Parker Read online

  Her mother dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. “I’m so sorry we weren’t here sooner, darling. It’s just that … well, I don’t cope very well with things like… well, you know.”

  “Things like what?” asked Hazel.

  “Like that my daughter might not … might …” Her mother’s voice faded and she clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob.

  Hazel embraced her again, and Jen could hear the emotion in her voice. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m just glad you’re here now. Come on in, both of you, take a seat. We just started opening gifts.”

  They both stepped tentatively inside and followed Hazel. Dalton and Hazel gave up their place on the armchair, and Eamon vacated his as well to sit on the floor in front of the loveseat, at Emily’s feet. Jen hurried to the kitchen to fix them each a plate of casserole and a cup of coffee. She carried them back to the den on a tray, setting it on the coffee table in front of them. “It’s good to see you again, Mr. and Mrs. Hildebrand,” she said, giving Hazel’s father a hug and her mother a kiss on the cheek. “I made some breakfast – I hope you’re hungry.”

  They both looked stunned, and Mrs. Hildebrand managed a wobbly smile. “Thank you, Jen.”

  Jen returned to her place on the floor in front of Parker and rested her hand on Harley’s back, petting his soft shiny fur. It was a Christmas miracle – Hazel’s parents were finally here. She knew how much it meant to her friend and it filled her heart with warmth.

  She pulled a small box from beneath the tree and handed it to Parker. It was wrapped haphazardly in Santa-print red paper, and she’d run out of tape at the last moment, so it was folded oddly. She felt her cheeks warm as he turned it over in his hands. She hoped he’d like it, but she’d never been any good at selecting gifts.

  He ripped off the paper and opened the box to find a pair of limited-edition Army Ranger cufflinks. “Wow, thanks!”

  “I wasn’t sure what to get and I saw these. Well, I thought you might … do you like them?”

  He nodded and leaned forward to kiss her. “I love them.”

  She grinned and laid her head against his knee.

  “I got you something as well,” he said. He pulled a gift from beneath the tree and handed it to her.

  She nodded. “Thank you.” It was a small box as well – maybe he’d gotten her cufflinks also. She chuckled to herself as she opened it.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  She winked at him. “Oh, nothing.” But when she pulled off the wrapping, he took it from her and she frowned. “Hey, that’s mine. You can’t take it back once it’s been given.”

  He laughed, but there was an intensity in his gaze that wasn’t usually there. He got up, kneeled in front of her. Then, he opened the box and held it up to her. “Jennifer Barsby, first you were a friend, one who opened my eyes to see that there was still life ahead for me and that I could respect the past without living in it. And now, I love you and can’t imagine my life without you. Will you marry me and make me the most grateful man alive?”

  The rest of the room stilled as everyone watched the exchange.

  Jen covered her open mouth and nodded as her eyes filled with tears. “Yes, I’ll marry you,” she whispered, her throat choked with emotion.

  “What was that?” he quipped, setting a hand behind one ear.

  She laughed. “I’ll marry you!” she cried and threw her arms around his neck, knocking him off balance. They landed in a tangle on the floor as Dalton hooted and Eamon laughed.

  But Jen didn’t care. She kissed Parker beneath the Christmas tree as hot tears poured down her cheeks, kissed him fully and completely, holding nothing back. The kiss was full of promise and hope for a future not yet written. And as his lips returned it, she wished it would last forever.

  THE END

  * * *

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  THE STRONG ONE

  Read on for an excerpt from the first book in a bestselling historical series, The Strong One. Or, buy it here.

  REVIEW

  If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review where you bought it. Reviews help other readers discover my books, which in turn enables me to write another. Thank you! - Vivi Holt

  READING ORDER

  Cowboys & Debutantes - historical

  Della

  Hattie

  Pearl

  Cowboys & Debutantes - contemporary

  Dalton

  Eamon

  Parker

  Excerpt: The Strong One (Cutter’s Creek)

  Chapter One

  Sarah Songan stuck the end of one dirty finger into her mouth and chewed anxiously on the tattered nail. The nail was already so short there was nothing left to bite off. She flicked the finger from her mouth and strained her eyes across to the other side of the camp to watch the group of men gathered around the chief’s wickiup. She shuddered, and returned the finger to her mouth.

  “Sarah!” admonished an older woman sitting with a group of womenfolk beside the embers of a waning fire.

  Sarah knelt next to them and went to work slicing bison meat into thin strips, making sure to leave a nice layer of fat on each piece for added flavor. As she finished each cut, she glanced back at the group, noticing the chief gesturing emphatically to the elders to punctuate some point he was making. She shivered again, considering what they were likely discussing. She knew that she was the topic of conversation, but what were they saying about her?

  The smoke from the fire wafted into Sarah’s eyes, making them smart and blocking her view across the camp. She coughed and shifted around to the side of the fire circle. Behind her, the doorway of the wickiup flapped gently in the breeze, and the feathers hanging near the peak of the structure bent and swayed in time to the soughing of the long, green grasses surrounding the campsite.

  The camp itself was set on one side of a lush valley, and the rolling hills on either side were garnished with yellow buttercups, blue asters, and sweet, pink, wild roses.

  Sarah sighed in contentment, sweeping her gaze across the colorful landscape and feeling the peacefulness of the valley filtering into her soul for just a moment. Then she caught sight once again of the group of elders huddled together discussing her fate and her heart jumped in her chest. What would they decide? The flap over the doorway of Chief Mutaweer’s wickiup opened for a moment, and a flash of brown swept through the doorway and disappeared into the heart of the camp.

  Sarah smiled and bent her head over her work. She thought quickly, then rose to her feet.

  “I need a drink of water,” she said to the upturned faces of the group. Then she turned to run downhill to the nearby creek bed before any of the women could object.

  Reaching the side of the creek, she knelt and scooped a handful of clear, sweet water up to her mouth, savoring its cool refreshment. In a moment the flash of brown was there, giggling and splashing creek water into her eyes.

  “Ky! Stop!” she laughed, falling onto her side against the tall reeds and grasses at the water’s edge.

  Ky sat beside her with a thump and pushed stray strands of her thick, black hair away from her face. It was decorated lavishly with beads and feathers, and her buckskin dress had lines of multi-colored beads sewn into it as well, indicating her status as the chief’s daughter.

  “So?” asked Sarah, her wide, green eyes watching Ky’s face intently.

  “So, they say you’re to be married,” said Ky, her expression becoming serious. She pulled a stalk of grass from the ground and chewed on the end, pensively.

  “Married? To who?”

  “Some white man over at Fort Smith.”

  Sarah threw herself back against the creek bank, her hands over her eyes. Ky lay beside her, squinting up into the bright sky above with one eye closed, the end of the stalk still moving about in her mouth.

  “I don’t want to get married. Especial
ly not to some white soldier I’ve never met. I can’t leave my family to live at that Fort with a bunch of strangers. I don’t want to leave you; you’re my best friend. What am I going to do?”

  Ky wrinkled her nose, and sat up to face Sarah. “They said that you’re too much of a risk to keep here. You’re not really a true Apsáalooke, seeing as how your father was a white man. Your mother always fought to keep you here, and because she was the old chief’s daughter they respected her wishes. But now that she’s dead, they say you can’t stay.”

  Sarah jerked up beside her, her heart pounding in fear. Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened.

  “You look too much like a white woman, and with your green eyes every warrior who sees you, wants you as his bride. They’ve already had to fight several skirmishes with the Sioux and Cheyenne because of you. And if the white man finds out you’re here, they’re worried that he’ll come after you as well.”

  A frown creased Sarah’s forehead, and her lips tightened as she pictured the elders speaking with the chief about her future as though she were no more valuable than horse flesh or buffalo hides.

  “They want to strengthen their alliance with the white soldiers, since the Sioux and Cheyenne are always baying at our door. They say a Crow alliance with the White Man is the only way we can hope to survive. So, they’re going to use you to build that bridge.”

  Sarah had been studying the length of a reed beside her as Ky spoke. Its heavy head bent toward the ground as though it were bowing to the bubbling creek below. She pulled it up from the root, threw it to the ground with a hiss, and stood to her feet, stamping her moccasins in the damp soil.

  “I won’t let them use me like a set of beads or a coat of fur to trade for favors. My destiny isn’t to be a slave for a white soldier. My mother taught me to speak English so that I could one day make my way in the white world if I needed to. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll run away and decide my own fate.”

  Ky’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “Run away? You can’t do that. What will my father say? Where will you go?”

  “I don’t care what he says, and I’m not staying to find out. I’ll leave at dusk. Maybe I’ll be able to get a job in Hardin. They say that town is growing like the prairie grasses in summer. I’ll go there, and make my own way in the world. Only, I do wish I didn’t have to leave you behind.”

  Sarah’s voice softened, and she stepped forward to grab Ky’s hands with her own, holding them tightly as tears formed in her eyes.

  “You’re the only one left on this earth who cares about me.”

  Ky pulled her close, and wrapped her arms about Sarah’s shoulders. She cried softly into Sarah’s wavy brown hair, and sniffled.

  “Then don’t go.”

  “You heard your father, I have to leave – one way or the other. I’d rather do it on my own terms.”

  “I guess that’s true,” began Ky, stepping back and wrinkling her nose, “though maybe I can talk to him.”

  “No, you know him well enough to realize that wouldn’t do a bit of good. In his eyes we’re not nineteen. He still sees us as those five-year-old girls who squeezed onto his lap to hear stories of the ancestors’ battles.”

  “You’re right. He would pretend to listen to what I have to say, and then, when we least expected it, he’d ship you off to Fort Smith without telling me.”

  Sarah nodded in agreement. Her expression dejected, she turned to face the camp, nestled in the clearing in front of them. Winding trails of smoke climbed slowly skyward, the smell of roasting bison meat wafted to them on the breeze, and the cozy wickiups reminded her of nights spent nestled together with her mother with the icy Montana winds whistling overhead.

  “All right, well at least let me help you. And make sure you don’t get caught; they’ll just send you right back here, and then you’ll really be in for it.”

  “I could use your help to get away from the camp without being noticed. Don’t worry though, I don’t plan on getting caught,” said Sarah. Her gaze roamed across the camp where the steady beat of activity carried on as usual in preparation for the evening meal, while Sarah’s world crumbled around her.

  “I can do that.”

  “Thank you. You’re a good friend.” Sarah’s eyes filled once more, and she pushed away the tears with her fist, drawing a deep breath of the fresh, southern Montana air into her lungs.

  “I’ll never forget you Sarah Songan,” whispered Ky, tracing the curve of Sarah’s cheek with her fingers. Her tanned face was splotched with red, and tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “You, too, Ky.”

  Keep Reading…

  Also by Vivi Holt

  Paradise Valley *

  Of Peaks and Prairies

  Winds of Paradise

  * Available in e-book, paperback and audio book

  Cutter’s Creek

  The Strong One

  The Betrothed

  Cherished

  Season of Love

  Captivated

  Beguiled

  Orphan Brides Go West

  Mail Order Bride: Christy

  Mail Order Bride: Ramona

  Mail Order Bride: Katie

  Mail Order Bride: Holly

  Visit my website at www.viviholt.com for an updated list of my books

  About the Author

  Vivi Holt was born in Australia. She grew up in the country, where she spent her youth riding horses at Pony Club, and adventuring through the fields and rivers around the farm. Her father was a builder, turned saddler, and her mother a nurse, who stayed home to raise their four children.

  After graduating from a degree in International Relations, Vivi moved to Atlanta, Georgia to work for a year. It was there that she met her husband, and they were married three years later. She spent seven years living in Atlanta and travelled to various parts of the United States during that time, falling in love with the beauty of that immense country and the American people.

  Vivi also studied for a Bachelor of Information Technology, and worked in the field ever since until becoming a full-time writer in 2016. She now lives in Brisbane, Australia with her husband and three small children. Married to a Baptist pastor, she is very active in her local church.

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  Copyright © 2018 by Vivi Holt

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  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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