The Reading Garden - historical9
Important notice: All excerpts have been submitted by the author.
Author: Millie Criswell
HE WAS DESPERATE FOR REVENGE
With a heart of stone, former Texas Ranger Rafe Bodine set out across an
unforgiving land to hunt the outlaw who murdered his family. Tortured by
grief and guilt, he vowed there would be no jail cell for the killer, no
second chances--for he alone would be the judge, jury, and executioner...
SHE OFFERED HIM FORGIVENESS
The last thing Rafe expected to stumble across was Emmaline St. Joseph
stranded in the middle of nowhere with a group of orphans. A beautiful
Eastern heiress, Emmaline was naive concerning the ways of the wilderness,
but her determination to save the children at any cost touched Rafe's
hardened heart. Now, as fierce storms and trigger-happy outlaws threaten
their survival, Rafe must choose between the vendetta consuming his soul and
the high-spirited young woman bringing new joy to his life. And Emmaline must
decide if she has the will--and the strength--to heal a heart-sick man...
Emmaline had never been an overly
religious woman, but she was praying with
all her heart and soul at the moment, and
she had instructed the children to do the
same. They needed a miracle, a savior to
help them, and the only way she knew how
to accomplish that feat was good old
fashioned down-on-your-knees prayer.
Rafe spotted the buckboard as soon as he
rode into the clearing. A group of children
huddled beneath it, all screaming and
chanting in some kind of strange prayer
ritual, and he wondered if he'd happened
across one of those weird religious sects he
was always hearing about--"fanatics,"
Ethan called them.
He rode into their camp, noting the vultures circling overhead and the inert
body
lying beside the drowned campfire. Dismounting, he squatted before the
buckboard to get a better look at what he was up against. Six frightened
children
stared back at him through the veil of rain. The oldest, the one with the
strange
red hair, crossed herself and prayed silently.
"Where're your parents?" he demanded in a voice used to command. "How'd
you get stuck out here in the middle of nowhere all by yourselves, little
lady?"
The two dark haired girls giggled, seeming to find Rafe's questions amusing.
Emmaline's jaw slackened, and she rose up in indignation, knocking her head
against the underbelly of the wagon, and stared at the stranger as if he was
addled.
As if by divine providence, the rain stopped as quickly as it had started,
and the
sun peeked cautiously through the clouds, stealing Emmaline's words, and
making her wonder if the man before her had some kind of heavenly influence
on
his surroundings.
Rafe rose to his feet. "You'd best come on out from beneath that wagon now.
Can't believe anyone would be stupid enough to travel the mountains in a
buckboard. Didn't your parents have a lick of sense about them?" He shook his
head in disgust. "Can't believe--"
Pansy started screaming loud enough to wake the dead and held out her arms to
be picked up. The other children followed suit and began shouting all at
once,
save for Danny, who wore a wary look on his face and remained still.
Emmaline,
too, kept silent, unsure whether or not to trust the unkempt individual
before her.
Rafe stared at the bunch in disbelief, then at the redheaded girl, who
appeared to
be simpleminded, mute, or both. "You'd best tell your brothers and sisters to
shut
up," he said. When there was no response from her he shouted to be heard
above
the din. "Shut up! All of you, shut your mouths and get out from beneath that
wagon on the double."
Maybe it was the harsh tone of his voice, or the fact that he was a rather
large
man, but one by one they quieted and emerged to stand before him. A more
bedraggled looking group he'd yet to meet.
"You," he pointed at Emmaline, "take charge of that baby. She looks half
froze.
Then tell me what happened to your parents."
Emmaline picked up Pansy to quiet her and faced the stranger with a look of
pure
outrage on her face. "Stop shouting, sir. We are not deaf, merely stranded.
And
I'd appreciate it if you would not refer to me as if I were a child. I am
twenty-eight
years old, and I happen to be in charge of this group."
Emmaline and Rafe stared, as if seeing each other for the very first time,
sizing
each other up, neither overly impressed by what they saw.
Rafe clamped his mouth shut, looked into the woman's cocoa-colored eyes, and
saw the maturity there, though her face was youthful for a woman of
twenty-eight,
as was her body. She was as skinny as the young boy standing next to her, no
bosoms to speak of, and that curly red hair, flying every which way about her
head, appeared to be as unruly as her mouth now that she'd finally found her
voice. But she had spunk, he'd give her that.
Some savior, Emmaline thought. The man had a few years on him as evidenced
by the crinkly lines around his eyes and mouth--not laugh lines, she was
sure--and
by the leatheriness of his tanned complexion. He was a good five or six
inches
taller than she, and Emmaline had never been considered a short woman. She
hated the fact that she had to look up to him to speak; it put her at a
definite
disadvantage.
Dressed like many other men she'd seen since coming west, he wore his
clothing,
like his gun, with casual indifference, as if it had always been part of him,
as if he
had better, more important things to think about than his appearance.
In a word, he was virile.
Emmaline shuddered at the thought. She absolutely despised virile, conceited
men who thought a woman's place was at home and in bed--men like her father,
who had treated women as ornaments and helpless creatures, instead of
intelligent helpmates. Though she had loved her father and missed him still,
he
had not been an easy man to live with. His attitude toward women was archaic,
his
principles unbending, and he never had the time nor the inclination to
indulge his
children in pure whimsy or childish things. She and Lucas had been treated
like
adults from the time Emmaline could remember. © 1997
***
*About the author: National bestselling author Millie Criswell didn't start out to be a writer.
Instead, she had aspirations of joining the Rockettes as a toe-tapping
member of their dance troop or tapping her heart away in one of those big,
corny MGM musicals. Of course, she was only ten at the time, had
absolutely no talent as a dancer, and cannot be blamed for her failure to
succeed.
But one profession's loss is another's gain, and this multi-award winning
author has tapped into a very lucrative career as a romance author of
eleven historical romances. Her highly successful "Flowers of the West"
trilogy--WILD HEATHER, SWEET LAUREL and PRIM ROSE--for
Warner Books has catapulted her onto the bestseller list, and she is
dancing on air at the moment. Soon to be released, the "Lawmen" trilogy is
sure to capture the hearts of readers everywhere.
Funny, heartwarming, and sexy, Millie's books have garnered her a huge
and enthusiastic following. Creativity, memorable characterizations, and an
innate storytelling ability are the basis for Ms. Criswell's success. She has
been nominated four times by ROMANTIC TIMES Magazine for their
prestigious Reviewer's Choice Award and is the recipient of the 1993
Reviewer's Choice Award for her May, `93 release, PHANTOM LOVER,
which was chosen Best Historical Romantic Adventure of 1993. She is also
the recipient of the Bookrak Award for Top Selling Romance Author,
Historical 1994, for MAIL-ORDER OUTLAW and Series Romance 1991,
and the ROMANTIC TIMES K.I.S.S. Award, 1993 for PHANTOM
LOVER and 1996 for SWEET LAUREL and PRIM ROSE. She was also
nominated in 1996 by ROMANTIC TIMES for a Career Achievement
Award in the Historical Love and Laughter category.
Millie will see the first book of her new "Lawmen" trilogy, DESPERATE,
released in July of 1997, followed by DANGEROUS in February, 1998 and
DEFIANT in October of that year. All are lead, single title releases.
Millie lives in the historic community of Fredericksburg, Virginia with her
hero/husband of twenty six years, Larry, her best friend and supporter. She
has two grown children. Write to Millie Criswell. Visit Millie Criswell's home page.
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