His pa loved Caro. He said she had fire in her veins and in her eyes. His brothers loved her, too. They’d said she was tough enough to handle ranch life, and they were surprised she fell for a weak fellow like him. Perla had kissed his cheek and said he’d brought her the best gift in the world—a daughter in Caro and a new friend in Maria. Emma, Hays’s new bride, welcomed the first of what she hoped would be many new sisters.
Chisholm chuckled to himself. He still couldn’t believe the youngest Hart had been the first to take a bride.
He picked up his Texas Ranger star and held it. Should he wear it today? Caro had said she loved all of him, including his sense of duty, but was wearing the star too much? He felt naked without it, so he opted for pinning it onto his vest.
A knock on the door sounded and his father entered. “You ready, son?”
“Yes, sir.” He tugged on the lapels of his coat.
In front of the fireplace, Chisholm took his place. Whit stood beside him. It only seemed right.
Caro took his breath away when she entered the parlor in her sunflower-yellow dress, carrying a bouquet of bluebonnets. A piece of fine white lace veiled her face. Rev. Longley said something about Adam and Eve and leavin’ and cleavin’, but Chisholm didn’t’ truly hear the words. His pulse drummed in his ears as he said “I do,” and soon he was being directed to “kiss the bride.”
He blinked and took a deep breath, before lifting the veil and peering into Caro’s eyes. Love shone on her face. This incredible lady was his wife. He bent to kiss her.
“Wait,” she whispered. “Where’s your star?”
He patted his vest.
Rumbles and chuckles could be heard from those gathered to witness the wedding. She slipped her hand inside to reach his vest, removed the badge, and then replaced it on the front of his coat. “Now, Texas Ranger, you may kiss me.”
And he did, soundly, leaving a promise of more to come.
One thing was certain. His loyalty might belong to Texas, but his heart belonged to Caro Cardova Valenzuela Hart.
Lorna Seilstad brings history back to life using a generous dash of humor. She is a Carol Award finalist and the author of the Lake Manawa Summers series and the Gregory Sisters series. When she isn’t eating chocolate, she’s teaches women’s Bible classes and is a 4-H leader in her home state of Iowa. She and her husband have three children. Learn more about Lorna at www.lornaseilstad.com.
The Truest Heart
by Amanda Barratt
Acknowledgments
My heartfelt appreciation goes out to:
My agent, Rachel, for her wise guidance and never-ending encouragement.
The fabulous team at Barbour Publishing—you’re all so gifted at what you do!
And to the incredible group of ladies who brought the Hart brothers to life—you’ve made this process such a joy! I loved working with each and every one of you.
Soli Deo Gloria
Chapter One
May 1874
The Texas Hill Country, she had missed.
The man before her, she—regrettably—had not.
Annie Lawrence found a smile for Brock Parker and stepped into his stiff embrace. Her father’s arms encircled her for the briefest of moments, before he pulled away, surveying her from bonneted head to boot-clad feet.
His eyes narrowed, his mouth firming into a dour frown. The sort of frown that spoke volumes. Words soon added to the equation.
“You’re thinner than you were. You look older, too. I would think you a staid matron of thirty-five, if I didn’t know better. Where’d your bloom go, girl?”
When it came to expectations, far too often, her negative ones were met. No, exceeded. Especially where her father was concerned.
Drawing his attention away from her bloom, or lack thereof, she nudged Robbie forward. Her nine-year-old son seemed reluctant to leave the barricade of her petticoats and face the open fire of meeting his grandfather. Yet Robbie responded to her prodding, removing his straw hat and holding out his travel-grubby hand. As if Brock Parker were President Grant instead of a small-scale cattle rancher.
“Pleased to meet you, Grandfather. Ma’s told me a whole lot about you.” Robbie’s cinnamon-hued hair riffled in the breeze, his brown eyes full of hesitant anticipation.
Annie’s breath webbed in her throat. Her father wouldn’t reject his only grandson. Would he? Not on their first meeting. Not when the boy had pinned so much hope upon this encounter.
“Has she?” Her father’s Texas drawl was as smooth as maple syrup, though perhaps not quite as sweet.
Zeke, one of her father’s few hands, sauntered across the dusty yard of the Parker ranch, toward the bunkhouse, a pail of water clutched in one fist. He paused in his jaunty rendition of “Arkansas Traveler” to aim quizzical glances in his boss’s direction. No doubt the middle-aged cowhand scarcely remembered her. It had been nine years since she left, and she, a mere slip of a girl then.
Annie turned her gaze back to her son. “Oh yes, sir.” Robbie nodded vigorously. “She’s told me all ’bout how you own lots and lots of cows, and how I’d get to come help you rope ’em, and brand ’em, and you’d learn me everything there is to know.”
Instead of looking pleased, her father only glowered. “Teach, boy.”