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Wolf Creek Homecoming
Penny Richards
ALL ROADS LEAD TO HOMEGabe Gentry used to live entirely in pursuit of carefree pleasure. It cost him his relationship with his brother, and with the one woman who believed in him. Now, with new-found faith, he’s coming home to Wolf Creek, Arkansas, hoping to find redemption and forgiveness, and maybe even a second chance at love.Physician Rachel Stone never thought she’d lay eyes on Gabe again. After their brief time together, Gabe disappeared, leaving Rachel devastated and secretly pregnant with his son. His return stirs up her bitterness…and her attraction. But Gabe’s already burned her once, how can she trust him again, now that her son’s heart is on the line as well?
All Roads Lead to Home
Gabe Gentry used to live entirely in pursuit of carefree pleasure. It cost him his relationship with his brother, and with the one woman who believed in him. Now, with newfound faith, he’s coming home to Wolf Creek, Arkansas, hoping to find redemption and forgiveness, and maybe even a second chance at love.
Physician Rachel Stone never thought she’d lay eyes on Gabe again. After their brief time together, Gabe disappeared, leaving Rachel devastated and secretly pregnant with his son. His return stirs up her bitterness…and her attraction. But Gabe’s already burned her once; how can she trust him again, now that her son’s heart is on the line, as well?
Rachel had almost reached the window when she heard another soft clatter. Someone was throwing gravel.
Grabbing a shawl, she poked her head out the window. Gabe stood with his hands on his hips, his head tipped back, watching to see if she would answer his summons.
“What are you doing here?” she screeched in a loud whisper. She was appalled by his presence yet unaccountably pleased to see him. What a scandal it would be if anyone else saw him!
“I haven’t seen you all day, and I wanted to tell you that I…”
Her breath hung suspended and her heart seemed to stop midbeat.
“…I miss you.”
“Gabe,” she all but groaned. Then, pushing aside a ridiculous rush of pleasure, she summoned her most professional tone. “Go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a heartless woman, Rachel Stone? Where will I see you tomorrow? At the store, or between the times before you hurry off to see a patient? Where’s the romance in that?”
“Romance?”
“Yes, romance. Obviously you’ve never been courted before.”
PENNY RICHARDS
has been writing and selling contemporary romance since 1983. Confronted with burnout, she took several years off to pursue other things she loved, like editing a local oral history project and coauthoring a stage play about a dead man (known fondly as Old Mike) who was found in the city park in 1911, got a double dose of embalming and remained on display until the seventies. Really. She also spent ten years renovating her 1902 Queen Anne home and getting it onto the National Register of Historic Places. At the “big house” she ran and operated Garden Getaways, a bed-and-breakfast and catering business that did everything from receptions, bridal lunches, fancy private dinners and “tastings” to dress-up tea parties (with makeup and all the trimmings) for little girls who liked to pretend to be grand ladies while receiving manners lessons. What fun!
Though she had a wonderful time and hosted people from every walk of life, writing was still in her blood, and her love of all things historical led her to historical fiction, more specifically historical mystery and inspirational romances. She is thrilled to be back writing and, God willing, hopes to continue to do so for many years.
Wolf Creek Homecoming
Penny Richards
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.
—Romans 3:23–24
For LaRee and Sandy—friends, confidantes, mentors, brainstorming partners, critique group and travelin’ buds who listen, help, inspire, set me straight and pick me up, dust me off and tell me I can. Whoever would have thought we’d be here when we met at a writer’s conference almost thirty years ago?
Contents
Prologue (#uead306eb-5505-5eee-afbf-15224f1f08b3)
Chapter One (#u3b0f585f-0ab5-5cf2-9964-9bae1fefe833)
Chapter Two (#u27d6d826-24ec-5888-a381-d3dc6085511c)
Chapter Three (#ueb8c8845-430a-53f4-8bcc-b29811079af8)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
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)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
St. Louis, 1877
“Hey there, Rachel Stone!”
Weighted down with loneliness and bone tired, Rachel was mounting the steps of her boardinghouse when she heard the greeting. The familiar, husky voice stopped her in her tracks and caused her heart to stumble. There was no way it could be who it sounded like, she thought, turning. But it was. Her mouth fell open in surprise.
Gabe Gentry, the handsome, younger Gentry son, was standing there. The same son who, if the rumors could be believed, had asked for his inheritance prior to his father’s death and left their hometown of Wolf Creek two years ago. If the gossipmongers were correct, he was busily running through the funds, chasing every good time he could find.
But Rachel believed that gossip was just bits and pieces of the truth often distorted and exaggerated as the tattletales passed the story around. She had a hard time believing he was as bad as everyone claimed, since her own experiences with him had been good ones.
He was attractive, friendly, fun loving and always pleasant, and she’d liked being around him. Of course, that might be because she had always had a bit of a “thing” for him, even though she was the elder by two years. Guilty or not, his reputation made him the kind of male who inhabited a young woman’s daydreams, and the kind parents prayed would give their daughters a wide berth.
While she was woolgathering, he stopped less than two feet from her and reached out to tap her chin with a gentle finger. Her mouth snapped shut.
“Cat got your tongue?” he asked, favoring her with a mischievous half smile.
Rachel stared into his dark blue eyes, willing steadiness to her trembling voice. “Gabe?” she said at last. “What are you doing here, and how did you find me?” she asked, still trying to come to terms with the fact that the man who had been the subject of too many of her youthful fantasies was standing on her doorstep.
He laughed, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his stylish trousers. “It really is a small world. Would you believe I ran into Buck Hargrove coming out of a restaurant last night? He’s here on some sort of railroad business, and while we were catching up on what’s been going on back home, he mentioned you were here studying to be a doctor. Since I don’t see too many folks from home traveling around the way I do, I thought I’d look you up.” He smiled, a rueful twist of his lips. “Never thought I’d admit it, but I’m a little homesick for Wolf Creek.”
“You could go back for a visit sometime, you know.”
Was it her imagination, or did a shadow cross his attractive face? “Yeah,” he said with a bright smile. “Maybe I’ll do that.”
He seemed uncomfortable for a moment then rallied. “So are you really going to be a doctor?”
“That’s the plan.”
“That’s unbelievable.”
“Why is it unbelievable? I thought everyone knew I wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps.”
“Yeah, but saying something like that and actually doing it... Maybe it’s so incredible because everyone thinks of medicine as a man’s line of work.”
She loved talking about her chosen field but felt strange trying to justify her decision standing in front of her rented rooms. “Would you like to come inside? Mrs. Abernathy usually has lemonade made, and I don’t think she’ll object if we sit in the parlor awhile.”
He looked indecisive for just a second, but then smiled and said, “I’d like that very much.”
Inside, Rachel fetched the beverage and some cookies, and they sat in the shabby parlor. Gabe looked out of place in his fine, tailor-made clothing, sitting among her landlady’s simple, worn furnishings.
Settled in a threadbare armchair, a glass of lemonade in hand, she asked, “Where were we?”
“You were about to tell me the woes of women entering medicine.”
“Oh, yes. The annoying part is the arrogance of the male students and even some of the professors. They make no secret that they think it’s utter folly for a woman to even think of entering their elite ranks.”
Her face took on a pompous expression. “Women are not mentally equipped to grasp the intricacies of the circulatory, lymphatic and muscular systems and they are far too delicate to deal with the sight of blood and innards,” she intoned.
Gabe threw back his head and roared with laughter. “They actually said that?” he asked when he’d regained his composure.
“Among other things.”
“And how are you doing with the blood and guts?”
“Actually very well. I have yet to faint at anything we’ve dealt with in the lab, which not all of them can say.”
“They don’t know you grew up around that sort of thing. I remember that you rescued every injured critter you came across.”
He remembered that? So did she. One time in particular came to mind. She’d been around fourteen and Gabe had helped carry home a dog that Luther Thomerson had beaten with his buggy whip.
“So tell me your plans,” he urged, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. All of his attention was focused on her. “Will you set up practice here in St. Louis?”
“Oh, no! I’d never be happy in a place so big and impersonal. I intend to help my father.”
“And waste your skills on folks who probably can’t pay for them?” he scoffed. “You could make a lot of money in a big city.”
“There’s more to life than money,” she told him, her expression earnest. “Those people need medical attention, too. My father gets a great deal of satisfaction helping those who need it.”
“You can’t live on satisfaction.”
Her passionate gaze sought his. “Perhaps not, but if we put God first, He’ll see to it we have what we need. I know it’s a cliché, but money really can’t buy happiness.” She placed a palm against her chest. “That comes from inside us. From knowing who we are, and what we stand for.”
“You really believe that, don’t you?” he said, his eyes filled with wonder.
“I know it’s true.”
He laughed again. “Well, money may not buy happiness,” he quipped, clearly uncomfortable, “but it certainly does a fine job of mimicking it.” He pulled the gold watch from his pocket. “I should be going. I don’t want to wear out my welcome.”
“Of course.” She stood, clasping her hands together, both sorry and relieved that he was going. As wonderful as it was to see him, he made her very uncomfortable. Rising, he set his glass on a nearby table. She followed him to the door and opened it, realizing that when he left he wouldn’t be back.
They stepped out onto the stoop, and Rachel extended her hand. His fingers curled warmly, excitingly around hers. Urging a smile, she said, “Thank you for stopping by. Like you, I miss seeing people from home.”
“I’ve enjoyed it, too.” He turned to go, but at the top of the steps, he came back, his eyes filled with indecision. “Would you like to have dinner tomorrow evening?”
For a heartbeat, Rachel wasn’t certain she’d heard correctly. She knew she should say no, but for the life of her could not bring to mind a good reason why. It was doubtless that she would see him after tomorrow, and she would at least have one brilliant memory to see her through the lonely months ahead. “I’d love to.”
He looked pleased, relieved. “About seven?”
“Fine.”
Before she realized what he meant to do, he brushed a kiss to her cheek and then ran lightly down the steps. Stunned by the unexpected gesture, she reached up and touched the place with her fingertips, wondering what it would be like to feel his lips touch hers.
Chapter One
Wolf Creek, Arkansas, 1886
Rachel stepped inside the medical office that was situated in the rear of the house she’d shared with her father and son since receiving her medical degree.
The rush of warm air from the fireplace was welcome after a cold drive in from the country. In a capricious mood, Mother Nature had dumped more than a foot of snow the night before, something rare in the southwestern part of the state.
She’d just come from the Gentry farm, where she had given Abby Gentry and her newborn son, Eli, a thorough examination. Baby Eli had been so eager to enter the world, there had been no time for his father to fetch help, forcing Caleb to help birth his son. Thankfully, mother and baby had come through the delivery with flying colors. Father was fine, too, but still a little shaky.
Breathing a weary sigh of satisfaction, Rachel set her medical bag on a nearby table and placed the quilt she’d used for added warmth on the seat of a straight-backed chair. She unwound the scarf from around her head and neck and shrugged out of her coat. Tossing them both over the back of the chair, she headed for the kitchen, where her son, Danny, and her father sat at the table near a rip-roaring fire, playing Chinese checkers.
“How are Abby and the baby?” Edward asked, with a smile of welcome.
“Just dandy,” Rachel assured him as she leaned down to give her son a welcoming hug. She was about to launch into the story of Caleb delivering the baby when a loud pounding came from the direction of her office. She gave a little groan. “I should have known better than to think I could spend the rest of the day baking cookies for Santa.”
“It’s part of the job,” Edward called as she retraced her steps to the office.
Danny, who followed her out of curiosity, pushed aside the lace curtains and peered out the window. “It’s Mr. Teasdale!” he cried, recognizing the peddler’s wagon. He brushed past Rachel to the door.
No doubt Simon was making a final tour of customers before Christmas to make sure they had everything they needed for the holiday. She wondered why he had come to the office entrance instead of the front and stood back while Danny flung open the door. Simon, whose fist was raised for another round of pounding, jumped.
