The Mothers of Sweet Cheyenne

A Sweet Cheyenne Quartet Short Story Collection

Other works by Caroline Lee

The Sweet Cheyenne Quartet

A Cheyenne Christmas

A Cheyenne Celebration

A  Cheyenne Thanksgiving

A Cheyenne Christmas Homecoming

Where They Belong: A Sweet Cheyenne Christmas Story

The Mothers of Sweet Cheyenne: A short story collection

Everland Ever After

Click the image to be taken to a listing of all the Everland books!

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Copyright © 2016, Caroline Lee
CarolineLeeRomance@gmail.com

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

First edition: 2016

This work is made available in e-book format by Amazon Kindle at www.amazon.com

And in paperback format by CreateSpace at www.createspace.com

Cover copyright Caroline Lee

Dedication:

For the mothers, and those who ache to become mothers.

Christmas Wishes

December, 1879

“I don’t wanna go!”

Molly exchanged exasperated glances with her husband. Ash’s winter beard was back in place, but she could see the faint flash of white as he smiled at their oldest son’s antics. Antics, indeed. Since Peter had turned two years old earlier this year, Molly was just about at her wit’s end with his stubbornness, defiance, and all-around rotten attitude about following directions. She’d often thought that, were it not for his bouts of downright adorableness as he snuggled on her lap, she would’ve returned him for a full refund.

Unfortunately, none of that adorableness was in evidence now.

She glared at her husband, irritated by the way he found this amusing, and went back to dressing the baby warmly. His faint chuckle told her that he understood she was turning this mess over to him, and didn’t mind. From the corner of her eye she watched him squat down on his haunches in front of their dark-haired little boy, who was sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, his hands tucked grumpily in his armpits and a big pout on his face.

“You don’t want to go pick out a Christmas tree, Petey?”

“No! Don’t call me that!”

“Alright, Pete. Remember how your Uncle Nate told you all about picking out a tree? We all went last year, but you might not remember. We get all bundled up and climb in the sleigh and we pick out a tree from the picnic spot by the Selkirks’ ranch. Nate and I chop it down, but if you want you could help this year.”

Molly narrowed her eyes as she tried to force a flailing leg into the bunting Wendy had helped her make when Peter was a baby. Letting a child think he could help cut down a tree? If she didn’t trust Ash implicitly, and know that he was a careful and loving father, she’d jump in and object. As it was…

“I can use da ax?”

The offer had apparently drawn Peter out of his grump. Ash chuckled again, and a small smile flashed across Molly’s face as she remembered how somber he’d been when she’d met him. “Well, how about you help me with the ax? I’ll let you hold it too, when we take the first chops.”

“Choppin’ down da Christmas tree?”

“Yeah, kiddo. But then you’ve gotta let me and Uncle Nate chop it all the way down, okay?”

“Scooter can come too?”

Ash glanced at Molly, and her heart clenched a little. A month ago, Peter had started talking about—and to—his “friend” Scooter… who was completely imaginary. He seemed so young to have made that up a friend, but to Molly, it was a sign of how lonely her oldest son really was. He needed a playmate, and that was one of the reasons Noah had been born. Well, that, and the fact that Ash still couldn’t keep his hands off her, even after four years of marriage. Molly blushed slightly at the thought and hoped that her husband didn’t wonder at it.

Ash must’ve turned back to Peter. With a sigh, he agreed. “Alright, Scooter can come too.” They’d discussed this “friend,” and decided against trying to convince Peter that he wasn’t real. For now, at least. “But he doesn’t get to use the ax.”

Peter’s little brows—so like his father’s!—drew in as he contemplated. “Okay. I do da first chops, right?”

“Right. Together.” Ash, held out his hand, and Peter accepted his help in rising. Ash kept up a steady chatter about ax safety and Christmas planning while he helped his older son into his heavy winter coat, and then took the boy out to the barn to help Annie and Nate hook up the horses. Molly sighed a bit when they left the house, able to focus her attention on little Noah, who wasn’t thrilled about the outing.

Wendy climbed down the steps from the loft. “Ash got him to agree to it?”

This time Molly’s sigh was audible. “I swear, I’m at my wit’s end with that child.”

“Good thing Ash is here to help, then.”

Molly snorted her agreement, and then handed the bundled baby to her younger sister while she pulled her cape on. While she tied it securely, she watched Wendy cradling Noah. “And I’m glad that I have you to help me, too, Wendy. You have the magic touch with babies.”

Was that a hint of wistfulness in the dark blue eyes behind her sister’s spectacles? “I do love holding them.”

“Well, Noah certainly adores you. You’re so good with him.”

She pulled on her gloves, and watched her sister trace one finger down the baby’s cheek. Then the younger woman swallowed, and met Molly’s eyes. “He’s going to have to get used to not having me, though.” Molly’s breath caught in her throat. “You are too.”

An icy finger of dread crept down Molly’s neck. “What—what do you mean?”

“I’m going to go back east, Molly. I want to teach.”

“To teach what? I thought you were going to teach Peter and Noah and Annie!”

“I know. I want to do that too. But I want… more. More than just this ranch.”

A giant band clamped around Molly’s heart, and she sank into one of the kitchen chairs. Her sister was leaving? Leaving her? Leaving them? Leaving Cheyenne? “I thought you loved it here.” Her whisper was barely loud enough to reach across the room, but Wendy heard it.

“I love the people here.”

Of course she did. When they had arrived four years ago—almost exactly four years ago—Wendy had been thirteen, and Ash’s brother Nate had been only a year or two older. They’d become fast friends, and Ash and Molly had often speculated on a future between them. The two of them could spend hours reading and chatting over all sorts of things… and if that wasn’t being in love, then Molly didn’t know what was.

She forced herself to swallow. “When are you leaving?”

Wendy blinked, as if surprised. Did she think that Molly would object? Of course Molly was going to object, she was her sister! But Wendy was old enough to make her own choices, and if leaving Cheyenne—leaving them—was really what she wanted, then Molly would try her best to dissuade her… and then give in.

“I thought…” Wendy turned back to the baby, bouncing him a little sadly. “In the spring, maybe. After I turn eighteen.”

She had a few months, then, to figure out what her sister meant when she’d said that she wanted more than this. She had a few months to convince her to not go too far. To convince her that her life was here, with the people who loved her.

“Have you told Nate yet?” She’d think less of her sister if Wendy was relying on Molly to share the news. Nate was her friend, and he deserved to hear it from Wendy.

“This morning.”

Good. “How’d he take it?” Not well, she could imagine.

Wendy just shook her head slightly, still intent on little Noah’s sweet face. Molly could tell that it was an act.

Sighing, she heaved herself to her feet. There were times that she felt like an old woman, for all that she was still not thirty. The midwife had told her that she’d have a slower recovery from this pregnancy, and she’d been right. It didn’t help that it was mid-winter, and that she had a stubborn, curious little boy underfoot, and that it was almost Christmas, which was the busiest time of the year for an already-busy mama.

And now Wendy was planning on leaving them. Would she be able to manage without her younger sister? Would her younger sister be able to manage without them?

She sighed, and finished pulling on her gloves, watching her sister playing with her son. They’d all manage, somehow.

Whatever Ash had told Peter had worked, because the little boy was cheerful and chattering about Christmas plans for most of the way to the grove of firs. Molly sat beside him on the bench, holding a sleeping Noah and trying to respond appropriately. Ash was bundled under the same thick blanket, and occasionally joined in too.

The youngest Murray sister, Annie, drew Peter into a conversation using the language of signs that Wendy had developed for her years ago. Since they all used and understood the signs, Peter had learned them along with the words they’d started teaching him as a baby. He wasn’t quite as fast with them as he was with English, but he could still chat with his deaf aunt.

Molly twisted in her seat to watch her youngest sister interact with Peter. Wendy had mentioned something earlier this year that had gotten Molly thinking about a school for Annie. Now that Wendy was thinking of going off, maybe it was time to read up on this oralist education Wendy had told them about, and how children like Annie could be taught to speak and interact with the outside world. For now, though, it was sweet to know that Annie and Peter had this special bond.

For her part, Wendy sat on the back of the sleigh, her feet dangling over the side. Nate would’ve normally ridden, with the sleigh so full, but not today. Today he sat, squeezed up against Wendy, and Molly pretended not to notice their entwined hands under the blanket. They weren’t speaking, but occasionally, Wendy would press her cheek to Nate’s shoulder.

Molly sighed, and turned back to the beautiful frozen landscape in front of her.

Before long they were at the grove, and had picked out the tree. Nate had roused himself—all of them could tell how dejected he was, but he made a valiant effort to appear cheerful—to explain to Peter what to look for, and the two of them and Annie had made a great show of finding the perfect tree. And this one was perfect—thick and green and wide enough for all of the presents Ash had purchased the last time he took Molly to town for supplies.

As he’d promised, her husband let Peter take the first few swings with the ax, his own huge hands wrapped around the boy’s on the handle. Peter seemed pleased with the effort, and only mentioned Scooter once. Then he happily let his father and uncle finish the job of cutting down the tree, but he jumped back in to try to help them lift it into the sleigh.

Molly handed Noah—who’d woken up and was staring curiously around—to Wendy, and went to fetch her older son. “Honeybear, you can’t help with this part. The tree might slip, and you’d be squished. Or Daddy might not see you, and accidentally step on you.”

Peter didn’t like being told no, and wanted to make sure that everyone knew. While the two men hoisted the tree into the sleigh, he sat down right in the middle of the knee-deep snow and threw one of the loudest tantrums Molly had heard. His family winced and just worked around him. After a few minutes, Annie sat beside him, and tried to draw him into another conversation. But when he screamed his denial again, even she—who couldn’t hear him!—frowned and moved away.

Molly had to face facts. She had a very strong-willed child.

Peter was still at it, even after they tied down the tree and everyone climbed back in the sleigh. It was a good thing that they’d hitched up four horses this morning, to be able to pull the weight… and it was a good thing that they were all even-tempered, to be able to stand the screaming.

They’d made it almost halfway home, and Peter was still wailing. Apparently, ignoring him wasn’t going to work. Wendy was cooing to the baby, trying to keep him calm, and Annie was signing to Nate.

“Enough!” Ash’s booming command was enough to make them all jump in their seats, and to snap Peter’s mouth closed. Her husband was the largest man she’d ever met, and he had a voice to match. He rarely shouted, relying on coaxing and gentleness when he trained his horses, but she could see that he’d reached the end of his rope.

“Enough,” he said again, gentler this time. Without taking his eyes off the horses’ rumps, he spoke to his son. “Boy, what’s the matter with you? Why are you giving your mother—giving all of us!—such a hard time? She’s got enough to do to get ready for Christmas without you fussing. At this rate, Christmas won’t happen.”

Peter began to cry again, but this time it wasn’t the stubborn-tantrum-cry. This time it was the broken-hearted cry because his father had yelled at him. Molly smiled a bit at Ash. She didn’t always agree with his parenting choices—she tried her hardest not to yell at Peter—but she appreciated that he was making them. And since he got results, she couldn’t really complain. She’d been at her wit’s end with Peter’s tantrum, too.

So she pulled her oldest son into her lap, and rocked him back and forth a little. “It’s okay, honeybear. You’re part of my Christmastime, and I love you. I can still get everything ready to go in time, trust me.”

“Hey, Molls!” Nate always knew how to distract them. “If you could have one Christmas wish, what would it be?”

Some peace and quiet, she wanted to say, but knew that she never would. Instead, she plastered a big grin on her face. “For Peter to become best friends with Noah, so that he could have someone to play with.”

“What about you, Ash?”

“Some alone time…” Ash’s low rumble could still make her stomach flutter, when he canted those lovely gray eyes her way, “…with Molly.”

She gave him a knowing look, and then rolled her eyes. He chuckled, and her heart felt lighter.

“How about you, Pete? If you could have any Christmas wish, what would it be?”

She felt her son tense up, as if ready to explode. “Noah’s not my friend! He’s a baby!”

Hugging him, Molly brushed her cheek against the hat that covered his soft hair. Her little baby had grown up so fast. “Well? What’s your Christmas wish?”

“I wish he wasn’t a baby! I wish he wasn’t born!”

“Oh, honey, you don’t mean that.” Even as she said it, she knew that engaging with him wasn’t going to work, but she couldn’t help but defend the way her stomach had plummeted at his words.

“Yes, I do! I hate him! I wish he was grown up!” Two-year-old logic being what it was, he didn’t seem to notice or care that his wishes were contradictory. “I wish he was my friend!” Pete took a long, shuddering breath. “I wish Scooter was real!”

He dissolved into tears, and Molly was helpless to do anything but hold him. His tears turned to hiccoughs, and then to quiet murmurs as he slowly fell asleep in her arms, exhausted by his tantrum.

Long before that point, however, Ash wrapped his free arm around her, and pulled both of them against him. Molly went willingly, glad for his support and warmth. She knew Wendy had Noah safe behind them—could hear his coos and her occasional murmur to Nate, and right now one child was all that she could handle.

She’d been baking since dawn, had juggled nursing little Noah with her long list of things to prepare for the holiday, and then this. Chopping down the family Christmas tree together was a tradition she’d started her second year here, and by God, she wanted to make Christmastime a special time for everyone. She worked so hard to be cheerful and thankful for whatever help the rest of the family provided, but she was still overwhelmed by everything.

Christmastime was magical, but so much extra work for her. There were times that she just wanted to dissolve into tears herself, and today was one of them.

And so she was happy to let Ash take a little of Peter’s weight, and some of her worries, when he squeezed her tightly against him. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and rested her cheek against her husband’s shoulder.

I wish that Scooter was real, and that Peter had a real friend to distract him. I wish that Wendy wasn’t planning on leaving so soon. Molly exhaled. Christmas might be the time for miracles, but not impossible wishes. Peter couldn’t play with Scooter, Noah still wasn’t old enough to play with his brother, and Wendy had the right to search out adventure on her own. There was really only one thing she needed to wish for this year.

I wish for the strength to make it through Peter’s tantrums, and the love to support my family in their decisions, and the peace to make this a wonderful Christmas celebration, despite all of our heartaches.

She was going to need it.

It was already late afternoon by the time they made it home, and Molly was glad that she’d had the forethought to make a large batch of stew yesterday, so that she wouldn’t have to cook again tonight. She loved fixing meals for her family, but there were some nights that she wished they’d eat a little less. Tonight, though, they had plenty.

…which was good, because they had a visitor. A horse was waiting in front of their house, and a large man was just swinging down, carrying a brown sack. He had to have heard them coming, but he focused on juggling the sack and tying the horse up to the railing.

Ash pulled the horses to a stop with a gentle “Whoa,” and Peter woke up. “Home, Mommy?”

She squeezed him, her attention still on their visitor. “Home, honey.” There was only one man as big as Ash in the area, and it had to be…

Yes, when he turned to greet Nate, who was helping Wendy and Annie down off the back of the sleigh, Molly saw that her guess had been right. “Cam McLeod, you’ve come calling?” She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice; their neighbor was building a cattle ranch that backed up to the Selkirks’ spread, and he pushed himself so hard that he rarely visited.

He smiled, and she liked the way it lit up his whole face. Unlike her husband, Cam couldn’t hide his feelings if he tried. His happiness always made her chuckle. “Yes, ma’am.” He tipped his hat to her, and she rolled her eyes at his formality as she let Ash help her down.

When her husband went to shake their neighbor’s hand and welcome him, she called out “You’re welcome to stay for supper.”

He nodded gratefully, and as she ushered Peter and Annie into the house—Nate and Ash could handle the horses alone—she saw Cam draw her husband’s attention to the sack he carried. “I got that Christmas present you were asking about.”

She saw Ash’s eyes cant towards her furtively, and became suspicious enough to shoo her sister and son through the door and turn to face the men. With her hands on her hips, she raised one brow, silently asking her husband what all this was about. With a rueful smile, he glanced at Nate, who was standing forehead-to-forehead with Wendy, both of them looking down at Noah. Ash sighed and shrugged, and then jerked his chin towards the front door, inviting Cam inside.

It took a while to get them all in, and the snow stomped off their boots, and their wraps hung up by the fire, and Peter’s questions about when they could decorate the tree answered. Tonight it would wait out on the porch to dry off and then tomorrow they’d all spend the day inside decorating. It was the day that Molly looked forward to the most during the Christmas season, but it took a lot of prep work on her part.

Finally, she turned to Cam, who was still cradling the brown sack in one bent arm. “You’ll stay for some of my stew?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Molly. Da and I are getting’ tired of my cooking.”

She smiled. “Well, you’ll have to bring him next time, then. For Christmas, maybe?”

Shrugging, he said, “You know Da. He doesn’t leave the Open Skye if he can help it.” Molly nodded distractedly; when Cam had shrugged, the sack in his arms was moving, and was still moving.

Staring pointedly at it, she spoke to her husband, whom she could feel moving up behind her. “Ash? Is there something that you two want to tell me?”

His long arms snaked around her middle, pulling her against him. “Now, Molly, don’t be mad…”

“Any time anyone starts something with ‘Don’t be mad’ I know I’m going to be mad.” She felt his chuckle through his chest, and glanced over to make sure that Annie was distracting Peter. “What’s in the bag, Ash?”

Cam answered instead. “One of Da’s dogs whelped last month. I showed ‘em to Ash last time he was riding near the Open Skye.”

“I thought that Petey might like them.” Ash didn’t bother to keep his voice down, and she almost groaned when she saw her son perk up at his name.

“Them?” Oh, she was irritated, alright. Her husband had decided to get their son dogs?

“Well, only the one, Molly. Ash isn’t stupid.” Cam’s grin told her that he was teasing his friend, but she was too annoyed to care. Squatting, their neighbor placed the sack on the ground, and tilted it sideways.

Out tumbled the most adorable brown-and-white pup, a tangle of floppy ears and gangly legs and drool. With a squeal, Peter came tearing across the room and threw himself in front of the animal. Molly opened her mouth to caution him to be careful, but Ash squeezed her tightly to cut her breath—and her warning—off.

“I told Cam to pick the gentlest of the litter, sweetheart.” His warm whisper tickled the curls around her ear. “I didn’t plan on him bringing it over here right away. I was going to go check his pick out.”

“You got him a dog, Ash Barker, without consulting me?” She knew that she was hissing at her husband, but didn’t care.

“Not yet, I hadn’t. I’m sorry Cam beat me to it, but here the thing is, and you gotta admit that Pete looks pretty darn happy.”

She sighed, easing against him. He was right. Their son did look happy, wrestling on the floor with a pup the same size as him. He was giggling and the dog was licking him all over. Cam and Nate stood over them, laughing, and even Wendy and Annie were watching the joyful scene with smiles.

A puppy. A puppy for Christmas. “Don’t you think I have enough to handle around here?” They were still whispering to each other, doing their married-couple-arguing-in-front-of-the-family act, and as always, everyone else pretended they couldn’t hear.

“You do, hon. But we’ll all help with the dog, and this way Pete will have a friend to play with. Someone to occupy him and get him out of your hair sometimes.”

Put like that, there really wasn’t anything to object to. Peter needed a friend.

“Fine.” She sighed, and then sighed again when Ash squeezed her. “Fine. It can stay.”

“He.” Cam’s smile said that he’d known she’d give in.

Molly tried to make her smile as sincere as possible—she was still irritated with her husband, although she knew this was a good choice for her family—as she thought of decorating the Christmas tree with a jubilant puppy and a wild little boy. Oh Heavens, what am I getting into?

“What are you going to name him, Peter?”

Her son stopped rolling around, and lay draped across the dog, one arm around his neck. Both dog and boy looked up at her, and then at each other. The puppy let out a little bark, and licked Peter’s nose and eye, and he giggled.

When Molly saw the smile that grew across her son’s face, she knew that she’d do anything to keep it there. “Scooter. He’s my friend.”

She exhaled, and wrapped her arms around her husband. Things were going to be all right.

Spring Fever

April, 1885

“Honey?” Nate pushed open the door to the small second bedroom. He’d built the house years before he’d ever thought Wendy would marry him, but it’d always been in the back of his mind that it would make a good nursery. Wendy agreed, but she’d been using it as a place to write over the last few years, instead.

The room was stuffy and still; in the early spring they opened all the windows and doors and let the cool breezes whisk away the winter staleness, but in the room the windows were still tightly latched. Wendy sat at her little desk, the one Nate had moved in front of the window so that she could see the blooming flowers and watch him work with the horses. Normally she’d be bent industriously over a notebook, scribbling away, but she hadn’t touched a pencil in weeks. Instead, she sat with her hands folded on her lap, staring at nothing.

“Honey, you need…” Nate wasn’t sure what he should say. What he could say that would pull his wife out of this funk. Every night he held her, and she melted against him willingly enough, but he could tell that she was holding part of her heart back. Part of her back. He cleared his throat. “Did you eat breakfast this morning?”

Before this miscarriage, they would’ve gone over to Ash’s for their midday meal, but lately Molly had just been wrapping up some food for Nate to bring home. He knew that his sister-in-law worried about Wendy, but didn’t know what to tell her. Hell, he was worried about Wendy, and didn’t know what to say to make it right.

He crossed the room, and put the bundle of food on the desk beside her. The movement seemed to draw her attention, and slowly, she turned her blank gaze to his face. It nearly broke Nate’s heart, to see her looking at him that way. Like he wasn’t there.

So he sank to his knees beside her, gathering her hands in his. “Honey, you need to eat. To get strong.” The midwife had told her she could get out of bed, could resume her normal life, but she hadn’t. She just sat here, alone, while spring was happening all around her.

“I’m not hungry.” She spoke like that now, hollow and empty, in short sentences. She hadn’t left the house, hadn’t written a word, hadn’t enjoyed the new season.

“You might not think you’re hungry, but you still have to eat to stay healthy.”

“What’s the point?”

Nate’s gut clenched. “Because I need you to be healthy, honey. I need you to be healthy so that you can come back to life with me. The colts are coming, Wendy. Your sister is birthing at least one a day this week. The flowers are blooming in our meadow. There’s… bunnies and stuff. Come on, Wendy. Come back to me.”

“It’s the season of new life, Nate.” Her voice was a whisper. “I… can’t.”

With a sigh, Nate let his forehead drop down to her knee, and was gratified to feel her fingers through his long hair, a familiar touch that had started when they’d been kids. Good to know some things hadn’t changed. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He swallowed. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” He’d been out working with the horses when Wendy had lost this baby, and by the time he got home, there was nothing he could do but hold her and cry with her.

“It’s not your fault either, Wendy.” He sat up, squeezing her hands and willing her to understand. But she just blinked and looked away. “Wendy!” No response, so he squeezed harder. “Do you understand? It’s not your fault.”

When she still didn’t say anything, still didn’t look at him, Nate cursed, low and long. He couldn’t stand this, the way she was shutting him out. He hated the thought that he’d lost a part of his wife along with the baby. He pushed himself off of his knee, and gathered her up in arms. Before she could react, he’d swept her across the room and sat them both down on the small bed he’d moved in there after their nephews had outgrown it. The bed that he had once hoped his own kid would use.

She was still holding onto his arms, and he was glad that she hadn’t been able to stay apart from him. With one palm on her cheek, he held her gaze. "Wendy. What is it? Tell me.”

It damn near tore him in half, to see those lovely blue eyes tear up behind her spectacles. “It is my fault, Nate. It is. It’s my fault you’re never going to have a son or daughter. I can’t give one to you.”

It took every ounce of his self-control to keep from crushing her to him. He’d held her body enough while she mourned—this was the first time he’d held her attention. “I don’t know why we keep losing the babies, Wendy—” This was her third miscarriage in as many years—“But I know it’s not because of anything you’ve done. It’s just part of God’s design.”

“He’s punishing me, for praying to lose my first…” Her tears were flowing freely, now, and Nate had to fight from joining in. Years ago she’d given herself to a man who scorned her, and when she’d discovered that she was pregnant, she’d prayed that she wouldn’t be. She’d lost that baby, and despite Nate’s best efforts to convince her otherwise, was still half-convinced it was God answering her prayers.

“You know that’s not true. It can’t be true.”

A sob wrenched free of her throat. “Why, then?” she wailed, and he could almost be happy that she was finally—finally!—showing some real emotion.

“I don’t know, honey.” He gave into the overwhelming urge, and pulled her into his arms. “I don’t know, but I know that we’re strong enough to live through it.” He shuddered in gratitude when her arms wrapped around his middle, hoping that little response meant she was willing to live again.

“So many, Nate. So… many.”

The midwife had said, each time, that she was healthy and could resume her normal duties, and that they could keep trying. It’s what had kept them hopeful over the last years. But Nate wasn’t willing to do anything to risk Wendy. “We don’t have to keep trying, you know. We’ve got Pete and Noah and Rose, and the rest of our family. I don’t want you to think that I need a baby, because I don’t. I love you just the way we are.”

She sniffled against his shoulder, and they were still for a long moment. He felt her tears soaking through his shirt. “But I want to be a mother, like Molly and Tess.” Their neighbor was due in a few months with their third child. “I want the little nappies and the cradle and the… the feeling of being a mother!”

He stroked her back, trying to offer what comfort he could. “I know, sweetheart. But we can still have kids, you know that. There are kids out there just like me, who need parents…”

She pulled away slightly, still holding him. There were silent tears pouring down her cheeks, and if he could’ve made himself let go of her for a second, he would wipe them away. “I love you, Nate Barker. More than anything in the whole world, I want to meet your son or daughter. I want to carry that baby, I want to help you raise him or her.”

“We can become parents another way, Wendy, if you want to add to our family.”

She gave him a little shake. “I know. But I want a baby who is part of you. The best part. The part I carry in my heart.” She pushed her cheek against his shoulder again. “I love you.”

There was nothing he could do but kiss her forehead. “I love you too, honey.”

And there they sat, wrapped around each other, with no way to resolve anything. Maybe there was no resolution. Nate knew that she wouldn’t be able to stand doing this forever, but she wasn’t ready to give up yet. Maybe they’d have a baby by next year… maybe they never would. He’d be right beside her, though, through it all. He’d hold her when she needed it, and they’d share in life’s ups and downs.

And as soon as he could make himself let go of her, he’d open the little room’s window to let spring in. Life was moving on around them, and Nate wanted to as well. But more than anything, he wanted his wife beside him again. Enjoying the season of rebirth.

Summer Lovin’

July, 1885

“Did your father come home last night?” Tess had to stoop to push eggs off the serving platter onto Mae’s plate, but was curious about her father-in-law.

Instead of answering, her husband turned to seven-year-old Jacob. “Did you see Grandda’s horse in the stables this morning?”

The boy nodded, his mouth half-full of eggs. “He was milking the cows for me, too.”

Cam winked at her, then. “Guess he made it back this morning, then. Use a napkin, Mae!” Her husband lunged for their daughter, handing her the square of material. Tess just shook her head, despairing of the four-year-old ever learning to wipe her hands anyplace besides the bib of her shirt. She was already wearing her older brother’s clothes, out of sheer desperation, because she got everything else so filthy. Still, when she smiled crookedly up at her daddy, Tess’s heart lurched, and she had to turn back to the biscuit she was buttering, to keep from tearing up.

Of course, these days she teared up over just about anything. She blamed the baby, and Cam agreed, although he was usually laughing when he did. Even after almost six years of marriage, Tess still wasn’t used to the way he could always wear his emotions so openly. Every booming laugh was a pleasant surprise, and he seemed to know it.

Speaking of which, he was chuckling now, at something Jacob had said. Their son had just discovered how to make puns, and would often make Cam laugh uproariously. Just last night he’d taken a big bite of her apple pie—Molly had shared the recipe—and said “I like apples. They have a-peel.” Cam had chuckled all evening over that one.

She focused on getting Mae to get most of her eggs into her mouth, and ignored the twinge in her lower back. The tightness had started last night, but she’d been able to sleep. The baby wouldn’t be here for weeks, yet, so these were probably the practice contractions she remembered with Mae. But this one was tighter than the rest. Tight enough to make her inhale sharply.

When Cam glanced at her—it was so easy to read the love and concern in his expression—she just shook her head slightly. She didn’t want Jacob to worry; and she knew that he was a worrier. He got it from her. Still, her husband wasn’t going to let up about it either, so she tried for a distraction. “My beans are ready to be picked.” No matter how many years she planted a vegetable garden, she still loved the satisfaction of watching things grow to feed her family. “Guess what you and I are going to be doing after breakfast, missy?”

Her daughter, who loved any excuse to play in the dirt, beamed up at Tess. “Picking beans!”

She smiled and combed the brown hair out of the girl’s eyes. Her own hair was black and straight, of course, and Cam’s hair was blonde and curly. It was funny how their daughter’s ended up right in the middle—a light brown with waves that refused to stay in braids.

The back door opened with a bang, and her father-in-law stomped in. He was in the process of wiping the mud off of his boots when Ian caught his family looking at him, and scowled. “What?”

“Welcome home, Da. We were starting to worry.”

“No ye weren’t.” The older man grumbled over to the stove, where he heaped some eggs and a biscuit onto a plate, and slammed them down on the table beside Jacob. The boy knew his grandfather’s mood wasn’t nearly as grumpy as it looked, though, and he just smiled and made room.

Her husband, however, wasn’t done teasing his father. “Did you get waylaid somewhere? Or were Miss Agatha and Miss Agnes kind enough to let you bunk down there?”

Tess pushed her lips together, to keep from giggling at Ian’s angry glare. It was no secret that he was sweet on Miss Agatha Selkirk, in town, and that he often spent the evening with her and her twin sister. Sometimes he came home, sometimes he didn’t. Even though it was obvious Ian wanted his private affairs to remain… well, private, Cam did his best to tease his father mercilessly.

This time, though, the older man’s scowl crumbled a bit as he glanced at Jacob, and then Mae. He sighed, and bent over his breakfast. “She said no.” It was hard to hear around the mouthful of biscuit, and Tess exchanged glances with Cam, wondering if she’d misheard.

Her husband, as always, had no problem pushing for answers. “Who said no about what?”

Ian looked at Jacob once more, as if debating whether to explain in front of the boy, but then his shoulders drooped further. “I asked Agatha ta marry me, didn’t I? She said no.”

The sudden tightness around Tess’s belly matched the tightness in her chest, but for different reasons. She wanted her father-in-law to be happy, and he obviously wasn’t with this new development. She hadn’t even realized he’d been contemplating marriage, and wondered if Cam had known. Judging from the surprise in his expression—his face really was an open book—he didn’t.

“I’m sorry, Da. I didn’t realize…” The stiffness around her belly intensified until Tess had to bite her lip to keep from making noise. Cam liked to worry about her, and there was no need to bother him now. “Did she say why?”

Ian kept eating. “Her sister.”

“Agnes doesn’t want her sister marrying you?”

“No, Agatha just can’t stand the thought of leavin’ her twin. Rightfully so, I s’pose. They’ve been together their whole lives, after all.” Her father-in-law’s brogue got deeper when he was grumbling, but Tess couldn’t focus. “It was foolish of me to expect her ta leave Agnes, especially when I cannae offer her much.”

With a great whoosh, the pressure on Tess’s lower back released, and she couldn’t help the wince as she slowly exhaled. That one was really strong, but she couldn’t focus on the sensation, not with Mae trying to put jam on her own biscuit. Tess snatched the knife out of her daughter’s hand, knowing her jam would end up all over her tablecloth and floor.

“Could you move in with them, in town?”

“An’ leave ye and the kiddies out here all by yerself? Not with another grandchild on the way, I won’t. Ye need me.” Cam’s brows rose, and Tess was thankful that he—for once—didn’t say what was on his mind. They didn’t need Ian, true… but she loved the old grouch, and would miss him if he left the ranch.

“No, son, yer stuck with me. Agatha and I came to an arrangement. We’ll keep on the way things’ve been going, thank ye very much. Some stolen time, here and there.” He nodded, to let them know that he meant what he said. Another glance at Jacob, another mouthful of eggs, and then: “An’ maybe she’ll make an honest man outta me before we both die.”

“I don’t want you to die, Grandda.”

“Ain’t plannin’ on it, boy. What’ve ye got planned for today?”

“Dad is going to let me practice lassoing again! I got the stump a whole bunch of times, yesterday!”

The tightness was building in her lower back again, and Tess inhaled deeply, willing it to go away. She wouldn’t be able to stand another month of this constant pressure. This pregnancy had been different from her others, from almost the beginning, but she knew that each was different, and that her body was different with each one, as well. She was bigger, for instance, this time around, and Cam teased her about that too. He still thought it was funny his tiny little wife could bear his children.

Trying to ignore the tenseness of her muscles, she focused fondly on her husband across the table, sharing pointers with his father and their son. Jacob had been fathered by her first husband, who’d never even met the boy, but from the moment Cam had picked up her son out there on the Wyoming plains, the two were inseparable. In fact, when they’d finally discovered that they were pregnant again, and Tess had expressed hope it’d be a boy this time, so she could give him a son, Cam had been genuinely confused.  Jake’s the best son a man could ask for, sweetheart. He’d kissed her brow then, and held her close, and she’d fallen asleep in his arms—as she’d done every night for five years—knowing that she was cherished.

Goodness, this contraction was strong. Trying to pay attention to what advice Ian was giving Jacob, she heard herself taking short, desperate gasps. The pressure was climbing up her back and sides, and making it hard to breathe. It wasn’t until she met Cam’s eyes, saw his thoughts as clear as day, that she knew the truth. This wasn’t a practice contraction.

He was by her side in a moment, taking her hand in his. He certainly was warm, wasn’t he? She gratefully leaned against his side until the pressure released, and she felt him exhale deeply along with her. He squeezed her hand. “Sorry, Jake. I think today I’ll stay with your mother in the house, if you don’t mind.”

Ian looked between the two of them, and she saw him counting quickly in his head. He knew the baby wasn’t due for another month, and saw the flash of worry in her father-in-law’s eyes the moment before he hid it and turned to her son. “I’ll take ye out to the barn, Jake. Think yer sister wants ta learn, too?”

Mae’s mouth was full of biscuit—and her face was smeared with jam—but she brightened. “I love horsies! Pick beans tomorrow!”

Her family cleaned the table, while she just sat holding Cam’s hand. Ian glanced at them once over his shoulder as he herded the children out the door, and she saw Cam nod gratefully to his father. Then he squeezed her hand. “He’ll send someone to get Annie and Molly when the time is right, too.”

“The time isn’t right at all, Cam!” She couldn’t help the way her voice rose, until she felt like she was wailing.

She brushed her hair back from her shoulder, and made soothing noises. “Maybe we counted wrong, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t.” The pressure began to build again, and it was alarmingly constant. It shouldn’t be constant, not this soon. “It’s too early.”

“Well then…” In one move, he’d swept her away from the table and into his arms. “It’s too early. We’ll deal with this together, sweetheart. Just like everything else.” She made a half-hearted protest that she could walk upstairs on her own, but he shushed her and squeezed her closer. Truthfully, she didn’t mind being carried, and he had a way of making her feel safe.

It wasn’t until he’d helped her change into a chemise and crawl back into bed, after he’d held her and rubbed her back through three more contractions, that she had to admit the truth. “This baby is coming, Cam.” It was too early, by at least a few weeks.

He was quiet for a long moment, and she wished that she could see his expression. But he was lying behind her on the bed, his boots off, rubbing her lower back. After too many heartbeats, he pulled her back against him, nestling her rear end against his hips, and resting his big hand on her swollen, tight belly. How many nights had he talked to this child? How many times had he rested his cheek against her womb, and told his son or daughter how much he or she was loved, and how much fun they were all going to have together? How many kisses, how many encouraging jokes, had he given to her belly?

And now, she felt him caressing her tight muscles, and felt his fear as strongly as hers. There was a very real chance they weren’t going to get the chance to meet this baby, after all.

Instead of agreeing with her, though, he kissed the back of her neck. It was his favorite place to nuzzle, and felt oh-so-familiar. “Everything will be alright, Tessa.” She felt his breath against her skin, and shivered.

“Promise?” It was all she could think of, as she placed her hand over his and twined their fingers together and squeezed.

“I promise.”

The following morning, he was regretting making that promise. Tessa was drained, and there was nothing that he could do; nothing to make it alright. The contractions had come closer together throughout the day yesterday, and she’d done her best to pretend everything was normal, for the kids at least. But he’d sent Jake and Mae with Ian over to the Barker ranch a little before noon. Both of them were close with Molly and Ash’s kids, and he knew Ash would let them stay. Ian returned with Molly and Annie, who’d helped Tessa through Mae’s birth, but by evening, they were just sitting around waiting, as well.

His best friend Nate had come over yesterday evening, for some company. Nate was Ash’s brother, and his wife Wendy had lost every baby they’d tried for, so he was a solid, supportive friend when Cam needed one. But overall, Cam tried to be there with Tessa.

At one point, during the dark hours of the night, they’d all found someplace to rest, and Cam held Tessa alone in their room. She’d been moaning in their bed through another contraction, and he’d done what he could to make her comfortable. The windows were open, but the summer night air wasn’t cooling either of them down; her skin shone with sweat. “Cam.” He’d barely heard her; her voice was so weak. “Cam, I want to sleep. I need to sleep.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” He’d stroked her hair, wanting to pull her closer, but not willing to make her more uncomfortable.

“Can’t you knock me out, or something? Please? I’m… so tired.”

He’d smiled, briefly. She managed to sound so disgruntled. “No, sweetheart. I know you’re tired, but I’m not going to hit you.”

Her fingers had dug into his arm then, and his gaze flew to her face. She hadn’t been joking, had she? Her features had gone slack, and her eyes were glazed. “Please, Cam?”

He’d done this to her. He’d put his baby in her, and it was… he swallowed, finally admitting the truth. It was killing her. Women died in childbirth all the time, and maybe she wasn’t that bad, yet, but he’d never seen her like this. So listless, so lank. His heart had thudded in his chest, and he gathered her up in his arms. She must be sweltering, but she hadn’t pushed away, like she usually did when she was too warm. Instead, she just laid in his arms, her eyes closed, and his heart broke.

“I’m so sorry, Tessa. I’m so sorry.” The catch in his voice was him trying to control his fears, but it didn’t work. He’d tightened his grip on her shoulders. “I love you so much, sweetheart. Please don’t ask me to hurt you.” But could he, to save her this pain? He’d do anything to keep her safe, even if it meant losing the baby. He and the kids needed Tessa too much to lose her. Loved her too much.

She’d fallen asleep between contractions, thank God. But still, he’d hunched over her, wondering if he was trying to take her pain in himself, and cried into her lank hair.

And now, things were even worse. With the sun up, she’d been in labor for over a day. Molly kept reassuring him that this was normal, but Cam felt in his heart that something was wrong. She’d had Mae in less time than it took to fix dinner!

Annie kept trying to shoo him out of the room—at least, he thought that’s what her signs meant—but he wasn’t leaving his wife’s side, and made it clear. Tessa felt better while she was walking, even though she was so exhausted that it was more of a stumble than anything else, but he kept his arm around her and paced the room with her. Then, when she was too tired to do that, he hung up a long piece of material from the door jamb, and helped her wrap it under her arms and sort of hang from it.

Mid-morning, Annie and Molly checked on Tessa, and then began to sign back and forth, sending worried glances his way. “What? What is it?”

Molly glanced at Annie, who nodded firmly. “We think you need to ride into town to fetch the doctor, Cam. I’m sorry.” It was her tone—her expression—more than her words that caused his knees to give out. Caused him to sink down onto the rumbled sheets of the bed. He wanted to shake his head, to deny that things were so bad yet, but the pity he saw on Molly’s face told him that it was the truth. And he needed to do anything possible to help Tessa.

Swallowing down his fears, he kissed his wife’s forehead, and left the room. His father was waiting with Nate downstairs—they’d had the sense to follow the womenfolk’s dictates, at least—but wouldn’t hear of Cam leaving. “I know ye’d much rather be here, son. I’ll go ta Cheyenne.”

But Nate was already pulling on his hat. “Don’t be stupid. I’m not doing anything useful here. I’d rather you be ready to help Cam. I’ll go get the midwife.” Neither man had to mention their worries out loud; it would probably be evening before the midwife made it back to the Open Skye ranch. By then, it could be too late.

Cam shook the younger man’s hand gratefully, and then raced back upstairs to be with his wife. Just in time, too. When he came through the door, Tess was moaning his name.

“I’m here, sweetheart, I’m here.” He hurried to her side, lifting and supporting as much as he could, hating that he couldn’t take more of her pain and exhaustion.

“Cam I want…” She struggled to breathe, squirming slightly in the harness she hung from. “I want to push now.” It came out as a low moan, and he knew it was time. The next few hours would mean the world, and he was terrified.

Still, he managed to keep up a murmured litany of support as he untangled her, and half-carried her tiny, frail body over to the chair Annie had set up. How could he have made Tessa bare his children? She was so small, compared to him; and now her belly was huge and distended. So much bigger than even yesterday. She settled her hips against the front of the chair, gripping the arms, her eyes shut and her breaths coming in short gasps, and he had the most horrible feeling that he was going to lose her.

Cam dropped to his knees beside her chair, and let her wrap her fingers through his. For such a tiny woman, she sure had a strong grip, but he was more than willing to take her pain if she could take some of his energy.

An hour ago, she’d been wiped out, exhausted, but now… now, she found a hidden reserve of strength somewhere. He knelt there beside her while she braced her feet, gritted her teeth, practically lifted her rear end off of the chair, and pushed. And pushed. And pushed. Again and again. For what seemed like forever.

Molly and Annie signed back and forth, in between checking on Tessa and doing whatever else needed doing outside of Cam’s attention, which was solely focused on his dwindling wife. Finally, Annie looked up from where she crouched between Tessa’s legs, and signed something to her sister.

Molly began to sign back, but Cam interrupted. “What’d she say, Molly? Tell us.”

The other woman glanced back and forth between him and Tessa, but his wife opened her eyes long enough to nod. “I want to know.” It was barely a whisper, but he squeezed her hand. She deserved to know.

Molly took a deep breath. “Annie said the baby’s turned. It has to be born, but it can’t, not like this. She says it happens in horses, sometimes.”

Tessa’s eyes were closed again, he head back against the pillow he’d placed on the chair for just that purpose. He smoothed sweat-damped strands of her lovely black hair off of her forehead, and brought her hand to his lips. God, what would he ever do without her?

“How can I fix it?” He hadn’t meant to sound so pitiful, but he couldn’t help it more than the tears in his eyes.

“Annie thinks she can, but she wants your permission to try to turn the baby. It might hurt Tess, but we’ve got to try something, or…” She didn’t finish, but she didn’t need to. It was obvious that his strong wife would die if this lasted much longer.

Tessa nodded once, a miniscule movement, and Cam snapped, “Do it” past his tears.

Annie hurried to wash her hands once more, and then crouched between Tessa’s knees. Molly joined her to hold Tessa’s legs, and Cam followed their directions to support his wife upright. “Okay, Tess, tell me when you’ve got to push next time.”

His wife just moaned in response to Molly’s command, but Cam felt the tightness moving from her back to her belly, and heard her suck in a breath, and called down, “Now, Molly!”

He saw Molly tap her younger sister, who was already nodding, and working frantically under Tessa’s chemise. Molly tried her hardest to keep them updated. “She’s trying to guide the head… No?” She sucked in a breath, but Cam was too busy holding Tessa up to ask why. His wife exhaled on a low, steady moan, and he moaned with her, wishing there was something he could do.

Molly’s voice was rough when she spoke again. “Annie found a leg, Cam.” Tessa collapsed back against him, but Molly was still staring intently at whatever Annie was doing. “She’s hoping to find… Oh, thank God.” A sudden burst of movement, and then Tessa bent over, almost doubling over her belly in a great groan of tenseness.

“What? What is it?”

“Push, Tess, push!”

Annie squealed, an unfamiliar sound, and Molly was praying out loud, and Tessa screamed. It broke Cam, to hear her in so much pain, but then it was over, and Annie was crouched, holding a wailing infant by the legs. Cam just stared, not understanding, not sure why his wife had collapsed against him, crying. They were both crying.

He watched Molly wrap his child in a clean blanket, and then turn a tear-filled face to him. She was smiling, though, and that was enough to loosen the muscles across his shoulders, to allow him to hold Tessa tighter.

“It’s a boy, Cam. He’s tiny, because he’s early, but he’s breathing well.”

A boy. A son. He looked down at his lovely, drained wife and kissed her forehead. “A boy, Tessa. You have another son.”

She smiled slightly. “Ian.” Her voice was rough, but he understood.

“Ian.” His father would be thrilled. None of his other grandchildren had been named after him. Suddenly, Cam was filled with the most wonderful sense of joy. He wrapped both arms around his wife, and squeezed her as well as he could, with Annie still ministering between her legs. “A beautiful name, sweetheart.”

She opened those dark eyes he loved so much, and although he saw the exhaustion there, there was also pride and love, and he knew everything would be alright.

Until she moaned again, and stiffened in his arms, clawing at her belly. Cam turned a frantic gaze to Molly, who’d gone down to her knees again, even while holding the baby. “What’s wrong? What is this?”

“It’s normal, Cam, don’t worry. The afterbirth—“ Molly’s soothing tone was cut off in a gasp, and Cam’s heart climbed up his throat.

“Molly?” When Tessa bent double again, keening low in her throat, he knew this wasn’t normal, wasn’t right. “Molly, what’s going on?”

“Oh, God in Heaven!” There was another flurry of activity, and he saw Molly place his wrapped son down on the floor beside her. What could possibly—

“Another one!” There were tears on Molly’s cheeks again when she looked up at him, and then down at whatever held Annie’s attention. “Another baby, Cam!”

“Twins?” His whisper was rough. “Twins!” His mind was swimming, torn between fatigue and elation and relief that it was over, no matter the outcome. He looked down at Tessa to discover that she’d already given in to the exhaustion, fallen asleep there in his arms, her legs still held apart by whatever Annie was doing. He kissed her once, rested his forehead against hers, and that was the last he knew until Molly woke him to carry his still-sleeping wife to bed.

Later that evening, after the midwife had come and gone, and declared the babies to be healthy, if scrawny, Cam kicked off his boots and joined Tessa against the fluffy pillows. She was pale and weak, but had happily slurped down two bowls of the chicken soup Molly had whipped up. The other woman would stay with them at least until tomorrow, and had already promised Cam that she’d watch Jake and Mae for a few days. In the meantime, Annie had ridden home to tell them about their new brother and sister, and to help Wendy and Ash mind the lot of them.

Cam took his sleeping son from Tessa’s breast, and positioned their daughter in his place. Tessa shifted slightly, and winced, as the infant greedily latched on. He couldn’t help but watch in awe, his wife giving life to this perfect, tiny little human.

Dragging one finger down Ian’s cheek, he smiled to hear the baby mewl slightly, and glanced up to see his wife watching him. “What?” He whispered, not wanting to disturb the perfect moment.

“I don’t know about twins in my family, but they’re lucky in my father’s culture.” Tess remembered little of her paternal Chinese culture, but tried to share it with the kids when she could.

Cam smiled. “I never thought of it. A few of my mother’s cousins had twins, I think. Never figured they’d show up here.”

“You’re still okay with Jean?” It was the name they’d talked about for a girl, after her mother and one of his sisters.

Leaning over to kiss her forehead—careful not to disturb either baby—he smiled again. “Sweetheart, you can name them whatever you want. That was sure scary, huh?”

She exhaled on a small smile, and closed her eyes. “I don’t think I want to do that again for a long time, Cam.”

How about never? But he didn’t say it. The Lord worked in mysterious ways, and for now he was just grateful to have his wife still beside him. And not just Tessa—although it was going to take several weeks for her to recover, the midwife warned—but two beautiful new children. And, thinking about Molly making dinner downstairs, and Da’s teary expression when he’d introduced the old man to his namesake, he knew that he was a lucky man indeed. Surrounded by family and friends, building a future here together.

“I can’t wait to show Jake these two. He’s going to love them.”

She hummed slightly, breathing deeply. “Make Mae wash her hands before she comes in, though.”

Chuckling, Cam unlatched the now-sleeping Jeanie from Tessa’s breast, and covered his wife with her robe. She was already sleeping when he dropped a kiss to her lips. “I love you, my Tessa.”

Then, settling back on the bed with a tiny infant in each arm, marveling at their dark hair and perfect noses, he felt his heart swell. “And I love you too, my children.”

Life was good. Hard, sometimes, but good. He had the proof, here beside him, and in his arms. God was good.

Dear Reader,

You’ve probably figured out that I love the families of the Sweet Cheyenne Quartet well enough that I’m not going to leave them alone, and I hope you’ll forgive me for revisiting their world. I’ve started to call this series “The Apparently Inaccurately named ‘Sweet Cheyenne Quartet’”. I wonder how many more books I can squeeze into the Barker/Murray families’ lives? I hope that you’ve enjoyed this visit with the mothers of Sweet Cheyenne, and I hope that you have the opportunity to tell a mother in your life how much she means to you.

If you’ve enjoyed my brand of sweet Old West stories, I urge you to friend me on Facebook or follow me on Twitter; I frequently post fun bits of social history that I find while researching my latest book. Do you like reading historical westerns, and like hanging out with others who do too? Join us on the Pioneer Hearts Facebook page, where we have the most wonderful discussions, contests, and updates about new books!

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Caroline Lee is what George R.R. Martin once described as a "gardener author"; she delights in “planting” lovable characters in interesting situations, and allowing them to “grow” their own stories. Often they draw the story along to completely unexpected--and wonderful!--places. She considers a story a success if she can re-read it and sigh dreamily... and she wishes the same for you.

A love of historical romance prompted Caroline to pursue her degrees in social history; her Master's Degree is in Comparative World History, which is the study of themes across history (for instance, 'domestication of animals throughout the world,' or 'childhood through history'). Her theme? You guessed it: Marriage throughout world history. Her favorite focus was periods of history that brought two disparate peoples together to marry, like marriage in the Levant during the Kingdom of Jerusalem, or marriage between convicts in colonial New South Wales. She hopes that she's able to bring this love of history-- and this history of love-- to her novels.

Each one of the books in her Sweet Cheyenne Quartet has reached the Best-Sellers list on Amazon, and all are available in e-book and paperback formats.

Caroline is living her own little Happily Ever After with her husband and sons in North Carolina.

You can find her at www.CarolineLeeRomance.com.