Land of My Heart
LAND
of my
HEART
Land of My Heart
Copyright © 2004
Tracie Peterson
Cover design by Andrea Gjeldum
Unless otherwise identified, Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN 978-0-7642-2769-1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Peterson, Tracie.
Land of my heart / by Tracie Peterson.
p. cm. — (Heirs of Montana)
ISBN 0-7642-2769-6 (pbk.)
1. Women pioneers—Fiction. 2. Ranch life—Fiction. 3. Montana—Fiction. I. Title. II. Series: Peterson, Tracie. Heirs of Montana.
PS3566.E7717L36 2004
813'.54—dc22 | 2003022919 |
Contents
To John and Kay Peterson
with thanks for your love
and for answering my
questions about steamboats
To Mike Parker
with thanks for answering
all my questions about ranching
the “old-fashioned way”
Books by Tracie Peterson
A Slender Thread
•
What She Left for Me
Where My Heart Belongs
S
ONG OF
A
LASKA
Dawn’s Prelude
•
Morning’s Refrain
A
LASKAN
Q
UEST
Summer of the Midnight Sun
Under the Northern Lights
•
Whispers of Winter
Alaskan Quest
(3 in 1)
B
RIDES OF
G
ALLATIN
C
OUNTY
A Promise to Believe In
•
A Love to Last Forever
A Dream to Call My Own
T
HE
B
ROADMOOR
L
EGACY
*
A Daughter’s Inheritance
•
An Unexpected Love
A Surrendered Heart
B
ELLS OF
L
OWELL
*
Daughter of the Loom
•
A Fragile Design
•
These Tangled Threads
Bells of Lowell
(3 in 1)
L
IGHTS OF
L
OWELL
*
A Tapestry of Hope
•
A Love Woven True
•
The Pattern of Her Heart
D
ESERT
R
OSES
Shadows of the Canyon
•
Across the Years
•
Beneath a Harvest Sky
H
EIRS OF
M
ONTANA
Land of My Heart
•
The Coming Storm
To Dream Anew
•
The Hope Within
L
ADIES OF
L
IBERTY
A Lady of High Regard
•
A Lady of Hidden Intent
A Lady of Secret Devotion
R
IBBONS OF
S
TEEL
**
Distant Dreams
•
A Hope Beyond
W
ESTWARD
C
HRONICLES
A Shelter of Hope
•
Hidden in a Whisper
•
A Veiled Reflection
Y
UKON
Q
UEST
Treasures of the North
•
Ashes and Ice
•
Rivers of Gold
*
with Judith Miller
**
with Judith Pella
TRACIE PETERSON is the author of over seventy novels, both historical and contemporary. Her avid research resonates in her stories, as seen in her bestselling H
EIRS OF
M
ONTANA
and A
LASKAN
Q
UEST
series. Tracie and her family make their home in Montana.
New Madrid, Missouri
March 1864
H
UMID AIR WARMED THE DAY CONSIDERABLY
. D
IANNE
C
HADWICK
pushed back a loose strand of honey-colored hair and sighed, then glanced out the window of the store her father owned, noting heavy black clouds on the horizon.
Hope it’s not a twister coming,
she thought as she stepped behind the counter of the New Madrid Emporium.
At sixteen, Dianne had proven to be her father’s capable right hand when it came to running the store. Her efficiency, along with her genuine concern for their customers, surprised both herself and her father, who eventually agreed she could quit her formal schooling.
Her three older brothers had no interest in the store, which suited Dianne just fine. Her father had tried without luck to mold each of his sons into storekeepers, but they weren’t the type to settle down to such a life. They craved adventure and the wild outdoors. Keeping a store inventory and watching the till did nothing but cause them grief and rebellion.
“Where are your brothers?We’re going to need cash from the bank,” her father announced as he came in from the back room. “I failed to take care of it yesterday.”
“I haven’t seen any of them since they left the breakfast table,” Dianne admitted. “But don’t worry about it. I’ll go to the bank for you.”
“No,” he said, shaking his balding head. “I’d better just go myself.
You know it isn’t safe to have you out there without an escort. This war has ruined life for decent folk. I remember when things were much easier, more genteel. Why, your poor mother cries herself to sleep almost every night, longing for the good old days before the war.”
Dianne nodded, knowing the truth of her father’s words. Her mother wept often these days. Her worries over her boys, now almost old enough to go to war, were enough to keep her to her bed.
Dianne didn’t argue with her father. She knew he’d eventually relent and allow her to go to the bank, for he seldom left the store these days. With his family living just above the Emporium, Ephraim Chadwick felt it his duty to stay close at hand. The increasing hostility he dealt with from his Southern-sympathizing neighbors, who failed to understand why he’d taken up trading with the Union soldiers who occupied New Madrid, made him even more tense.
Dianne failed to understand the fuss in any case. Business was business and the war was an infringement upon it. And she couldn’t honestly say that she favored one side or the other. Her mother had been raised in a well-to-do Southern family, so naturally her loyalties lay with the South. But Dianne’s father had strong ties with the North, and being a businessman, he tended to do whatever best served his livelihood.
She watched as her father fussed with several bolts of cloth before finally heading to the back room. He emerged through the curtain pulling on his coat, grumbling all the way.
“I don’t know what good it is to have sons if they’re never around to help with the business.” He marched to the safe and pulled out the bag he always used for their money.
Dianne pretended to sort a box of medicinal remedies while her father stormed about the room. She knew he was only looking out for her best interests, but she felt no reason to fear being on the street. There were more than enough Union soldiers keeping watch over the town. Surely they were trustworthy and honorable enough to keep one young woman from harm.
“Are you sure you haven’t seen the boys?” her father asked in an exasperated tone that told Dianne he was nearly ready to give in.
She wiped her hands on her apron. “Let me go check for you.”
She made her way to the back door and opened it. Peeking out into the alley, she scanned the street for her brothers. Seeing that there wasn’t a single soul stirring, she closed the door and returned to her father. “There’s no sign of them.”
He sighed. “I hate to leave the store. Especially with the state your mother’s in.”
Dianne came to his side and gently touched his arm. “I can go to the bank, Papa. I’ll be just fine. It’s early and most of the riffraff are sleeping off last night. There are soldiers patrolling and they’ll look out for me. Most of them are your friends. They aren’t about to let anything happen to me.”
Ephraim sighed again and looked beyond Dianne to the door. “I suppose it would be all right, just this once.”
Dianne hurried to the bank and conducted her business quickly. Mr. Danssen seemed rather surprised she’d come alone but said nothing. “Give your mother and father my best,” he called as Dianne stepped to the door.
“I will,” she replied, tucking the money bag inside her skirt. She walked at a quick pace back to the store, but her mind was on the sorry state of the town around her. Windows were boarded in several businesses, reminding her of friends who had moved away. Mrs. Simpson’s dress shop had been burned to the ground only three weeks earlier. Her father said it was renegade Confederate soldiers, but Dianne figured it to be local folks. Mrs. Simpson was a Yankee of the most outspoken kind. No doubt there were folks who’d had their fill of her opinions.
As she passed a group of local men, a chorus of vulgar comments and whistles started up.
“Hey, that’s Ephraim Chadwick’s daughter,” one of them called. “Her pa owns the Emporium.”
“Yeah, he cozies up to those Yankees,” another added.
“But her ma’s a real daughter of the South,” a third man threw in. “She ain’t no Yankee lover.”
“And she’s real purty, just like her daughter.”
Dianne tried to ignore their comments, keeping her head bowed and walking as quickly as proper etiquette allowed. But not ten feet from the store’s front door, she found her process brought to an abrupt halt.
“Why don’t you sit a spell and share some company?” a gruff character demanded as he took hold of her arm. “You ain’t no Yankee lover, are ya?”
Dianne looked up to meet the burly man’s gaze. His expression was one of hatred; he smelled strongly of whiskey, sweat, and manure. Apparently not all of the riffraff were still sleeping off the night.
“Excuse me,” she said, trying to gently pull away. “My father is expecting me.” Thunder rumbled in the distance as the storm moved ever closer.
He tightened his hold and grinned, revealing yellow rotting teeth. “And I’m expectin’ some common courtesy. Ain’t gonna hurt you none to show me some respect. That’s the trouble with this war. Since the Yankees come to town, ain’t nobody friendly no more.”
Dianne stared at him hard. She knew many of the citizens of New Madrid. Her father had run the Emporium there for some time and Dianne had recently begun helping behind the counter full time. This scum was not someone she recognized. He had no doubt headed west to avoid getting killed on the battlefield. His boldness surprised her, however. Yankee soldiers were everywhere—protecting and defending New Madrid as a property of the Union. Rumor had it that skirmishes were being fought all over the state. If spotted, these men would no doubt be rounded up and questioned.