I’m preparing a new historical romance, entitled Sweet Liberty, for publication. Therefore, I will be posting chapters over the next few weeks, until my product is ready to go online at Kindle Direct.
Sweet Liberty is about a young woman (Libby Woods) and her younger siblings (Will Nichols and Flossie Woods) who set out to find a new life after the murders of their parents. Shortly into their journey from South Carolina, a trapper (Nathaniel “Nate” Payne) befriends them. To keep them safe, Nate joins the trio on their travels.
The following is the first chapter of my new historical romance. As always, if you have feedback, please feel free to post it in the comments section of this site.
Chapter 1
Coming downstairs, Libby Woods stopped short. Those two gunshots had come from the kitchen—where her father and stepmother were eating! Panic ripped through her. She fled toward the front door. Another shot rang out. Almost simultaneously, it felt as though someone had thrust a fist into her lower back with as much force as he could muster. She took another step then collapsed. Searing pain burned through her body. Knowing that her life was at stake, she struggled to remain conscious while feigning otherwise.
“Fergit ‘er,” a man said. “Let’s git the strong box open.”
“But I don’t think I killed her,” another man replied. “You said no witnesses.”
“She didn’t see us, so it don’t matter if she lives. She ain’t even conscious. Let’s git busy and git the hell outta here before she comes to.”
Libby longed to scream for the men to leave the money, but they would undoubtedly kill her if they knew she was conscious. Somehow she had to save herself.
Dear Lord, help me! The pain was excruciating, so it was easy to remain motionless. She didn’t want to move.
Then she heard the men reload their pistols in another room. A shot exploded, but to Libby, it seemed like it happened in the distance.
Metal hit metal. They’d broken open the lock on the strong box, but she hadn’t recoiled at the sound of the blast. Obviously, her condition was so serious that it prohibited any reaction. While she lay immobile, struggling to remain conscious, concentrating on every sound in case she needed to remember them, the men opened and emptied the box. If only she had the strength to stop them. But even if she did, she wouldn’t do anything. The money didn’t matter. She had to stay alive in case her father and Maria were dead.
Terror flooded through her when she heard the men stop beside her. She wanted to scream, to run away, but she could do nothing—not even open her eyes. Was it because of her fear or her injury? Or was her instinct to stay alive prohibiting it?
“You wanna leave ‘er like this?” one man asked.
“We sure as hell ain’t takin’ ‘er with us,” the other answered. “She’s mighty pretty, but she’d slow us down. Let’s get outta here bafer she comes ‘round.”
The men raced out of the house, slamming the door behind them. Still, Libby couldn’t move. Her mind wanted to identify the pair, but her agonized body refused to cooperate until she heard them ride away on their horses. This was her last chance. If she didn’t move now, she would never know what they looked like.
She had to get to the parlor window for a glimpse of the thieves. Crawling on her knees, Libby held one hand on her stomach in a desperate attempt to restrict the flow of blood where the bullet had exited her body. Her long skirt and petticoats impeded her already laborious movement. No longer able to endure the pain, she gave herself over to the blackness.
***
Flossie Woods raced ahead of her half-brother, William, but she stopped short at the open front door. A moment later, her scream pierced the air. “Willie!”
Without hesitation, Willie Nichols sprinted across the yard. He came to an abrupt halt just behind Flossie and grasped her shoulders as he peered over his younger sister’s head. His eyes widened in disbelief. Libby lay facedown in a pool of her own drying blood. He stared at her in disbelief. Libby wasn’t his blood sister—not even half, like Flossie—but he loved her like she was. And he knew that she felt the same way about him. How could anybody have hurt somebody as sweet as Libby? She was so tiny, so delicate, so beautiful that he simply couldn’t imagine anybody wanting to do anything but protect her.
Gently steering Flossie into the house, he made his way to Libby’s side and dropped to his knees beside her. He pushed her soft, auburn hair from her face and pressed three fingers against her neck. With a heavy sigh, he said, “Thank God. She’s still alive.”
“Who did this, Willie?” Flossie asked frantically. “And why?”
“I dunno, but I’m gonna find out. You stay with Libby. I’ll git some water. Maybe we cin wake her up.”
Will stopped short. What he saw in the kitchen made him feel a little seven-year-old, not the seventeen, six-foot-four young man he was. Leon and Maria Woods lay on the floor. Both had been shot in the head; dried blood and brains had matted their hair. Stepping back, Will choked back the urge to vomit—for his sister’s sake.
“You stay outta the kitchen, Flossie,” Will warned. “Leon and Ma are dead, and it ain’t a pretty sight. I’m gonna go hitch up the team so we cin take Libby to the doc in Charleston. We’ll send the sheriff out here when we see if Libby’ll be all right. I mean it now. Don’t you dare step one foot in that kitchen. Unnerstand?”
With tears streaking her cheeks, she nodded. Will left her with Libby and waited until he reached the barn to empty his stomach. No need to clean it up right away. Libby needed a doctor, and it was up to him to get her to one quickly. Now that Leon was gone, it was his responsibility to protect his sisters.
Working rapidly, he hitched a horse to the wagon and drove it to the front of the house. Then he carried Libby to it while Flossie tagged along in a daze.
His life had changed forever, he realized as he climbed into but buckboard seat. The moment he saw Leon and Maria’s bodies, he had become a man.
***
That evening, Libby awoke in strange surroundings. She had barely opened her eyes and wondered where she was, when a male voice attracted her attention.
Turning her head, she saw a man with bright red hair sitting on a chair beside the bed in which she lay.
“I see you decided to wake up,” he said with a smile.
This man had nearly colorless gray eyes which showed almost no emotion, even though he smiled, revealing slightly yellowed, crooked teeth. Who was this man? Instead of asking, though, she asked, “Where am I?”
“I’m Dr. Hiram Ross, Miss Woods,” he replied as he approached her bed, “and your siblings brought you here to my office.”
“Why?”
“You were shot, Miss Woods,” he explained, “and your parents were murdered.”
The memory of two shots echoed through her mind. A male voice telling somebody that he didn’t need to kill her followed the shots. She didn’t know why those men had spared her when they’d already murdered two other people, but she was glad they had.
Panic swept through her. Had those men hurt Flossie and Willie, too?
“Where are my brother and sister?” she asked in concern.
The doctor moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “They’re eating at the sheriff’s house.”
Libby sighed and grimaced at the pain such a simple act caused. Then she said, “I’m glad. They need their nourishment.”
“They’ll be back for a few minutes before they go to bed. The sheriff’s wife insisted that they stay there until I release you.”
While they chatted, Libby discovered that the young doctor was a charming, intelligent man with a bedside manner that far exceeded the other town doctor’s. He was small, too, about eight inches shorter than Will, with a scholarly expression on his narrow face. And he had the brightest red hair she’d ever seen. But her mild attraction to him soon waned. He spoke little about anything other than himself and medicine.
***
For two weeks, Libby stayed in the doctor’s office. Despite her feeling much better, Ross refused to let her leave, claiming that she could still get an infection. Libby, though, believed it was more because he wanted to be with her.
Other than at night or when he had to go on an emergency call, he rarely left Libby’s side, making her feel very uncomfortable. A good bedside manner was one thing; constantly being with a patient and chatting about little things, was something entirely different.
One day, he told her that they would be married.
“Married?” Libby exclaimed with a laugh. “Why do you think that? We hardly know each other.”
“I know you well enough to know that you’re exactly the type of woman I want for a wife. Why do you think I’ve been spending so much time with you? I’ve gotten everything I wanted—good grades in school, medical school, a thriving practice by the time I was thirty. The only way to approach a marriage is with as much rationale as I solve any other problem I have in my life.”
“There’s only one problem with your theory. You can’t control me, and I have no intention of marrying you.”
“You will,” he said with finality as he left the room. “You won’t risk losing everything, because you need to take care of Will and Flossie.”
Libby hated his words. Not only would she stop him from marrying her, she would stop his overt ogling of her little sister. The man actually acted like he owned her, and she responded in kind. If she accomplished anything, she would get Ross away from Flossie forever.
That night when Flossie and Will arrived to visit, Ross was out of the office. As soon as Libby saw them, she spoke with more enthusiasm than she’d ever felt before. If she could get her siblings to agree with her, she could get out of town without Ross even knowing that’s what she was planning.
“Hello, you two,” she said cheerfully. “I have an idea. Let’s sell the farm to the bank and move.”
Stunned, Will stared at her blankly then asked, “Move to where?”
“I don’t know yet,” Libby said. “I thought we could decide together. We could start by getting a map. I thought maybe we could go up the river—maybe to Charlotte, North Carolina.”
Flossie pouted, her voice carrying a tone of true distress. “Do we have to, Libby?”
The excitement coursing through her diminished somewhat when she heard Flossie’s distressed question. She’d been so sure that both her bother and sister would agree that she hadn’t considered what she would say if either of them objected. “Of course, we don’t have to, but think of the adventure—traveling, a new city. It would be a fresh start.”
“I like the idea!” Will agreed. “Let’s do it, Libby. We cin go tamorra if we wanna.”
Libby smiled at him. “Not so fast, Willie. First, we have to see if Mr. Hooper at the bank will buy the farm so we have money for the trip. And we have to sell most of the furniture. But you do like the idea, don’t you?”
“I sure do! I always hated farmin’. That’s why I didn’t argue about goin’ to school longer than most boys my age.”
Turning her gaze to her sister, Libby asked, “What are your objections, Flossie?”
Flossie hesitated, as though she wanted to say something but was reluctant to do so. Finally, she admitted, “I guess I don’t have any, except Papa wanted us to go to school until the teacher said he couldn’t teach us anything new.”
“You two are the oldest ones there,” Libby countered. “And it’s not because you’re stupid. It’s because our father was so determined that we get a good education. It was hard enough for me to go to school when I was your age, but at least I didn’t stand out like a stalk of corn in a cotton field, like you two do. Besides, this will be an education of a different type. I’m sure we’ll learn all kinds of things on the trail.”
“I like the idea, Libby,” Will said. “Honest. I think we should do it.” He turned to face Flossie. “Let’s do it, Floss. It’ll be fun.”
“It will be a lot of work, Willie,” Libby warned.
“I don’t mind.
“I guess I don’t, either,” Flossie said flatly.
“Are you sure, Flossie? I want this to be a unanimous decision, but I don’t want you to feel forced.”
“I don’t.”
“Terrific,” Libby said. “As soon as you get a map, Willie, chart a route. We’ll leave as soon as I settle everything concerning the farm.”
“All right, Lib. This is excitin’!”
***
Deep in thought, Libby sat on the bed with her knees drawn up under the covers so her feet were on the mattress. While she clutched her legs with her right arm, she rested her left elbow on her left knee and held back her hair. Despite her effort, an auburn lock fell in to her eyes. She pushed it back as a man spoke her name from across the room.
Looking up, she saw Thomas Morgan, a widower of a little over a year, in the doorway. For as long as Libby could remember, his plantation had bordered on the Woods farm. Since he’d married for the first time at forty-three, he had two small children still too young for school.
“Good afternoon, Libby,” Thomas said. “How are you feeling?”
“Too well to be here, thank you,” she replied. “I’m surprised to see you.”
“I know this is a bad time, Libby,” he explained as he strode to the foot of her bed, “but I have a proposition for you. First, I’d like to offer my condolences.”
“Thank you.”
“I don’t think I ever told you how much I appreciated all the help you gave me when Hazel died. Now I want to show you. I want to help you do something with your farm. I said I have a proposition, but it’s actually two. The first one is this: Theresa and Tommy need a mother. Since you need someone to work the farm, I thought we would join forces. We can get married, Libby. Then you’d have someone to work the farm, Willie and Flossie would have a father, and my children would have a mother.”
Although her mind raced with thoughts, Libby said nothing. What an unexpected turn of events. His suggestion hadn’t even entered her thoughts in passing, and she couldn’t force a response to such a ludicrous notion. She could never marry a man she didn’t love and who didn’t love her. She could never be in a marriage which was based on her taking care of a man’s children.
After a brief pause, Thomas continued. “Many marriages take place strictly for convenience, Libby. And that’s exactly what ours would be. If you want, we could even have separate bedrooms.” Still she remained silent, her expression unchanging. “What are you thinking?”
“You said this was your first proposition,” she replied. “Before I answer, I’d like to know your second.”
“That’s fair, and very wise. I’ve been trying to buy your father’s land since before your mother died, but he always had a reason not to sell. Either he enjoyed farming or he wanted his children to grow up there. I hate to be like this, Libby, but he’s not here to work the land now. You, Willie and Flossie are all grown—or nearly grown. If you won’t agree to my first suggestion, maybe you will my second.”
“I see. Which would you prefer?”
“Naturally, I’d prefer the first. I’d like to marry you. I love my children, but I’m old enough to be their grandfather. I can’t manage two children who aren’t even in school yet. I need a wife to do that. Oh, they have Millicent, but she’s just a slave. She can’t raise them properly. I’m too busy running the plantation. But if you won’t accept my proposal, I hope you’ll sell. I can give you everything, Libby—a big house, slaves, fancy clothes, big parties. Everything.”
“I’m sure you could,” she replied, “but that isn’t enough for me.”
“You’re talking about love. I married for love the first time, and it turned into a nightmare. Maybe people shouldn’t marry for love; maybe convenience is a much more suitable reason.”
“I’m sorry, Thomas, but I can’t marry you. I think your second suggestion will be the perfect solution.”
“The perfect solution?” he repeated. “I don’t understand.”
“Flossie, Willie, and I are moving north—if we can sell the farm for a fair price. We’ve only made plans as far as Charlotte, North Carolina, but we’re hoping to go farther. We don’t know where we’ll settle yet.”
“You’re leaving?” he asked in astonishment. “How can you even consider such a thing when the sheriff hasn’t found your parents’ murderers? What if he recovers your money?”
Libby shook her head. “He told me that’s not likely. I never saw the men, and Sheriff Cramer can’t find people no one can identify. He’ll probably never find our money, Thomas. Willie, Flossie, and I have to accept that. Going north will be a new start for us.”
“Are you positive that’s what you want?”
“Yes. I’ll be happy to sell you the land, but marriage is out of the question.”
“If that’s honestly what you want, I’ll give you a good price for the land. We’ve been neighbors for a long time—friends, as well. Since your financial situation is so bad now, I’ll pay you as much as I can for the land.”
“You’re very generous, Thomas, but we both know that isn’t good business. For us to take more than the land is worth would be the same as accepting charity. I’ll take no more than the value of the land as it stands now. Willie’s been taking care of it since Papa’s death, and he says the crops are doing fine. So are the cattle and milk cows. Have your lawyer draw up some papers for the sale, and I’ll agree to whatever is a fair price.”
“All right, Libby,” Thomas reluctantly agreed, “if you’re positive this is what you want.”
Libby straightened her shoulders in a show of pride. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I can’t explain why, but I truly believe that my entire future will change for the better if I leave Charleston.”
“Then I’ll come back with the papers of sale and the money as soon as possible.”
“I appreciate your gesture of generosity, and I’m sorry I couldn’t be your children’s mother. But if I ever marry, which is highly unlikely, it won’t be for convenience.”
***
Two days later Ross announced that he’d been summoned by a local farmer to tend his wife during her difficult labor. While he was gone, Thomas Morgan visited Libby and paid for the farm, most of the livestock, most of the tools, all of the furniture, and whatever food they decided to leave. The only items the siblings kept were linens, kitchen supplies, nonperishable food, two horses, a saddle and bridle, a large wagon, and the harness to hitch a horse to it.
With Will and Flossie waiting outside to leave, Libby wrote a hasty note to Ross. After placing it and some money on the bed, she dressed and joined her siblings to begin their journey.
Three days into the trip, the siblings found a suitable campsite then left to do their respective chores. Libby went off to fetch water while Will hunted for food. Flossie could prepare the fire while she herself found larger branches to use for overnight heat.
Good, Libby thought. Willie found some food. Casually making her way through the bushes at the edge of the river, she stopped short. A man leaning over Flossie reached for a knife in his belt. Flossie’s skirt was above her knees.
Dropping her wooden buckets, Libby screamed to divert his attention. She raced the fifty yards to the clearing, calling for him to stop.
The buckskin-clad stranger bent over Flossie with a knife in his hand.
Libby couldn’t believe this was happening. He was cutting Flossie—with a knife bigger than she’d ever seen outside of a kitchen. How could she stop him from inflicting more wounds when she was so small? Determination like she’d never known engulfed her. She grabbed his shirt, pulling on it with all her strength.
But the man was much larger and stronger. She couldn’t pull him away from her sister. Where was Will when she needed him? This man was killing Flossie, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.