Spirit of the Valley

Book 0: Green Valley Series

by Jane Shoup

Genres: Historical Fiction; Sagas; Western Romance

Synopsis

Fleeing her abusive husband, a wife and mother learns to truly live—and love—again in this historical romance from the award–winning author of Knightfall. In Virginia, 1883, some things you can run from…but some you must fight. Pauline Ray is on the run and she won't get far. With thirty-four dollars, two small children to feed, the cold coming in fast, she has no idea how she'll hide her tracks from her monster of a husband, let alone support her family. But Pauline is done with convention, and with nothing from her old life worth preserving, not even her name, she's free to become a whole new person. All she has to do is singlehandedly turn a run-down homestead into the haven she and her children need, in a town full of wagging tongues and watchful eyes. But one man is watching her with more than judgment. Pauline would never have considered his scandalous proposal in her days as an obedient, suffering wife and daughter. But "Lizzie" might dare to accept him—his love, his work, and his secrets—and wrest her story toward a happily ever after all her own... “Shoup once again proves adept at taking on serious themes, this time in the second Green Valley romance…which addresses domestic violence with care and sensitivity.”— Publishers Weekly

Release date: November 1, 2015

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 352

Sample

August 18, 1883

Lester Shoemaker couldn’t help his curiosity about the woman who sat opposite him in the train car between her children. Even as exhausted as she obviously was, she was lovely. Her hair was the color of sun-bleached wheat, her bone structure was delicate, and she had remarkable gray-blue eyes. She also had excellent breasts, especially for someone as slender as she was, although he’d tried to keep his gaze trained elsewhere, as a gentleman should.

As a salesman, Lester had ridden a long way on the Norfolk and Western Railway, Lexington to Richmond and back again, and he’d noticed the lady after making a trip to the smoking car to stretch his legs. The second-class accommodations where she and her children sat were crowded and uncomfortable, and so he’d discreetly invited her to join him in his compartment. With his balding head and gentle smile, he was certainly harmless looking enough. In fact, he was harmless—except when it came to closing a sale. The lady had hesitated, but the heat was taking a toll, and so she’d accepted.

In his compartment he’d tried to draw her into conversation, something he had a special talent for, but failed. Her children were cute things too, especially the small boy, who looked very like her, although the poor thing, who couldn’t have been more than four, had a puffy black eye. As the train closed in on his destination, he tried one last time to engage her in conversation. “You folks stopping in Lexington or going on?”

“Going on,” the woman replied with a polite smile.

“Ah. I hope you don’t have much farther to go.”

“I . . . I don’t think so. Green Valley?”

“Oh, that’s not far at all. Pretty town. Growing fast. I remember when it was a village of just a few hundred people. It wasn’t that many years ago.” She gave a tolerant smile and nod, but she wasn’t a bit interested; he could tell. “Are you, uh, from Green Valley, or visiting?”

The little girl glanced at him as if suspicious of his motives, which caused him to feel a tinge of uneasiness.

“Visiting,” the woman replied. “An aunt.”

“Ah.”

“She’s not well, so—”

He murmured sympathetically. He was about to comment when the conductor called out the next stop. “That’s me,” he said. The train braked to a stop and he stood.

“It was kind of you to let us sit here,” the woman said, moving as if to leave.

“Stay. Please. Might as well be comfortable, eh?”

She looked doubtful. “Are you certain it’s all right?”

He nodded. “I’ll mention it to the conductor on my way out. I travel a great deal, so they grant me some latitude.”

“Thank you,” she said with a sincerity that touched him. “Good day to you, sir.”

“And to you all.”

As Lester stepped from the train, the faces of the three individuals in his compartment stayed with him. The lovely woman who seemed haunted, the little girl who didn’t seem to trust him a bit, and the small boy with the painful-looking black eye. The child had sat next to his mother, his head resting against her side the entire time. Children usually fidgeted and fussed, especially in this heat, but not those two. They had clung to their mama as if they had suffered a great loss. But that was probably it. The woman had lost her husband, the children their father. Or perhaps a beloved grandparent or even sibling. They were in mourning. He cleared his throat and hoped he hadn’t pressed her too hard for conversation.

“How much farther will it be, Mama?” Rebecca asked as the train started in motion again.

Pauline Ray shook her head, not knowing the answer herself. She’d bought as much passage as she dared, and she knew they would end up in a place called Green Valley, Virginia, but that was all she knew. “Not too much farther, I think.”

Rebecca looked out the window. “There’s lots of hills around here. Indiana was so flat.”

“It would be best if we don’t mention Indiana anymore,” Pauline rejoined gently.

Rebecca nodded solemnly. “It’s better in here,” she said, looking around the car.

“It is,” Pauline agreed. “It was nice of the man.” Pauline sighed tiredly, leaned her head back against the upholstered seat, and listened to the clacking of the wheels on the track. It was far better in this compartment than in the hard seats of second class. The window was cracked open, allowing a precious flow of air, warm as it was. The heat was oppressive in second class, and the smell had been even worse.

“I’m hungry,” Rebecca said sheepishly.

Pauline looked at her. “There’s an apple.”

“I’m tired of apples,” Rebecca complained.

“It’s what we have left.”

“Can we have something good for dinner?”

Pauline looked out the window and felt a tingling in her face as she struggled not to cry.

“An apple’s fine, Mama,” Rebecca said quickly. “I’m sorry.”

The apology was too much and Pauline closed her eyes and felt scalding tears escape and slide down her face.

“I’m sorry, Mama.”

Pauline wiped her face and shook her head. “It’s not you,” she whispered, looking at her daughter. “I promise. I’m just tired and I want something good for our dinner, too.” Rebecca nodded but still looked remorseful. Pauline closed her stinging eyes for a moment. Freedom, safety, a new town and a new life—this had been her sole quest for so long, but exactly what she was to do when they reached their final destination was still a mystery, and she’d dragged her children into a strange new place where they knew no one.

“Here you go, Jake,” Rebecca said, offering him an apple.

Jake shook his head, refusing it, and Rebecca looked at her mother as if asking what she should do. “Do you want one?” Rebecca asked, offering it to her.

Pauline took it in hand. “You want to share it?” she asked Jake.

He shook his head.

She took a bite. “It’s good,” she coaxed.

He shook his head again and she sighed silently and looked back out the window, wondering what Green Valley would be like. She hoped it was a good place with friendly enough people and an opportunity to make her way, because she had only thirty-three dollars and eighty-two cents left to her name. Whatever choices she’d had in her life, they were over and done with. There were none left at this point. She would have to find a cheap boarding house and a place of employment quickly. She could cook and sew well and bake better than most. There would be a place for her somewhere. She had to believe it. She had to have faith.

Like most late Saturday afternoons, Jeremy Sheffield sat in The Corner Saloon, involved in a game of poker. Like many of the other men, he’d come after the half day of work. Monday through Friday were full days spent laboring in the dark, cold bowels of the earth, but Saturday was a half day. He’d washed up, but there were still smudges of coal on his neck and hands. It was imbedded under his fingernails.

Carly Jo left her room on the second floor, ready to begin her own work, and sauntered to the balcony to survey the room below. There were new faces, some with the look of prosperity about them, probably due to Gregory Howerton, who had some horse-trading shindig going on. The man had the Midas touch. His horse breeding business was as successful as his mines and his ranch. He had prize cattle, prize stallions, prize looks, and a prize wife who was a doctor, as strange as that was. Some people were just born to win.

Below, Donnie was playing the piano in his customary attire—a striped shirt, red vest, and a bowler hat. Bart Gunderson had his hand up Dora’s skirt. For some reason, Bart liked to feel a girl up before going back to a room. New men in town were always flabbergasted by the spectacle, but it got them hot and bothered, which ultimately netted more business.

Carly’s gaze fell on Jeremy Sheffield playing cards with a couple regulars and some dandy she didn’t recognize. Jeremy, everyone called him Shef, was expressionless, not conversing, not the least little bit interested in being sociable. That was typical, too. He was a fine-looking man, except he had the pallor of a coal miner. Six feet two, maybe six three, brown hair and fine features. But he was as lifeless as any man she’d ever known, like someone or something had sucked the life right out of him. He hadn’t been that way when he was younger.

Carly remembered his sister, Jenny Lynn. Now, she’d been a beauty, the kind you want to hate because fate had given her the world’s most perfect face and long, shiny dark hair. Unfortunately, Jenny had also been sweet as sugar, so you couldn’t hate her. Life was not fair. Then again, Jenny had drowned when she was only sixteen. That should have evened things up, but in a way it didn’t, because Jenny Lynn Sheffield had never gotten old or cranky or fat or wrinkled. She stayed beautiful in the minds of all those who remembered her.

It was obvious which men in the room were ranchers and which were miners. The miners were pale, but it was more than that. They moved slower and more deliberately. Ranchers were more expressive and more full of life. Miners were quiet and almost wary. Too much time spent in the dark, she guessed. Maybe that was what had so destroyed Shef’s vigor. That and the deaths of his family, one by one.

As if he could sense her gaze, Shef looked up at her. She gave him a seductive smile, but he looked away without a flicker of recognition or feeling. Yes indeed. It was as if someone had sucked the life right out of him.

The dandy, a man named Chaz Morrison, dealt. “Seven card stud,” he announced glibly. He’d won four of the last five hands and was feeling fine. Jeremy watched the man’s hands closely. Morrison, with his stiffly starched shirt, fancy cravat, and smooth talking, had the feel of a cardsharp and, if he was, Jeremy was determined to discover it. Look hard enough and you’ll see it. Not only that, but you’ll see how to beat it.

The next hour saw a marked change in Morrison’s demeanor as he lost hand after hand. He wasn’t accustomed to losing, so he didn’t know when to quit. “Seems I’m a little short,” he finally admitted to Jeremy, who was now owed nearly fifty dollars.

Ollie White, sitting next to Morrison, looked up sharply. “Mister,” he said. “Around here, a little short means a beating. And not a little one, either.”

“I have the money back in my room,” Morrison said nervously. “I’ll just go get it and—”

“In the meantime,” Jeremy said, “you can leave that fancy gold pocket watch as collateral.”

“And that silver snuff box, too,” Ollie suggested.

Morrison looked aghast. “I’m only staying at that boarding house on Second Street. I’ll go and be back in—”

“Either leave it,” Jeremy said, “or we’ll go with you to get your money.”

The man huffed at the implied insult. “Fine,” he said, pushing back in his chair. Jeremy did likewise.

The suitcase Pauline carried was awkward, the handles uncomfortable in her hand. It was because she’d crammed so many of their possessions into it. Everything that would fit. She held it in one hand and held Jake’s hand in the other as they walked from the train station. Rebecca stayed close. The good news was, they’d arrived. Thirty-three dollars and change was all she had to her name, but they’d reached their final destination. Of course, the only reason it was their final destination was that she hadn’t the funds to go farther.

She’d made up her mind to have faith and be optimistic, but as the sun began dipping in the western sky, a feeling of dull panic took hold. Pressure filled her chest and a sharp ache tormented her temples.

“Where are we going?” Rebecca asked worriedly.

“We’ll find a place to stay,” Pauline replied as calmly as she could. She noticed an elderly gentleman walking toward them. “Excuse me, sir,” she said. “Do you know of a boarding house nearby?”

“Yes, ma’am. Mrs. Sherrill’s place isn’t even three blocks that way. It’s a white clapboard place with green shutters. It’s a good place run by her and her daughter.”

“Thank you.”

He tipped his hat and they walked on. The boarding house wasn’t hard to find. It was just as described, the front porch filled with rocking chairs, most of which were occupied by people busily fanning themselves in the relentless summer heat. Pauline let go of Jake’s hand to lift her skirt to walk up the steps; her son frowned accusingly, but she only had two hands. Two hands and thirty-three dollars.

They stepped inside as an auburn-haired woman walked into the foyer with a red-haired boy of perhaps two on her hip. “Hello there,” the woman said pleasantly.

“Good evening,” Pauline replied, setting down the suitcase and flexing her hand. “Do you have a room?”

The woman looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, but we shore don’t.” She cocked her hip and adjusted the boy to be more comfortable. “Normally we do, but Mr. Howerton’s got some horse show going on and it’s brought all sorts of folks to town.”

Pauline felt like crying, but she wouldn’t. It was only fatigue talking and she had to remain strong.

“I hear the hotel’s full, too,” the woman continued. “I’m Fiona, by the way. Fiona Jones. My mama’s the proprietor, although you wouldn’t know it to see her back in the kitchen right now. Are y’all just passing through?”

“No, I hope. I . . . hope to find work,” Pauline stammered. Will not cry. Will not cry.

“Oh? Well, I guess there’s more and more work all the time.” She glanced at the children and flashed a warm smile. “What you might want to do for tonight is go find the Blue place. Sisters, name of Blue, that is,” she added because of the expression on Pauline’s face. “They put up folks sometimes, although hardly nobody knows it. They’ll find room for you, and they’re sweet as can be.”

Pauline felt such relief, she deflated.

“All you do is go back aways,” she said, gesturing with her thumb. “Three, four streets to Crooked Tree Road.” Fiona broke off with a thoughtful expression. “Come to think of it, I don’t know that there’s a sign there anymore, but there’s a big ol’ crooked tree. You can’t miss it. Then, after about a half mile, you’ll see a long fence in both directions. Turn right and you’ll see their place in no time.”

Pauline nodded and picked up the suitcase again. “Thank you.”

“I wish I could offer y’all some supper, but our guests have cleaned us out. Not sure we’re going to be able to feed everyone we got.”

Pauline tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “That’s all right,” she said thickly. “Thank you.”

“There is Wiley’s in town. That’s a restaurant, but you’ll be going the other way if you head to the Blues’.”

Pauline flashed a weak smile and turned for the door. Tears were much too close at hand and she needed to keep moving.

“Bye, now,” Fiona called.

“Bye,” Rebecca said with a wave.

Fiona waved back and shifted RJ to the other hip as the trio left. She felt bad that she couldn’t accommodate them. She hadn’t seen a woman looking so lost and desperate since Emeline Wright, now Emeline Wright Medlin had returned to town a few years back. A clamor of pots came from the kitchen and Fiona rolled her eyes. “Let’s go help Granny,” she said dolefully to her son. “Before she has another hissy fit.”

Jeremy followed Morrison to the front steps of the boarding house, but hesitated when a pretty lady stepped out the door with two children in her wake. He nearly reached out and offered his hand to assist her down the two steps, but she’d deftly lifted her skirt and still managed to take hold of the boy’s hand. As she passed by, he noticed her anxiety. Then he registered the look of fear on the boy’s face and the expression of worry and distrust on the girl’s. “Ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat to her.

She glanced at him with a slight nod of acknowledgment.

Once they’d passed, he realized Morrison had gone inside. He followed, but Morrison was already gone from the lobby. Jeremy hurried to the hall in time to see the man ducking into a room at the far end. Morrison shut the door behind him and Jeremy heard it lock. He quickly followed and knocked.

“Just a minute,” Morrison called from inside, but then came the telltale sound of a window screeching open, meaning the son of a bitch was sneaking out the window. Jeremy considered busting the door open, but he wasn’t sure the snake could pay for the damage, and he wasn’t about to, so he rushed back outside, rounded the house and went in pursuit. Morrison was running away with his hat shoved down on his head and a soft-sided bag clutched in his hand. Morrison glanced behind, saw Jeremy gaining on him, then promptly tripped and went flying. Within a few seconds, Jeremy stood over him. The man had flipped onto his back with his hands in a pathetic, defensive position. “You got the money you owe me?” Jeremy demanded.

“I . . . I’m good for it, I swear,” the man exclaimed.

“You’re a funny one, mister,” Jeremy warned.

“It’s true! I have plenty of money at a bank in Roanoke. I swear it. You could go with me to get it.”

“Hand over the watch and the box.”

The man shook his head vigorously. “I can’t. No. They have great sentimental value.”

“Not to me.”

“Be reasonable!”

“Reasonable? You’re a damn cheat and a liar.”

“I’m not lying about the money. It’s in a safe deposit box at the City Bank on Third. I swear it. On my life.”

“Then go get it and I’ll trade your trinkets back for the money.”

“They’re not trinkets,” the man objected. “I’ll leave something else. I’ll leave the watch, but not the snuff box.”

“You’ll leave them both or we’ll walk over to the sheriff’s office and you can explain it to him.”

Grudgingly, Morrison removed the watch from his vest. “I only owe you forty-six dollars,” he complained as he handed it over.

“Yeah. Only that. Doesn’t seem worth a man’s integrity, does it? Although some men’s is worth less than others.” He held out his hand. “The box.”

“Just give me a moment,” the man said, hovering over the small silver box. “It may seem silly,” he said as he fumbled in an attempt to open the lid.

Out of patience, Jeremy reached down and snatched it from him.

“No, wait,” the man cried, trying to grab it back.

“Bring me back the money you owe me and you can have it back. I’ll give you three days before I pawn it.”

“Fine. I will be back within three days. Just don’t pawn it. Please!”

Jeremy gave him a look of disgust and started off. After several paces, he glanced behind to make sure the man wasn’t drawing on him. He wasn’t. In fact, he hadn’t even gotten up off the ground. Jeremy was halfway back to the saloon when Morrison’s last action struck him as odd. He shook the box and there was a dull clanking sound. He stopped and opened the snuff box and dumped the snuff out. Besides snuff, two keys fell on the ground. He squatted and retrieved them, knowing that they were what Morrison had wanted. Each flat key was two inches long and had a number on it. He studied them a moment, then rose, shoved all the items into his pocket, and walked on.

As Pauline and the children trudged down what they hoped was Crooked Tree Road, Pauline felt her defenses falter. It was a narrow road, wooded on one side, an empty field on the other. They might well be headed down the wrong road, and even if it was the right road, there might not be a place for them at the end of it. They were hungry; her children were hungry, and it wrenched her heart.

“Don’t worry,” Rebecca said soothingly, reaching up to pat her back.

The gesture was too much, and Pauline stopped short and burst into tears.

“Oh, Mama, everything will be all right,” Rebecca said, stepping in front of her.

“And even if it ain’t, it cain’t be all that bad,” a woman said. They all turned and looked at an older woman wearing men’s trousers and a wide-brimmed hat walking from the woods. She carried a string with dead rabbits on it, and a large, golden-haired dog was by her side. The woman put the string over her shoulder and the carcasses hung one in front of her and two in back. “You lost?”

Rebecca looked from the woman to her dog to her mother, who was working hard to collect herself. “I think we might be,” she volunteered.

The woman gave her a cockeyed smile. “What’s your name?”

“Rebecca.”

“And yours?” the woman asked, looking at Jake.

“He’s Jake,” Rebecca supplied.

The woman pursed her lips. “And the pretty lady sobbing her heart out smack dab in the middle of our property?”

“That’s my mother,” Rebecca replied defensively.

“P-Pauline. And I’m s-sorry we’re t-trespassing.”

“I said you were on my property. I didn’t say you were trespassing. Where is it you’re headed?”

Pauline took a shuddering breath and set her suitcase down in order to wipe her face and hopefully recover some sort of composure.

“Goodness’ sakes, Pauline,” the woman said. “Whatever it is, it’s likely not as awful as you’re making it to be. You wanted by the law?”

Pauline shook her head. She touched her throat, unable to speak.

“You got an angry mob after you?”

Rebecca realized the woman was trying to help and that, little by little, it was working.

Pauline fumbled in her pocket for a handkerchief and wiped her nose. “We were looking for the Blues’ place. H-hoping for a r-room. Fiona from the b-boarding house sent us . . . since they were f-full.”

“Well, then, what luck. I’m April May Blue,” the woman announced.

“Your name is April May?” Rebecca blurted.

“Shore is. And my mama thought it was the loveliest name ever given to a girl child, although she did come up with some fanciful ones.”

“Like what?” Rebecca asked.

Pauline was torn between telling Rebecca not to be impertinent and being struck by the ease of conversation between them. She also needed the moments to compose herself.

“Lita Flame for one,” April May said. “Mama said it come to her when she was watching my papa start a fire while she was expecting.”

“Light a flame?”

“Spelled L-I-T-A. Then I had a brother named Hunter and one named Sterling. I guess those aren’t too funny. Scarlet Poppy was a pretty good one, and then the baby got named Princess, though we call her Cessie. Don’t know why my papa didn’t up and tell Mama to name us something normal.”

“Maybe he liked the names, too,” Rebecca suggested.

“It’s a good point, Rebecca.”

“Does your dog bite?”

“Who, Sheeba, here? Naw. She’s gentle as a kitten. Now, we got another dog, Wags, little mop of a thing no bigger than a minute, and she bosses poor Sheeba around something awful, but she don’t bite either. I keep telling Sheeba to stand up to her, but—” The older woman shrugged and then looked at Pauline. “Why don’t we head on up to the house? It’s just round the bend.”

Pauline nodded gratefully and bent for her suitcase.

“Here,” April May said, stepping forward to take it. “Let me have it.”

“Oh no,” Pauline objected.

“Oh yes,” April May insisted, taking it from her. “You’re not one of those stubborn kinds that won’t let anybody help them, are you?” Pauline nearly lost her frail grip on her self-control, and April May saw it. “I shore hope not,” she said, walking on.

Rebecca did a double step to catch up with her, looking at her curiously, and the dog trooped along, paying no mind to them.

“So what brings you folks to our neck of the woods?” April May asked.

Rebecca . . .