back…  I just don’t think I could live with him again.

You thinking of divorce?

Mary looked up as Maggie walked back to the stove.  Where would I get the money for that?  If I had any, it would be better spent taking me and my children to Will’s ranch in the Arizona Territory.

So, you are considering it.  Divorce?

Mary bit her lip.  Her voice was a small whisper.  I have considered it.  Many times.  If it is the only way to be free from him…  She shook her head.

Maggie nodded.  Her solemn expression hinted that she knew what a difficult decision that would be, should Mary ever be faced with it.

It doesn’t matter.  I still don’t know if he’s alive or not.

Silence settled over the two women as Maggie turned her attention back to the meal for a few minutes.

What about you?  How are things with George?  Mary asked.

As good as they can be.  It’s just the ranch we’re worried about.  George is talking about sending Georgie west to locate some new land.

Mary lit up at the news.  To the Arizona Territory?  It would make sense.  Maggie had two children there—one lived on Colter Ranch.

Yes.  I miss Adam and Caroline so much.  And we just received news.  We’re grandparents!

Adam?

Both Adam’s wife and Caroline delivered both of our grandchildren on the same day.  Adam and Julia have a daughter—Catherine.

After her mother.

Maggie nodded.  And Caroline’s son is named Drew after her husband’s brother.  From their letters, it looks like Drew was born first, with Catherine arriving a few hours later.

Maggie made direct eye contact.  Can you imagine?  I’m a grandmother!

Mary smiled.  Congratulations.

With things not going well for our ranch, and with our grandchildren in Arizona, George keeps talking about moving there.  The idea is that Georgie will take the stage out a few months before we leave so he can locate land.  We hope it’ll be near Will’s ranch.  But we trust Georgie to make the best choice.

Sadness washed over Mary.  She would have to say goodbye to her last friend.  All others had forsaken her when she became a laundress—a position they deemed too far below their social standing.  Maggie was the only one who stood by her side these last two years.

She wished she could go with them.  But she didn’t have enough money to purchase the supplies for such a long trip.  And she wouldn’t ask for their charity.  George and Maggie would need what resources they had left in order to care for their own family.

By the time Georgie dropped Mary and her children back home, the hour had grown late.  The noise from the saloons at the far end of town escalated to a constant hum.  She listened to Beth and Eddie’s prayers before tucking them in for the night.  Then she readied herself for bed.

A few minutes after she turned down the lamp, a loud knock sounded at the door.

Fear gripped her heart.  What if it was Reuben?

Images of his dark scowl flashed before her eyes.  The feel of his hands on her body became so tangible she almost thought he was there.

The knock sounded again.

Mrs. Colter!  A woman’s voice came from the other side of the door.

Mary threw back her fear with the covers of her bed.  She lit a lamp and cautiously answered the door.

The ragged woman before her shook with deep coughs.  After a minute rolled by, the woman regained her breath.

Mrs. Colter, I’ve come to see my daughter.  Doc says I ain’t long for this world.  I just want to see her once.

Mary’s brow wrinkled in confusion.  I’m sorry, ma’am.  I don’t know your daughter.  I don’t see how I can be of assistance.

You’re Reuben’s woman, ain’t ya?

Yes.

Then let me see my Elizabeth.

Mary’s stomach knotted.  She wished she would have thought to grab her revolver before answering the door.  She had no way to defend herself or her children from this mad woman.

I don’t understand.

Elizabeth— The woman’s coughing spasm interrupted her for a moment.  She ain’t yourn.  She be mine.

It was not possible.  Mary remembered giving birth to her daughter six years ago.  She remembered the night she held her in her arms.  Soft brown eyes stared back at her.  She had a difficult labor and the doctor kept her heavily medicated for the first few days.  But on the fourth day after her birth, when she held her in her arms, she immediately fell in love with her precious daughter.

I see what yer thinkin’.  Yer trying to figure it out.  Let me save ya the trouble.  See, you gave birth six years ago to a boy.  Stillborn he was.  Two days later, I gave birth to Reuben’s daughter.  It were his idea to switch them.  Said life in a brothel weren’t no place for a baby.  Said it would be better for Elizabeth if he raised her.

Mary’s ability to breathe faltered.  Normalcy and reason shattered.  She sank to a chair as the woman entered her home.

Chapter 2

W hat are you saying? Mary asked the woman as she took a seat across from her at the table.

I’m saying yourn husband spent many a night in my bed.  One of those nights he got me pregnant.  I gave birth shortly after you did.

The part that Mary could easily understand was that Reuben bedded this soiled dove.  But how could Beth not be hers?  The late nights comforting her when she was colicky.  The tea parties with imaginary friends.  The kissing away of every scrape or cut.  Every precious moment with Beth was hers—not this woman’s.

When the woman shifted in her chair, Mary saw it.  The odd shade of brown eyes—lighter than Reuben’s.  Just like Elizabeth’s.  Nothing like her own violet eyes.  In fact, her dear sweet Beth shared none of her characteristics.  She always thought she more strongly resembled Reuben.

Until now.  Now she saw the round face and pronounced chin in the adult face staring back at her.

Name’s Jasmine, the woman stated before another coughing fit shook her body.

Mary remained seated.  Her legs turned to lead, pinning her in the chair.  Her heart refused to slow to a normal rhythm.  Her hands clenched in her lap under the table.

The longer she sat there, the more she believed the woman’s story.  She remembered having a very difficult labor.  She knew she forgot a few days after the birth.  Reuben had been the only one besides Julia that was home during those days.  Will and his father were gone on some trip.  Or perhaps they had been on the cattle drive.  Julia would have been only twelve or so.  She tended to spend much time out of doors.  With Mary bedridden, she probably would have been so overwhelmed with putting meals on the table that she wouldn’t have known if a switch had been made.  Besides, Reuben was too cunning.  He would have found a way to keep it from Julia.

I see yer mulling it over, Jasmine said.  Look, all I’m asking is to see her.  Just once afore I pass.  Don’t want nuthin’ else.

Mary swallowed hard.  Even if this woman was lying, what harm would there be in letting her see Beth as she slept?  It would certainly get her out of her home sooner.

Be quiet.  The children are asleep, Mary said as she led the woman to the children’s room.

Jasmine knelt next to Beth’s side of the bed.  She reached out a hand as if she was going to brush Beth’s hair from her face.  Instead, she pulled her hand back and dropped it in her lap.  In a soft voice, she whispered, You already done better’n yer mama, sweet child.  You listen to her always.  Be a good girl.  I love you.

Suddenly, Jasmine stood and ran from the room, out the front door and down the street.

Mary followed only to the threshold to close the door behind the lady of the night.  Then she dimmed the oil lamp and returned to her bed.

Sobs wracked her body.  Another one of Reuben’s lies cut her to the core.  Her own daughter was a lie.  How could he do this to her?  Did he have no love for her at all?  Had he ever?

She laughed—the kind of cackling laugh that is wrestled from a grief-stricken heart.

He never loved her.  She should know that well by now.  Lie after lie.  Manipulation.  Control.  Money was the only thing her husband ever loved.  Perhaps their son was a distant second.  She, his wife, was just a pawn he used to get what he loved most.

The next morning, Mary woke feeling more somber than her worst morning after suffering one of Reuben’s forceful nights.  This was so much worse than him taking what he wanted from her body.  He’d stolen her heart.  He buried her son and left her with his whore’s daughter—letting her believe Beth was her own.

This was the worst betrayal.

She knew he didn’t love her.  She knew he was not faithful.  She knew he was capable of dark, unfathomable deeds—like what he had done to Julia—something she only learned of a few months ago.

This felt even worse.

He let her live believing Elizabeth was her own flesh and blood daughter.  He even let her name her after her mother.  Only to find out differently now.

As she set a bowl of grits in front of Beth, she studied the child.

Lord, forgive me!  I cannot look at her now without seeing Jasmine.  I can never look at my daughter the same way again.

But Beth was still her heart’s daughter.  It mattered not a whit what Reuben had done.  It mattered not what Jasmine had said.

Beth belonged to her.  She was the only mother Beth had known.  She certainly couldn’t hand her over to a dying soiled dove.  Why she would be drawn into unspeakable things at too young of an age.  She could not.  She would not.

No, she would do what she always did.  She would pick up the shattered fragments of her heart.  She would beg God to restore her and not leave her this time.  She would move on.

Mary resolved that no matter what the truth was about Elizabeth, she would fight as hard as she must in order to make sure Beth never knew.  She would fight with that same determination to make sure she never treated her as anything other than her own.

As the children finished their breakfast, she handed them their lunch pails and sent them off to school.  Then she began stoking the fires under the wash basins, readying her next batch of laundry.  While the fires warmed the water to temperature, she pulled the dried clothes from the line and brought them into the room where she ironed.

Her heart struggled to forget the events of the last day as she used her anger to press the clothing quicker.

She had to get out of this town.  If Reuben did come back here, she didn’t want to be here waiting for him.  She wanted out.  Out of this dreadful town.  Out of her marriage.

Guilt pushed forward.  She had vowed before God and many witnesses to cherish her husband, to remain faithful, for better or for worse.  Marriage to him was about as bad as it could get.  She didn’t know his true nature when she said those vows.  She had been living in numbing grief over the recent murder of her parents when she stood at the front of the