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Blessing
Deborah Bedford
LADY IN DISGUISE Though the secret behind Uley Kirland’s cap and mining togs is unsuspected in 1880s Tin Cup, Colorado, she longs to shed the clothing of deception…especially when handsome stranger Aaron Brown awakens her woman’s heart.But while Uley dreams of being fitted for a wedding gown, the man she loves is being fitted for a hangman’s noose, and she’s the inadvertent cause of his troubles. The truth will set him free, and Uley will do whatever it takes to save Aaron’s life—even risk her own.
Lady in Disguise
Though the secret behind Uley Kirland’s cap and mining togs is unsuspected in 1880s Tin Cup, Colorado, she longs to shed the clothing of deception…especially when handsome stranger Aaron Brown awakens her heart. But while Uley dreams of being fitted for a wedding gown, the man she loves is being fitted for a hangman’s noose, and she’s the inadvertent cause of his troubles. The truth will set him free, and Uley will do whatever it takes to save Aaron’s life—even risk her own.
Praise for Deborah Bedford
“Blessing is a delightful historical romance
from the pen of the talented Deborah Bedford. Come meet the colorful characters
of Tin Cup, Colorado, and lose yourself
in the sweet love story of Uley and Aaron.
You’ll be glad you did.”
—Bestselling author Robin Lee Hatcher
“Deborah Bedford breathes the breath of life into her characters, giving them the power to
walk right off the page into our hearts.”
—Christy Award-winning author
Hannah Alexander
“You’ll LOVE Deborah Bedford’s Blessing! Wonderful writing, a unique cast of characters
and a lively story altogether emphasize a
deep truth: Man judges on outward appearance,
but God searches the heart.”
—Lyn Cote
DEBORAH BEDFORD
enjoyed a successful career as a mainstream novelist before heeding the call to set aside other priorities in her life and write books that would glorify God. She is now the author of several bestselling titles, including The Penny and Any Minute, which she co-wrote with Joyce Meyer, as well as His Other Wife, A Rose by the Door and Remember Me. Blessing is one of her favorite books because it is one of Bedford’s few historical novels, and is set in Tin Cup, Colorado, a secluded mountain town not far from where her grandparents spent their honeymoon in the late 1920s.
Since working with Joyce Meyer, Bedford has traveled to several areas in Mexico, as well as several squatters’ camps near Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea, to participate in medical missions. She divides her time between her home in Jackson Hole and her position as a multi-trauma nurse in Colorado. She and her husband, Jack, have two children, Jeff and Avery.
Blessing
Deborah Bedford
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Lord, I have heard of your fame;
I stand in awe of your deeds, O Lord.
Renew them in our day, in our time make them known...
The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to go on the heights.
—Habakkuk 3:2–19
To my adventurous, beautiful daughter, Avery.
Tin Cup is the place where I learned that I didn’t have to be in the mountains to be happy, but that wherever I went, the mountains could be inside me.
And now look at you and what you are doing!
You are going to touch young people’s lives in ways you’ve never imagined. I am awestruck by
your spirit, and so proud of you. Mom
Contents
Chapter One (#u04f29de7-5936-593c-ac94-160e332ce524)
Chapter Two (#u8e032d01-6ae2-5ff0-a24e-ee02e8bd1635)
Chapter Three (#uff929ae5-aa58-5578-932b-914cdbf97298)
Chapter Four (#u337b7b9e-abb5-5dbb-a15f-af46f9876152)
Chapter Five (#u1246de64-703c-581b-a673-146951024f09)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Gunnison County, Colorado—1882
“I don’t want this town to be called Virginia City anymore!” Alex Parent hollered, banging his cup on the podium. “Every town this side of the Mississippi is called Virginia City. The confounded postal service is dropping off mail from back home everywhere else but here.”
All 103 people in the audience agreed with him at the top of their lungs.
“You’re right, Parent,” someone bellowed. “There’s a Virginia City in Nevada and another one in Alder Gulch, Montana, and another one...”
“So...we aren’t Virginia City anymore,” Parent hollered at them as he pounded the podium. “Who are we gonna be? We’ve got to discuss this and make a motion and get it down in the town records right.”
For a minute, nobody said anything.
One hand rose in the crowd. The hand belonged to Uley, a youngster who’d come from Ohio four years before to work in the Gold Cup Mine.
“Yep, Uley? What is it, son?”
“I think,” Uley said, in a timid voice that, if anyone had thought about it, sounded a touch too high-pitched for a boy of his age, “we ought to select a name that tells people something about this place. Remember last month, when that fellow from New York got off the stage on Alpine Pass? While the driver stopped to change horses?”
Of course everyone remembered. They’d been talking about it in town for weeks.
“The fellow went to the spring to get a drink,” Uley said, telling the story over again, just in case somebody hadn’t heard it. “But he wouldn’t drink out of that rusty tin cup they keep up there. So, George Willis pulled out his Winchester and shot off that fellow’s derby, then made him drink six cups of water.”
Hollis Andersen took up the story. “And when the newcomer tried to get back on the stage, Willis said, ‘You’re too good to drink out of a cup that was good enough for hundreds of thirsty men. That cup’s been sitting on that rock for five years, and you’re the first skunk to pick it up, refuse to drink out of it and throw it into the bushes. If I ever see you in these parts God made for men—and not your kind—I’ll shoot lower and put a hole in that thick head of yours. Savvy?’”
Everybody in the place started hooting.
Parent banged his cup against the podium again to quiet the roaring crowd. His efforts came too late. People were laughing, clapping each other on the back. “Silence,” Parent shouted. “Silence!”
Silence did not come. Somewhere in the back, somebody bellowed, “It’s got to be Tin Cup! Tin Cup! Tin Cup!”
Every man in the meeting room took up the cry. “Tin Cup! Tin Cup! Tin Cup!”
Parent knew he had to preserve parliamentary procedure. “I move we name this town Tin Cup! Do I hear a second? We have to have a second!”
“I second it!” Uley’s hand lifted above the crowd. “Tin Cup is perfect!”
“All in favor.” Parent did his best to count hands, but that proved impossible. “All against.”
In the end, he found it easier to tabulate the nays and subtract them from the number attending the meeting. It worked out—on paper—as one hundred votes cast in favor and three votes opposed.
And so, this town would change its name. When the paperwork was completed, the officers of Virginia City would sell their rights and seal to the new town for the price of two hundred and fifty dollars. “Tin Cup, Colorado, it is—one hundred to three,” Parent shouted.
Hats flew in celebration. Stetsons. Wool caps. Bowlers. Even a beret or two. Every hat flew except one. Uley’s. Despite the excitement, Uley stood still, hands propped on hips, hat very much in place.
Uley wanted to throw her woolen hat into the air. She wanted to let all her curls underneath tumble out and give away her secret. But she was stuck. Stuck like a pine marten gets stuck when it climbs down somebody’s chimney and ends up in somebody’s wood stove.
“You going up to Frenchy’s?” somebody asked her pa.
Samuel Kirkland glanced at Uley sideways, the way a mule glances when it’s unsure of its footing. “Don’t think so, Amos. Uley and I’ve got to get home. Tomorrow’s going to start early.”
“Aw, Sam,” Amos said. “It’ll start early for everybody. Come on over and keep the celebration going.”
Uley said nothing. A Christian young lady did not enter a place like Frenchy’s, a man’s place, without having her reputation sorely tainted. But what did it matter, anyway? With the deception she was playing on the whole town, she had no right to be counting anyone else’s sins. As long as she and Sam lived in Tin Cup, nobody would know her as a genteel young lady. Things had already gone too far for that.
“Come on, Sam,” Amos urged her pa. “It’ll be hard work in the mines tomorrow. Tonight let’s cut loose.”
Uley could tell by the way he glanced at her again that her pa wanted to go.
“You should come, too, Uley.” Amos clapped her on the back. “They’re gonna start a poker game up there at ten. It’s about time a young fella like you learned to hold his own in a gambling den.”
“No thanks, Amos.”
The raucous crowd funneled through the doorway, then fanned out onto the street, heading toward Frenchy’s, the most popular of the town’s twenty saloons. That was certainly a subject a Christian lady shouldn’t know about, she thought, somewhat grimly, as she watched her pa get swept up in the throng. Gambling dens and saloons.
Uley walked toward the little house where she and her father made their home. The cob-worked cabin on Willow Street suited them much better than the crude shanties most of the miners had pieced together in the hills. She knew her pa had purchased the pretty little place in town because he wanted to do right by her.
“Hey, Uley!” Marshal Harris Olney called out as he passed by. “Why aren’t you over at Frenchy’s with the rest of them?”
She thought before she spoke, and consciously pitched her voice lower. “That’s not a place I enjoy going.”
“Wish everybody else thought that way, too.” Harris shook his head jovially. “I’ll be up all night.”
Uley figured the marshal probably never got a decent night’s rest. People worked hard all day long in the mines, and at night, when you’d think they’d be exhausted and ready to sleep, they came out to carouse in saloons that never closed, celebrating a few nuggets of gold—which were usually gone by sunup. Oh, Father. It seems as if nothing I could ever do would change this place.
As she hurried up the street, Uley heard a slight sound to her left. The sound wasn’t much, just a pebble skipping across the dirt. She glanced up, couldn’t see into the shadows. Something about being here alone this time of night with everybody else down at Frenchy’s made her adrenaline flow.
Just suppose she’d come upon a mountain lion.
Just suppose she’d come upon somebody up to no good.
Just suppose.
