Dancing on Dew Read online

  Dancing on Dew

  A Brides of Weatherton Novella

  Leah Atwood

  Copyright © 2015 by Leah Atwood

  Cover Design © Covers by Ramona

  Cover Image © The Killion Group

  Unless otherwise noted, all Scripture quotations are taken from the HCSB®, Copyright © 1999, 2000, 2002, 2003, 2009 by Holman Bible Publishers. Used by permission. HCSB® is a federally registered trademark of Holman Bible Publishers.

  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.

  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.

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  Letter from the Author

  Other Available Titles

  Love in A Fix Excerpt

  Chapter One

  Weatherton, Wyoming April 1896

  Joseph Scott disembarked from his wagon and stood on the land of his childhood home. Directly in front of him rose an entry that hadn’t been there before. Hanging from a log stretched between two upright posts, was a large replica brand of the newly renamed Double J ranch. Silvery sagebrush dotted the ground, and the blue sky stretched far into the horizon.

  He spread his arms wide, gazed over the landscape and took a deep breath, waiting for the familiar comfort to wash over him.

  It never came.

  His hands fell to his side in defeat. Comfort was an unattainable friend. He’d been foolish to think a simple change of scenery could overcome his grief. The memories of Clara rested heavily in his heart, shackling his body with sorrow.

  Yesterday marked one year since her death and the birth of their stillborn baby. That day marked the end of the life he knew. His heart had shattered into unsalvageable pieces. Only one fraction remained intact.

  Gloria, his four-year-old daughter, kept him going each day. It was for her that he’d made the decision to move back to Weatherton from Chicago. After he’d lost his job, he knew he couldn’t continue his life in a fog. Gloria needed him to be both father and mother.

  So far, he’d failed miserably on both accounts, but in Weatherton, he’d have the support of his brother, Jeremiah. Maybe in time, familiarity would settle in and erase the mourning from his soul. Until then, Gloria would be surrounded by family—an uncle, aunt, and cousin—plus a community that rallied around its people.

  He looked back to his wagon loaded with household goods. Gloria sat on the front bench, her hands folded primly in her lap. The corners of her mouth rested in a frown, as they did too often lately.

  Shame coiled his conscience. He shouldered much of the blame for her unhappiness, hadn’t set a good example. Drawing on his paternal instincts, he forced a smile to his face and a bounce to his gait as he walked toward the wagon. He reached to his daughter and swung her down, and then spun in her a circle.

  Her tiny giggles latched onto his heart. He needed to do this more often, show her a lighter side to life beyond grief. But it was difficult and exhausting. One day at a time, one hour to the next. That’s all he could do.

  Holding her against his hip, he pointed out to the land. “This is it, darling.”

  “What is it?” Gloria craned her neck, taking in the barren vista.

  “Home.”

  She stole another glance at her surroundings and scrunched her button nose. “But there’s no house.”

  A mild chuckle caught in his throat. “We still have a way to go before we reach the house, but this is our land. This is where your papa was born.”

  “In the middle of nothing?” Blue eyes opened wide.

  Joseph kissed her cheek. “Let’s get back in the wagon, and I’ll show you where soon.”

  A marginal part of his melancholy lifted, and he climbed into the wagon again and set Gloria in his lap.

  “Can I hold the reins, Papa?” Eyes so dark of a blue they were nearly violet pressed him for an answer.

  “You can help me hold them.”

  Placing her hands in front of his, she grabbed hold of the leather strips. The simple action made her happy, and she smiled and chattered for the next twenty minutes. He listened to her attentively, responding as needed.

  When the old family homestead came into view, Joseph faltered. The tiny sparks of joy he’d mustered evaporated, and he was slammed with the intense, sickening feeling of loss. He wouldn’t be here if Clara hadn’t died. She loved Chicago, wanted nothing to do with moving to Wyoming. Even though he’d always wanted to move back to Weatherton, Clara meant more to him than home.

  He’d paid a high price to get what he’d always wanted. If he could have Clara back in his arms and their son alive, he’d gladly live in Chicago his entire life and not once think of returning to Wyoming. But those were foolish thoughts as they did no good. Life was what it was.

  Grabbing the reins with one hand, he hugged Gloria. Somehow he’d find a way out of the darkness as long as he had his daughter.

  He hadn’t brought the horses to a halt yet when the door to the cabin opened. Jeremiah stepped out and ran off the porch, to the wagon. A wide grin broke out on his face. “Welcome home, brother.”

  Joseph returned the smile, genuinely glad to see his brother regardless of the circumstances. “It’s good to see you.” He slid Gloria off his lap, handed her to Jeremiah whose arms were outstretched, ready to receive his niece. “Do you remember your Uncle Jeremiah?”

  Gloria shook her head, then shifted her gaze back and forth from Joseph to Jeremiah. “He looks like you, Papa.”

  Both men laughed.

  “That’s because we’re brothers.” Joseph dismounted and stood beside his brother.

  “Did my brother look like me?” Gloria looked up at him with innocent eyes. She’d not gotten to see her baby brother before he’d been buried.

  Fighting the urge to rub his temples, Joseph gulped. “He had your nose. A perfect nose just like yours.”

  “But he’s in heaven now, with Mama, right?”

  “That’s right, darling.” He caught Jeremiah’s sympathetic gaze from the side of his eye. “Where are Tallie and Hope?”

  At the mention of his wife and daughter, Jeremiah beamed. “Inside still. Tallie didn’t want to overwhelm you right away.”

  “Can I have a minute out here?” He needed a moment to pull himself together. Gloria’s question had thrown him off balance, though it wasn’t the first time she’d posed such an inquiry.

  “Of course.” Jeremiah squatted down, putting himself eye level with Gloria. “Would you like to come inside and meet your cousin?”

  “Yes,” she answered with enthusiasm, then glanced back at Joseph. “May I?”

  “Go ahead.” Holding back a sigh, Joseph watched his brother lead Gloria into the house.

  Once they were out of view, he leaned against the wagon and took a deep breath. He’d expected the move to be difficult, but knew it was for the best. Still, he needed a minute.

  He drew another long breath and looked at the property. The house appeared cleaner and better kept than it had seven years ago. Before his family had left, they’d been grieving Pa’s death. H
e and Jeremiah kept up with the daily chores, but Ma had lost motivation to maintain the house and focused only on leaving Weatherton.

  Curiosity grabbed him, made him want to see the inside of the house. What would it look like now? Undoubtedly, different from the grand family brick home in Chicago. He and Clara had moved into it from their smaller home when Jeremiah left over a year ago, signing over his portion. Little did they know at the time they would only share a few months there before Clara’s death.

  Every thought circled back to the loss of his beloved wife. Would that ever stop? He knew people thought he should have moved on by now and not be so consumed by his grief, but he didn’t know how to make it end. He wanted to break free from it, contrary to what his friends in Chicago thought. Perhaps he only needed more time.

  Giggles drifted from the house. Gloria’s unmistakable laugh reached him, joined by a lighter, not as hearty noise that must have come from his sixteen-month-old niece. Time to go in, meet his sister-in-law and niece. He could use the distraction and had already pushed the bounds of politeness by remaining outside for so long.

  He strode to the door, then stopped. Should he knock or go straight in? Legally, it was his house as well, though it didn’t feel like home. However, he’d be sharing the dwelling with his brother’s family until another house could be built. Sooner, rather than later, he hoped. The idea of a constant presence of people exhausted him.

  Ultimately, he rapped his knuckles against the door instead of letting himself into the house.

  A few seconds later, Jeremiah opened the door with a smile and his other arm around a woman with blonde hair. “This is your home too, no need to knock. Come in.”

  Joseph stepped into an open area and closed the door behind him. His eyes automatically took a survey of the place in which he’d grown up. His gaze rested near the mantel, where Ma had scolded Jeremiah and him many times for roughhousing too close to the fire. Then to the upholstered settee that if one looked closely, they would spot a small coffee stain toward the rear left corner. So little had changed, yet the home had an inviting air with small touches that had since been added.

  “Tallie, I’d like you to meet my older brother, Joseph.”

  “We’re so happy to have you here.” Tallie stepped forward and hugged him.

  Joseph gave her a stiff pat on her shoulder, then maneuvered out of her embrace. “Thank you for having us.”

  Seeming to sense his discomfort, Tallie took a step back and blushed. “Forgive my exuberance. Jeremiah has told me so much about you that I feel like I already know you. I’ve always wanted a brother, and now I have you.”

  A close-lipped smile tried to spread. Joseph immediately liked his new sister-in-law, even if overwhelmed by her liveliness. “And now I’ll have a sister.”

  The pink on her cheeks deepened, but her eyes glowed. “Your daughter is lovely.” She started to speak more, but closed her mouth.

  An intuition told him she was about to say Gloria must look like her mother but thought better of broaching the subject of Clara. However, her statement would have been true. With her chestnut brown hair and deep, vivid eyes, Gloria was a miniature version of Clara. His own hair was a much lighter shade of brown, closer to blond. His eyes lacked the brilliance of his daughter and were a dull golden rather than vivid blue. The only physical attribute she seemed to inherit from him was height, for she stood taller than most children her age.

  “Thank you.” He glanced around the room. “Where are the girls?”

  Jeremiah smirked. “In the kitchen. Gloria convinced Tallie to give her a cookie before dinner.”

  “That’s my girl.” He should have been embarrassed at Gloria’s lack of manners, but he couldn’t bring himself to be.

  Before her mother had died, Gloria had been a precocious toddler, always conniving even at a young age to get her way. Clara and he had laughed about it many times, finding it adorable at that age, but after Clara’s death, Gloria had become more sullen. Hearing her back to her old ways did good things in his heart.

  “Come have one for yourself and meet Hope.” Jeremiah’s grin covered the lower half of his face, pride in his daughter evident.

  Hope wasn’t Jeremiah’s biological child, but no one would know by the way he spoke of her. Jeremiah loved his daughter, as much as Joseph loved Gloria, of that he was certain. His brother had told him the entire story of his whirlwind marriage upon his arrival to Wyoming. Not wishing to spend a Wyoming winter alone, he’s sought out a matchmaker in Cheyenne while he finalized his plans to start over with the ranch in Weatherton.

  The matchmaker had introduced him to Tallie, who’d been forced to work in a saloon when her employment as a governess was terminated upon the discovery she was pregnant. Jeremiah confessed he almost turned her away, but sure was glad he hadn’t.

  Regardless of his own pain, Joseph was happy for his brother. Life hadn’t been kind to him, but he wished nothing but the best for Jeremiah and Tallie. He confessed, only to himself, that he’d worried about suffering jealousy toward his brother’s good fortune in love, but to his relief, not a single envious emotion surfaced—only a bittersweet longing to still have that life with Clara.

  Later that night, Joseph lay in bed. He leaned over and watched Gloria, who slept on a makeshift mattress beside the bed. The pile of blankets and quilts was so thick, she slept on a softer surface than he did. Her arm snuggled Annie, a rag doll Clara had made her for her second birthday. She used to carry it everywhere, but as the fabric frayed, her young mind seemed to understand it needed extra care, and now she only brought it out at night.

  He’d meant to buy her a new doll before they left Chicago. The next time he went to town, he’d take Gloria and let her pick any one she wanted from the mercantile. Jeremiah said the Simpsons still ran the place. They’d thought about selling a while ago, but decided to stay. They were good folk, and Joseph remembered them being kind souls. He also couldn’t forget how they’d stood up for Tallie at a Christmas party her first year in Weatherton. Jeremiah had relayed to story to him, and though he hadn’t met Tallie at that point, he’d been angry for her but glad she had people to defend her.

  People like the Simpsons were one reason why he’d always desired to come home. Chicago was pleasant enough, but he’d never experienced a community like he had in Weatherton. And after Clara’s death, he’d learned just how weak many of his friendships were.

  With that thought, he laid his head against the pillow and closed his eyes. His heart still ached and he missed Clara fiercely, but that sense of home he’d craved since crossing into Wyoming finally struck. He drew a long breath, relishing in the small comfort that caressed his weary soul. A cloud had been lifted, and while he held no illusions the grief would miraculously disappear, he knew the healing process had begun.

  Chapter Two

  “Lucas, Lucas, Lucas,” Cicely Evans said as she picked up the slate one of her eldest students had left behind.

  Instead of the sums he was to figure, he’d drawn a picture of a horse. And since he didn’t take home his slate, she knew not to expect his sentence diagrams to be completed Monday. Lucas Holden had the most potential of all her students, but his mind never ventured far from his family’s ranch. He’d made it clear he had no desire to be in school, but his ma and two oldest brothers, Sam and Patrick, insisted he finish before being allowed to fully join the family business.

  She continued finished walking through the rows of desks, collecting forgotten objects. A ribbon. An orange. An entire lunch pail. Another slate. The items would sit on her desk until Monday when they could be claimed by their owners once school resumed after the weekend. She grabbed the broom from the closet and swished it over the floor. Mondays through Thursdays, she assigned the task to a student, but on Fridays she performed the chore herself, allowing the kids to hurry home for a two day break.

  Reaching for her stack of books to take home, she heard the creaky door open, which reminded her to speak with someone
about fixing the hinges.

  “You’ll never guess who is back in town.” The voice of her good friend, Liza Holden, echoed in the schoolhouse.

  Cicely spun around empty-handed. “Who?”

  Pieces of mischief and humor sparkled in Liza’s eyes. “Joseph Scott.”

  Her mouth gaped open for several seconds before she lifted her jaw. “What? When? Why?”

  Liza laughed. “Why do I suspect you still hold a torch for him?”

  “It was a childhood infatuation, that’s all.” Even as she made the claim her heart raced.

  He’d broken her heart when he left Weatherton, but as everyone had told her, she’d moved on and gotten over him. For the most part. No one but Joseph knew her secret, and he probably didn’t even remember. Seven years was a long time to remember something that surely had been trivial to him, yet changed her world forever.

  “Then why is your face red as a tomato.” Liza crossed her arms and smirked.

  “You’ve made me regret ever telling you about him.” Narrowing her eyes, she gave her good friend her best scowl. “Is he back for good? Tallie mentioned at the quilting several months ago that he was having a difficult time after his wife’s death.”

  She’d mourned for Joseph’s loss, though she’d never met his wife. By the time she’d found out he’d married, enough time had passed that she’d been able to curtail her feelings toward him, recognizing that they weren’t ever meant to be a couple. Still, she cared deeply for him and felt his pain. No one deserved to lose a child, and a wife so young.

  Liza sobered and sat at a desk. “Not to gossip, but I heard he lost his job in Chicago. After that, he sold the family home and moved in with Jeremiah.”

  A low whoosh came out when Cicely exhaled. She took a seat adjacent to Liza. “So tragic.”

  “Perhaps God will give him a second chance at love.” Liza stared at her with one eyebrow arched.

  “I know what you’re hinting, but forget about it. The man clearly is still devastated by his losses.” Why wouldn’t her heart stop its rapid drumming? She’d laid bare her heart once before to him, and he’d crushed it. Even if he hadn’t returned a grieving widow, she’d not pursue him. She’d long ago accepted that Joseph Scott was not the man God had chosen for her.