Lacy's Legacy Read online

  Contents

  Lacy’s Legacy

  Mail-Order Brides

  Message to Readers

  Lacy’s Legacy

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Author’s Note

  Books by this Author

  About the Author

  Lacy’s Legacy

  Westward Home and Hearts

  Mail-Order Brides

  Book 1

  Elaine Manders

  Copyright ©2019, Elaine Manders

  All Rights Reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, other than known historical figures, is purely coincidental. Situations, places, and dates may have been moved around to fit the story. Except for review quotes, this book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the written consent of the author.

  Scripture references are taken from the King James Version (KJV) of the Bible.

  Cover Design: Evelyn Labelle, Carpe Librum Book Design

  Special thanks to Gabrielle Brown (G.S. Carr), P. Creeden, Marie Higgins, Sheila Mast (Marisa Masterson), Lisa Prysock, Linda Shenton Matchett, and Margaret Tanner for their encouragement and contribution to this series.

  May every reader be blessed and the Lord be magnified.

  Message to Readers

  Dear Reader

  Thank you for buying my books, reading them, and supporting Christian fiction—even if you just like a clean romance. Your cards, letters, emails, and reviews lift my spirit and motivates me to write the next book.

  If you would like to join the team to support this series, join our FB group at https://www.facebook.com/groups/300983413953782/

  to get first-hand information about upcoming releases, have input to new books, join our parties for prizes and fun, and meet the authors. Subscribe to my newsletter at https://dl.bookfunnel.com/or10xrsvje, and receive a free novella.

  It’s better to light one small candle than to curse the darkness. I believe the Lord will bless our efforts to improve the culture through literature, even in this small way.

  Be sure to check out all of my books.

  https://www.amazon.com/Elaine-Manders/e/B0116MKKJG/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1524173840&sr=1-2-ent

  Lacy’s Legacy

  Chapter 1

  Montana, 1872

  Lacy Avant got as far as the door and something burst in her. Tears flowed. She scrounged in her pockets for a handkerchief and, coming up empty, let the drops slide down her cheeks. She’d held up well during Dottie’s visit, but her friend’s happy face was more than she could bear.

  Recently returned from her honeymoon trip with her new husband, Dottie had plenty to be happy about. Lacy had buried hers just one month ago.

  Dottie’s face went slack, then she enveloped Lacy in caring arms. “I’m so sorry. Here I’ve been carrying on without realizing how much you must still be hurting.”

  Lacy refused to give in to her friend’s sympathy. She pulled back. Focusing on the practical was the only way to stem the tears. “I don’t know what to do. Gramps can’t keep up with the stock, much less the crops. Jim Laster and your Henry have been wonderful, but they have their own farms and stock to care for.”

  Dottie tugged her back to the settee, and Lacy didn’t object, fearing her legs would buckle at any moment.

  “You’ll have to remarry, Lacy, and soon, even though it’s an indecent time since Mark passed.”

  “Was murdered,” Lacy amended. She wouldn’t let anyone forget that Mark wouldn’t leave her even in death unless someone caused it.

  “The Lord will exact vengeance on his murderer, have no fear of that. In the meantime, Mark would want you to keep this land he worked so hard for, and honey, you can’t do that without a husband.” Dottie wiped the tears from Lacy’s face with the hem of her apron.

  Dottie’s lips wobbled into a smile. “You’re about the strongest woman I know, but it’s not just you. Your grandparents are getting feeble, and you said yourself, Louise is losing her faculties. Bert is going to have to spend more time with her instead of taking care of the stock. Besides, you’ll soon have the little one to consider.”

  Lacy’s hand went automatically to her middle where her and Mark’s legacy of love was straining her dress. “Dottie, it isn’t like I can pluck a new husband out of the air. There aren’t more than a dozen men in this area and all of the decent ones are already married.” Her hand shot out as she saw Dottie’s mouth move. “And don’t suggest a mail-order agency. It took you over a year to find Henry. I don’t have a year before this child comes and only six months to prove up this land.”

  “I got me an idea,” Dottie said. “You know that lady who runs the mail-order bride agency I went to—Mrs. Crenshaw? She’s in Buffalo Run for a few days. I know because she paid Henry and me a visit yesterday. She likes to check up on couples to see how they’re getting along.”

  Lacy hiccupped. “So?”

  “I’ll bet she might have some young man who’s just waiting for a wife. One who would jump at the chance to get a land claim by marriage, especially a claim with only six months before it’s proved up. It wouldn’t hurt to ask her? Mrs. Crenshaw told me she’s found husbands for two women who came out west for a claim on their own.”

  Lacy knew women could file for claims under the Homestead Act, though she couldn’t imagine how a woman could build a house and cultivate enough land to become self-sufficient by herself. Taming this land had taken everything she and Mark had in them the first few years. They’d had to borrow money, and it wasn’t until the third year that the farm yielded any profit at all.

  “I’m not sure I like the idea of a man marrying me for my land.”

  “Perhaps at first, but honey, you’ll be marrying him to get a partner to work the land. I have great faith in Mrs. Crenshaw. She’s so dedicated in making sure the couples she matches are well-suited. Before she accepts a man’s application for a mail-order bride, he has to prove he’s of good moral character and can support a wife, so you don’t have to worry about fortune hunters.”

  A mirthless laugh slipped between Lacy’s lips. “I don’t have a fortune for anyone to hunt.” Still, the nugget of an idea was forming in her mind. “How long will Mrs. Crenshaw be in town?”

  “She’ll have to stay until the next stage, and that won’t be until Thursday. She’s staying at the boardinghouse. I could go with you and introduce you.”

  No, the whole idea was absurd. “How could I marry another man and give him everything Mark worked so hard for?” Not to mention give her heart away when it still belonged to Mark.

  “Would you rather Malcolm Dye take it?”

  It wasn’t an idle question. Dye owned the Double D ranch, a ten-thousand head operation to the east. He’d already run off two nester families since he took over from his father a year ago and taken over their farms. They were all wondering who would be next. She and Mark had a tenuous deal with Dye, but that wouldn’t keep him at bay, especially since Mark was gone.

  She clenched her hands into fists. Dye
would never get this land. “He won’t be satisfied to take my land. He’ll be after yours, and then Jim and Nell’s.”

  “Jim thinks we might be able to get the law to help.”

  “Ha, Dye owns the law.”

  “But Jim says we might be able to get a U. S. Marshal to come in. They’ve put down some of the range wars. It’s against the law for the big ranchers to run farmers out.”

  “That’s another thing, Dottie. How could I expect to find a husband who would come into a war?”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t tell him that right away.”

  “Isn’t that dishonest?”

  “You could tell him you’re having some trouble with neighbors, just don’t mention how dangerous Dye can be.”

  “If I lost another husband to Dye’s henchmen, it would be on my conscience. No, thank you. At least Mark knew what was going on.” Maybe he knew too much.

  Dottie hugged her. “I’ve got to go, honey. Just think about it. Talk to Mrs. Crenshaw, be honest with her if you must. And we’ll pray about it. You never know what God has in store.”

  Chapter 2

  Only a few dozen buildings made up the town of Buffalo Run. Lacy made the trek here once a month for supplies except in the dead of winter when a blizzard was in force. Which was often during their winters. No danger of snow on this warm, sunny day in late summer.

  You couldn’t miss the boardinghouse. It was the largest building, though why, Lacy didn’t know. It was never full. Maybe in its hay day lots of traffic traveled through to get to the mines further west. It did have a good restaurant though, and if money wasn’t tight, she and Mark always ate there before returning home with their supplies.

  Just the thought of Mark brought sobs to her throat. She swallowed them, determined to think of the business at hand. Plenty of time for weeping back home. In her empty bed.

  But if she found a husband, it wouldn’t be empty. That knocked the breath out of her for a moment. She grabbed ahold of the post connecting the hitching rail until her breathing returned to normal.

  She stiffened her back and wrapped Buttercup’s reins around the rail made of a rough-hewn log.

  The lobby was empty except for a bald man propped in a chair against the wall behind his counter, nodding off.

  “Excuse me.”

  The man jumped, almost falling to the floor. “Yes, ma’am. You need a room?”

  She hated to disappoint him. “No, I’m looking for a lady—a Mrs. Crenshaw. Is she in residence?”

  “Indeed. She hasn’t come down since breakfast, but I think she’s leaving on the afternoon stage.”

  “Good, I’m glad I didn’t miss her. Could you ask if she’ll meet me in the dining room?”

  “Certainly, and whom may I say is calling?” The man’s proper speech sounded out of place in Buffalo Run. Malcolm Dye had run off some of the town’s businessmen, too, and brought in his friends from back East.

  “I’m Mrs. Avant. Tell Mrs. Crenshaw I’m a friend of Dottie Mae Chester.”

  Lacy turned and made her way to the empty dining room. She found a corner table and sat with her back to the wall so she could see when the lady approached.

  She didn’t have to wait long.

  Dottie hadn’t described Mrs. Crenshaw and the woman pictured in Lacy’s mind was nothing like the attractive woman gliding toward her. She couldn’t be much over forty, if that. Silver combs held the coils of her dark honey-colored hair.

  Lacy stood and took Mrs. Crenshaw’s elegant hand. “Thank you for seeing me without an appointment.”

  “That’s quite all right. Any friend of Dottie’s is a friend of mine.” Lines formed at the corners of Mrs. Crenshaw’s mouth as she smiled, the only wrinkles visible in her flawless face. Dottie had mentioned the matchmaker was a widow, and Lacy couldn’t help but wonder why this woman who worked so hard to see others happily married couldn’t find a mate for herself.

  The desk clerk followed with a tray. “I bought you ladies some tea, compliments of the house.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Whitson, that’s most kind of you,” Mrs. Crenshaw said as she sat opposite Lacy. Mr. Whitson hovered, and Mrs. Crenshaw glanced his way out of the corner of her eye. “That’s all for now.” His scowl said he didn’t like being dismissed, but he bowed and turned on his heel.

  Yep, he was one of Dye’s spies all right.

  Mrs. Crenshaw poured for both of them.

  “I won’t take up much of your time, Mrs. Crenshaw,” Lacy said, stirring sugar into her tea. “Dottie told me you run an agency to find mail-order brides for settlers.”

  “Are you looking for a husband, Mrs. Avant?”

  “Unfortunately, yes, but I’m not a typical mail-order bride. My husband…he was…he died last month. But maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. You see, Mark and I came out here four years ago and claimed our land under the Homestead Act. We had only seven months left to fill all requirements for us to take ownership. But I’m sure you know the Homestead Act qualifications better than I.” She drew in a fortifying breath. “Dottie told me your late husband was instrumental in getting it passed in Congress.”

  Mrs. Crenshaw inclined her head and took a sip of her tea. “Allow me to extend my deepest sympathies on the passing of your husband, my dear.”

  Lacy fought the tears blurring her vision. She swallowed a long drink and set the cup down with a clatter. “Mark’s grandparents came with us, and they are both quite feeble and dependent on us…on me now. To make matters…more complicated…I’m with child.”

  Mrs. Crenshaw’s hazel eyes lifted in pity. She reached out to touch Lacy’s hand. “You poor dear, I understand perfectly. You stand to lose the land you and your beloved husband worked for.”

  The tears spilled in spite of Lacy’s efforts to keep them at bay. She opened her small reticule to extract a handkerchief. “Pardon me.”

  Mrs. Crenshaw gave her time to get under control. “Your situation is quite unusual. I’m normally approached by men who are seeking a wife, and then I search for a suitable bride. In your case, I would have to search for a man who’d be a suitable match for you.”

  Lacy sniffed. It was too fantastic. She shouldn’t have asked for this interview. “I don’t think I could even…that is, consider another man as my husband.”

  Mrs. Crenshaw held teacup suspended, as if in deep thought. “What do you suggest, Mrs. Avant?”

  Since she’d already wasted this good woman’s and her time, Lacy decided to present her idea. “I understand this is an unusual case, but I’m not ready to remarry. If you could find a man who would agree to come out here and work for me until my land is safe, then we’d decide if marriage would be agreeable to both of us.”

  “He’d work for you? As a farm hand, you mean?” Mrs. Crenshaw asked. “What would you pay for wages?”

  Wages? She hadn’t even considered that. Of course a man would want to be paid for his labor, especially if the job were as dangerous as this one. She searched her brain for an answer, but Mark had handled all the money, and she didn’t even know how much she had to pay.

  She stared at the teapot, unable to meet Mrs. Crenshaw’s friendly gaze. The whole thing was such a stupid idea. “I don’t know if I have anything to pay. I’m sorry I wasted your time, Mrs. Crenshaw.” Chair legs scraped the wooden floor as she started to rise.

  “Wait, my dear.” Mrs. Crenshaw’s words made her drop back onto her seat. “Mrs. Avant, do you believe God works all things for our good?”

  The question was so unexpected, it dried Lacy’s tears. Truthfully, she couldn’t see how Mark’s murder was God’s will, and so far, nothing good had come since Malcolm Dye had moved into the area. “I try to believe God wants what’s best for us.”

  “Indeed He does. I believe God sends everyone to me for a purpose. Now it normally takes months to make a suitable match, but time is of the essence in your case. Do you have a full section?”

  New hope surged, and Lacy tilted her chin. “Yes, a hundred and sixty
acres of prime farmland, a crystal lake and several streams, plus a pretty box canyon.”

  If I could find a young man who’s willing to come work for you with the understanding that at the end of six months or a year—whichever you both decide—you would marry. Or if either of you didn’t agree, you would pay him for his troubles and he’d on his way.”

  Reality set in again and Lacy’s shoulders slumped. “But I may not have the money to pay him even if I saved for six months or a year.”

  “Perhaps you could sell a half section, or a quarter section, whichever is reasonable, to a neighbor—or possibly to the man in question.”

  For the first time, Lacy allowed a smile to break through. “Yes, if he would be satisfied with that arrangement, I would. Perhaps a quarter section for six months labor or a half section for a year. In fact, Gramps and I could manage a half so much easier.”

  Mrs. Crenshaw returned her smile. “I’m leaving today, but I’ll get right on it. I’m certain I could work up some contract that would protect both your interests.”

  Lacy rose, not wanting to keep the good woman from her travel preparations. “Thank you. I’ll be praying you can find someone willing to agree to my unusual circumstances. Don’t bother with the contract. I’ll have the lawyer here write one up.” She had to think the matter over and make sure the contract covered everything, including the unusual jobs this man must agree to. Things she didn’t want to discuss with Mrs. Crenshaw.

  Both Lacy and Mrs. Crenshaw got to their feet, and the matchmaker gave her hand. “Very well. I’ll tell your prospective farmhand or husband he can sign the contract when he arrives. I’ll send you a wire alerting you of his arrival.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Lacy turned away, then realized she’d forgotten the most important qualification for her farmhand or husband. “One other thing, Mrs. Crenshaw. Would you make sure the man you select knows how to use a gun.”