On the Wings of a Winter Heart (Miracle Express, #5) Read online

  On the Wings of a Winter Heart

  Miracle Express, Book 5

  Rebecca Lovell

  COPYRIGHT 2019 REBECCA LOVELL

  Cover design by Victoria Miller

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

  For HM, my biggest fan and best cheerleader. One day we’ll meet in person, I swear.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Author Note

  About the Author

  Prologue

  New Mexico, 1878

  “I’m surprised how nice it is today,” Joy Everly said, taking a bite of her sandwich as she stretched out her legs in a somewhat unladylike fashion. Her husband laughed from his place beside her and she raised an eyebrow at him. “Did I say something funny?”

  “I just can’t believe you think this is nice weather,” George replied. He looked into the sky and shook his head. “The sky looks like it’s gonna open up any minute now.”

  It was true that Joy’s opinion of the weather was a little suspect. It certainly was warmer than past years, but it was still the middle of December. The wintry New Mexico air was sharp against Joy’s cheeks and blew the loose strands of her blonde hair around her face. There was no snow on the ground, though, so it hadn’t stopped her from wanting to have a picnic in the field behind their farmhouse. She did agree with George that it looked like it was about to pour down rain, but she wanted to stay out a little longer if she could.

  Her free hand drifted down to her pregnant belly and rubbed absently. There was only a month to go before she would meet her first child, and there would be no time for picnics once it was born. Both she and George were excited to see if the baby would be called Samuel or Samantha but they had no illusions that life was going to be predictable once they were officially parents.

  “We should be getting inside,” George said. “Last thing we need is for you to take sick with the baby due so soon.”

  “Just a little while longer, please?” The smile that Joy gave her husband when she wanted to get her way made an appearance and she could see that it was working. “This will probably be our last picnic for a while and I want to enjoy it.”

  “It doesn’t have to be. There’s no law saying we can’t bring a baby outside. A little fresh air would do you both good, I’m sure.” George started picking up their napkins and plates and putting them back into the basket that had been a wedding gift three years earlier.

  “I just want to be careful.” They’d both known before they married that they wanted a large family, but it had turned out to be difficult for Joy to get pregnant. After a number of disappointments and a pair of heartbreaks, it seemed that this child was going to be the answer to their prayers. George was certain it meant that they’d be able to have the family they both hoped for, but Joy secretly thought she’d consider herself blessed just to have the one. Not that she would stop trying, of course. “I want this baby to be healthy.”

  “She’ll be healthy,” George reassured her, putting a hand on her abdomen. “More than that, she’ll be special. After all, there had to be a reason we waited so long for her.”

  “You’re always so optimistic.” With a smile, Joy leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’m so glad. Without you I might have lost my faith.” George’s arm settled around her shoulders and she closed her eyes as he pulled her close. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you too.” Leaning his head on his wife’s, George sighed. “We can stay out just a little longer if you want. I wanna keep my girls happy.”

  “Why are you so set on believing that the baby is a girl?” Joy laughed and snuggled into George. “Don’t you want a son?”

  “Of course I do,” George said. “Nothing wrong with having a little girl first. I just have a feeling that we’re gonna have a Samantha before we have a Samuel.”

  “Good thing we can call them Sam either way.” There was a rumble of thunder overhead and both Joy and George looked up in time for a fat droplet of rain to hit Joy’s cheek. “Oh dear.”

  “Let’s hurry and pack up so we can get to the house before it starts raining too hard.” George went back to packing up the picnic and Joy helped him, keeping an eye on the sky as she did. Clouds were gathering faster but there had only been the single drop of rain so far, to her relief.

  As they walked back to the house, Joy took a deep breath and sighed. George looked at her curiously and she smiled at him, slipping a hand into the one not holding the handle of their picnic basket. He returned her smile and squeezed her hand.

  “I love the smell of rain,” she said, the brown grass crunching under her feet as she walked. “Ever since I was a little girl it’s made me feel so calm and safe.” Joy yawned. “It also makes me want to take a nap.”

  “When we get back to the house, you can sleep all you like. I’ll clean these dishes up and stick the stew on the stove so it’ll be ready when you wake up.” They’d made the stew together that morning with pot roast left from two nights earlier and vegetables their farmhand had picked for them. After Joy had gotten pregnant, George had insisted she rest as much as possible to make sure the baby stayed healthy. She did as much as she could around the house but the closer she got to her due date the more protective George became.

  “I’m so lucky to have a husband like you,” Joy said. “You’re going to make me lazy with so much care.” Before George could answer, Joy’s eyes fell on a figure getting off a horse in their drive. Even from a distance she knew the black braid and yellow dress of her best friend Clara and grinned.

  “I wonder what Clara’s doing here,” George said. “It’s about to start pouring and she’s riding that horse all the way out for a visit.”

  “We can put it in the barn and she can wait out the storm.” Joy and Clara had been best friends since Clara moved to Mayfly a year or so before Joy’s wedding, and they visited one another at least twice a week. Clara had taken to coming to the farm more often than not since she didn’t want Joy traveling to Mayfly proper when she was so heavily pregnant. “It’s not like she has anyone at home waiting for her.”

  “You’re right, of course. There’ll be plenty of stew for dinner if she has to stay.” George let go of his wife’s hand and went toward the drive. “Wait here and I’ll send her over while I take her horse to the barn with the goats.”

  While George met Clara at the dirt road that served as their drive, Joy took another deep breath of the heavy air. She couldn’t imagine anything better than eating stew with her husband and the closest thing she’d ever had to a sister while the rain bounced off their roof. There would no doubt be a fire crackling in their fireplace too, thanks to George. It would be perfect.

  “Joy, honey!” Clara hurried up to her friend and put her arms around Joy. “I’m so glad I made it out here before the rain. I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”

  “Not at all. We were just going inside. I’m glad to see you.” Both women were wearing thick winter coats but that was whe
re the similarities ended. Clara was a full two inches taller than Joy and her dark eyes and hair were a stark contrast to Joy’s bright hair and light blue eyes. Neither could imagine a better friend and Joy hugged her as tightly as she would her husband. “You came so close to the rain. Is something wrong in town?”

  “The storm came up suddenly while I was on my way,” Clara replied. “Mrs. Newell said it was going to be a bad one this morning but the sky wasn’t any grayer than usual so I thought her knee was playing tricks on her again.”

  “You should know better than to doubt her rheumatism.” Joy could see her husband coming from the barn and smiled. “I’ve only seen one drop so far but it’s getting darker by the second. We should really go in the house.”

  “Clara, you need anything from those saddlebags?” George jogged up to them and jerked his thumb at the barn. “Once it starts coming down, you’re not gonna wanna run back out here for it.”

  “As a matter of fact, there sure is. I’ll run and get it if you want to go inside,” Clara said.

  “I’ll walk over with you,” Joy said with a shake of her head. She looked at George. “Go on in and take the basket to the kitchen. I want to stretch my legs a little bit more before I’m sitting around all afternoon and night again.”

  “Whatever you want,” George said. He leaned over and kissed Joy, then went up the back steps to their farmhouse while the two women headed for the barn.

  “What did you bring?”

  “Just a book I found in my things when I was going through them. I thought since you spend so much time sitting around now that you might like to have it.” They went into the barn and to the stall where Clara’s horse had been settled alongside the stall that held George’s horse, Alabama. Clara dug through her saddlebag and took out a book, which she handed to Joy. “I’ve had it for years.”

  “Frankenstein,” Joy read aloud. “The Modern Prometheus. I’ve never heard of this book. What is it about?”

  “It’s about a doctor who creates a man, then brings him to life but finds he’s a monster. It’s very good, and written by a young woman.” Clara’s eyes were alight as she spoke about the book and Joy turned it over.

  “How frightening! You know I love ghost stories, though, so I’ll probably enjoy it. I’ve never heard of such a book being written by a woman either. Thank you.” Joy was about to hug Clara again when there was a gunshot outside and a shout that was all too familiar. The two women exchanged a glance, then Joy dropped the book and ran for the house with Clara on her heels.

  “Wait, Joy! You shouldn’t be running in your condition!”

  The sky had indeed broken open while Joy was in the barn and as she ran toward the house she was immediately soaked to the skin. Clara was behind her calling for her to slow down but Joy hardly heard her. All she could think about was George and the gunshot. Something terrible had happened and she had to find a way to put it right before it was too late.

  By the time she made it to the house her fingers were so cold they were stiff. She fumbled with the doorknob, unable to close her hand tightly at first. Cursing in a very unladylike manner, Joy flexed her fingers and wrenched the knob to the side, pulling the door open and stepping into the house. A moment later Clara joined her and grabbed her arm.

  “There’s someone here,” she whispered, her fingers digging into Joy’s skin even through her coat. “We should hide before they find us!”

  “Not without George,” Joy said. In the kitchen she could hear rattling and the sounds of metal objects hitting the floor. Shaking with cold and fear, Joy pulled away from Clara and went into the kitchen.

  The scene she found there was even more terrifying than she’d expected. A man wearing a handkerchief tied over the lower half of his face was digging through her pantry, throwing things out in search of hidden valuables. There was a revolver in one hand and he was focused on his search, so he didn’t notice her at first.

  Flour was scattered over the kitchen floor like snow and lying in the middle of it was George. His hands were pressed over what was clearly a gunshot wound to his abdomen and a pool of blood was still spreading around him. To Joy’s horror, his green eyes were wide open and his mouth frozen in a grimace of pain.

  “No!” She fell to her knees beside him, drops of water falling from her hair and nose onto his still form as she bent over him. The burglar turned to see her at last but she hardly saw him as she stroked her husband’s face. “Oh, no, George!”

  “Where’s your money?” The man’s voice was rough and he went over to Joy, grabbing her arm roughly and dragging her onto her feet, ignoring her distress. “Give it to me, missus, or you get the same as him.”

  “Please, stop, you’re hurting me!” Joy struggled in his grasp but he was far stronger than her and his fingers were like a vise around her.

  “Don’t make me say it again!” The burglar shook her and she nodded in defeat. He released her for a moment and she went to the cabinet where her plates were kept. There was a can of coffee on the top shelf and she opened it, took out the two hundred dollars they had been saving for the baby, and gave it to the man who had killed her husband. “This all?”

  “Yes,” Joy said, tears streaming down her face. “Just leave us be.”

  “Gimme that wedding band first,” he snarled. Joy clutched her hand to her chest and shook her head. It was the one thing she wouldn’t give him, though she could see that he’d already taken George’s from his body.

  “No,” Joy said. “I can’t.”

  “I ain’t got a problem takin’ it from you.” The burglar grabbed her hand and pulled her ring off her finger so hard that it burned her skin. Joy scrabbled at his fist, trying to get it back and he jerked away from her then buried the point of his elbow in her swollen belly.

  Stars exploded behind Joy’s eyelids as she cried out in pain and fell to the ground again, clutching her abdomen. She heard the burglar curse, then his footsteps run past her and the front door slam. Pain moved in waves through her body, then focused on her midsection. A sharp pain sliced through her, followed by another. She screamed and Clara came running into the kitchen where Joy had curled inward on herself.

  “Oh my God!” Clara’s eyes moved from Joy to George, then back again. She saw Joy clutching her abdomen and her face paled. “What happened?”

  “He hit me,” Joy managed, just as her womb contracted and wetness flooded out of her. She cried out again and looked up at Clara with horror in her eyes. “The baby! No, it’s too soon!”

  “I can ride for the doctor,” Clara said, grabbing her hand. “If you just hang on I can bring him.” She looked down and gasped. “Joy, there’s no time. You’re bleeding.”

  “I can’t be,” Joy moaned. “No, I can’t lose the baby!”

  “Lay on your back,” Clara ordered. “I’ve only done this once before but it wasn’t hard. It’s early but it might have a chance if we get it out.” She rolled her friend onto her back and pulled back her skirt, then looked under it.

  Joy turned her head, the blood and flour sticky under her cheek, and looked at George. He was gone and she was going to miscarry on the floor beside him. She was going to lose this baby, the last thing she had of her husband. Her body began to shake with sobs and she heard Clara gasp.

  “It’s coming already? This is too fast, there’s something wrong.” Her voice was shaking and Joy felt her cold hands on the insides of her legs. “You’re going to have to push,” she said. “Push as hard as you can and we’ll try to save her.”

  Thoughts of her wedding, laughing with George, the day she’d met him, and their kiss less than an hour earlier flew through her head as Joy bore down with all her might. There was a tearing sensation below her waist and she screamed loudly enough to drown out the thunder that rolled just before she passed out.

  Chapter One

  The wind blew cold through the dried-out grass in the field that wrapped around Joy’s house and she looked out her window at what was left of her crop
s. It made her want to cry but when she heard footsteps coming through the back door she hurried back to the stove and poured pancake batter into the pan on the stove.

  “I’m done, Mommy!” A little girl’s voice came from the hall and Joy turned to see her daughter coming toward the kitchen with a battered pail. Both her hands were wrapped around the handle of the pail and she was grinning. “There was a whole lot of milk today.”

  “That’s good,” Joy said. “Do you think you can get it up to the counter by yourself?” She was pleased to see the girl nod and take the pail to the counter while she flipped the pancake.

  She’d ended up naming the baby Serenity rather than Samantha, even though she knew George would have preferred the latter. Knowing she would have to raise her daughter alone was hard enough, having to do so thinking of her husband every day for the rest of her life broke her heart. It would be like losing him all over again and she couldn’t bear the thought. Serenity was what she had wished for in the days after her birth when she’d prayed for the tiny girl to survive, and it was just as appropriate now.

  Joy didn’t know if she would ever tell Serenity that she’d given birth to her on the floor of the kitchen beside her father’s body. There was no need to burden her with that knowledge. As far as her daughter knew, George had simply passed away when she was a baby. She looked over at Serenity and saw that she was having difficulty getting the full pail onto the counter after all and reached over to help her lift it.

  “I could have done that myself!” Serenity folded her arms over her chest and pouted, turning her head away from her mother.

  “Don’t be in such a hurry to grow up,” Joy said, flipping the last pancake out of the pan and moving it from the fire. “I want you to stay my little baby forever.” She leaned down and put her arms around Serenity, hugging her tightly while kissing her cheek enough to make her daughter giggle. “Go sit down and I’ll bring you some breakfast. You need to warm up before you go back out into the cold.”