A Windswept Promise Read online

  WHAT OTHERS ARE SAYING

  Brandi creates strong, believable, memorable characters that will touch readers’ hearts.

  —CECELIA DOWDY

  AUTHOR OF CHESAPEAKE WEDDINGS

  (THREE-IN-ONE COLLECTION)

  Brandi Boddie has written a wonderful story of redemption and forgiveness set on the Kansas plains in 1870. . . . Their heartwarming story is sure to delight and the fast-paced plot will keep you guessing.

  —MARGARET BROWNLEY

  NEW YORK TIMES BEST-SELLING AUTHOR OF

  THE ROCKY CREEK SERIES

  Brandi Boddie has woven a story that is full of characters who will grab your attention and keep it until the last page is turned and the last sentence read.

  —MARTHA ROGERS

  AUTHOR OF THE WINDS ACROSS THE PRAIRIES AND

  SEASONS OF THE HEART SERIES

  Brandi Boddie has written a book that is compelling and heart tugging. I didn’t want it to end.

  —MARY CONNEALY

  AUTHOR OF THE KINCAID BRIDES SERIES

  Not afraid to tackle sensitive subjects, Brandi Boddie weaves an intriguing romance around fascinating characters. . . . The more I read, the more caught up in the lives of these brave settlers I became. Truly a rewarding read.

  —DONITA K. PAUL

  BEST-SELLING AUTHOR OF THE DRAGON KEEPERS CHRONICLES

  AND CHRONICLES OF CHIRIL

  Most CHARISMA HOUSE BOOK GROUP products are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchase for sales promotions, premiums, fund-raising, and educational needs. For details, write Charisma House Book Group, 600 Rinehart Road, Lake Mary, Florida 32746, or telephone (407) 333-0600.

  A WINDSWEPT PROMISE by Brandi Boddie

  Published by Realms

  Charisma Media/Charisma House Book Group

  600 Rinehart Road

  Lake Mary, Florida 32746

  www.charismahouse.com

  This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.

  The characters in this book are fictitious unless they are historical figures explicitly named. Otherwise, any resemblance to actual people, whether living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 by Brandi Boddie

  All rights reserved

  Cover design by Bill Johnson

  Design Director: Justin Evans

  Visit the author’s website at www.brandiboddie.com.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data: Boddie, Brandi.

  A windswept promise / by Brandi Boddie. -- First edition.

  pages cm. -- (Brides of assurance ; book 2)

  Summary: “Book two of the Windswept Promise series Pampered town belle Sophie Charlton has always secretly enjoyed the attention of cowboy Dusty Sterling, a hired worker on her family’s farm, even though she’d never tell him so. But can she go against the will of her family, who insist that she make a good match in Assurance’s most eligible bachelor? Series Description In the 1870s Kansas was a place of new beginnings and hope as people from many classes and cultures arrived looking for a fresh start. Brides of Assurance follows the lives of three different women from three very different cultures, in small-town assurance, Kansas as they fall in love, overcome the adversities of prairie life, and make choices that will affect their faith and relationships forever. Torn between the day’s cultural expectations and the plans God has for them, they must rely on their courage, tenacity, and faith to get them through. “-- Provided by publisher.

  ISBN 978-1-62136-281-4 (paperback) -- ISBN 978-1-62136-648-5 (e-book)

  1. Frontier and pioneer life--Fiction. 2. Kansas--Fiction. I. Title. PS3602.O32564W56 2014

  813’.6--dc23

  2014024860

  In memory of my mother, Patricia,

  who taught me to always stand

  strong for what I believe in.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I OWE EVERYTHING FIRST and foremost to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

  Once again, I would like to thank my editor, Lori Vandenbosch, for her continued work in making my manuscript ready for publication.

  The team at Charisma House, for their enthusiasm in introducing the Brides of Assurance series.

  My agent, Kimberly Shumate, for her knowledge and dedication to helping me grow as an author.

  There were so many other people involved during the stages of completing this book, whether that was through the actual writing process or offering advice and words of comfort over Starbucks coffee. I can’t possibly list them all here, but their friendship is invaluable.

  And last, but certainly not least, my readers, who continue to show their support.

  CHAPTER 1

  April 1871, Assurance, Kansas

  S OPHIE, YOUR JAMBALAYA’S burning!”

  As her younger brother David called, Sophie Charlton dashed out of her bedroom and ran down the stairs into the kitchen. A pot gurgled on the step stove, brown bubbles spilling out from under the lid. She grabbed a towel from the table and hoisted the pot by its handles away from the hot surface. Her brother simply stood by the stove and watched.

  “David, why did you let the flame get too hot underneath?” She opened the firebox door and inspected the kindling as it burned to ash.

  “Ma said not to touch the food. It’s for the Founders Day Festival.”

  “It wouldn’t have been for anything if you had let it burn. This is supposed to go into my food basket.”

  “I called you to come downstairs, didn’t I?” He gave her a matter-of-fact look.

  “At the very last moment.” Sophie shut the door to the stove and went to the pot of jambalaya. Stock trickled down into the grooves of the table. Steam rushed out as she lifted the lid.

  “Is it bad?” David craned his neck to see.

  “No, the stock boiled a bit too high but I think it’ll still be alright.” She grabbed a long-handled spoon and
prodded the mixture of sausage, peppers, and tomatoes. “Next time you see it boiling over, take it off the stove. Don’t call me all the way from upstairs.”

  “Well, it’s your dish. I ain’t the one trying to enter some silly town belle contest.”

  “It’s not silly.” Sophie glanced at her freshly laundered and starched yellow-striped dress to make sure no stock had spilled on it. A lady’s garments should always be pristine. “And ‘ain’t’ isn’t a word, David. You’re sixteen years old. How often must I tell you that?”

  “That I’m sixteen years old?”

  “No, that your grammar is—never mind. I don’t have time for this. I have to get ready. Go outside and help Dusty with the wagon.” She left the pot to cool on the table’s surface next to the pie she baked earlier.

  “Dusty’s already done hitchin’ the horses up. See out the window.”

  Sophie viewed the family’s wagon and the team of horses waiting in front of the walkway on the warm April Saturday. The pair of bay geldings stared past the fence at the main road into town, black blinders strapped on their heads. Her father’s hired worker was nowhere to be seen. “Where is Dusty?”

  “Probably getting cleaned up. You should finish dressing too.”

  Stating the obvious. She hated how her brother thought that made him sound clever. “Do not touch that pot. I’ll be back down in a moment.”

  Sophie returned upstairs and passed her parents’ room, where she could hear her mother and father talking as they got ready for the festival. She grinned to hold back a squeal. Finally, she was allowed to compete for the chance to be crowned Assurance’s town belle. Her mother thought she had been too young to compete in prior years, and last year, her family wasn’t in town for the festival at all. This was Sophie’s chance.

  She walked into her bedroom where Linda, her best friend, waited to help with her hair and dress. “Did it burn?”

  “The jambalaya? No, but I hope it’ll still taste good. Men will bid on that basket.”

  Linda rolled her eyes. “Sophie, you know most of those men are coming out to see you. They don’t care if you stick a brick in that basket with a saucer of hay.”

  “But the contestants’ names won’t be on the baskets to let them know which is which.”

  “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Now, what ribbon do you want to lace your bonnet with, the yellow or the light blue?”

  Sophie chose the ribbon in Linda’s left hand. “The blue. We need to hurry. The judging starts in less than two hours.”

  Linda had her hair styled and topped with a bonnet within fifteen minutes. Sophie checked her reflection with the mirror on the vanity table and pinched her cheeks hard until her efforts were rewarded with two pink marks. “I have to pack the food.”

  “It can’t be cool already.” Linda fluffed Sophie’s bangs out from beneath her bonnet with a comb.

  “It’ll just have to cool on the way to town then. Go get in the wagon. Mother and Daddy should already be out there. I’m coming.” Sophie picked up her skirt and ran on the tiptoes of her cream side-button boots.

  She followed mud prints from a pair of larger boots into the kitchen. “Dusty!”

  The cowhand stood over her pot of jambalaya, holding the lid in a dirt-stained hand. Bits of grass fell from his canvas shirt to land dangerously close to the rim. “Howdy, Miss Sophie.”

  “Dustin Sterling, you get your filthy face out of my jambalaya.” She marched up to him and snatched the lid from his hand. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “The smell was real good drifting outside. I just wanted to know what you were makin’.” His Texas drawl remained calm and unhurried as he stood to his full six feet. Sophie gripped the lid tighter. How would it look on top of his head in place of that ever-present tan Stetson? If only she could reach that high.

  “You’re worse than David. I’m making this for the festival. And why aren’t you cleaned up? We have to leave in minutes.”

  “It won’t take long for me to scrub my face and change shirts. Is that food for lunch or supper?”

  “Neither. I’m entering my basket for bid as part of the town belle contest.”

  He looked over her with hazel eyes. “You sure make a pretty picture with that bonnet.”

  “Why, thank you.” The urge to put the lid on his head receded. “Hopefully, the judges will think so too.”

  “Can anyone make a bid on the baskets?”

  Sophie pulled two bowls from the cupboard and a large porcelain jar. “Any man. Every lady in the contest will have a basket, but they will be unmarked. The winner gets the basket to take on a picnic along with the lady who prepared it.”

  “So the winner won’t know who he gets to take on the picnic?”

  “That’s right.” Sophie scooped the still-steaming jambalaya out of the pot and ladled it into the jar, careful not to spill any of it on her dress. Dusty should know she didn’t have time to sit and visit with him. Why did he persist on trying his luck? Cowboys. So brash and overconfident. She sealed the jar with a cork.

  “I just might enter a bid, seein’ as how I know what will be in your basket.”

  She paused. “You wouldn’t.”

  His teeth shone white in his tanned face as he grinned.

  “Dusty, no. It’s my first time entering the contest. Don’t spoil it for me.”

  “How am I spoiling it for you? You should be happy you got at least one guaranteed bid on that—what did you say that rice and sausage was called?”

  “Jambalaya.”

  “Jambalaya,” he repeated in sing-song. “Smells almost like what the Chili Queens sell on the river down in San Antonio.”

  “Hmph.” Sophie hunted for a basket on a lower pantry shelf. The more nondescript a container, the less chance he’d have of distinguishing it from the others. “I’ll have you know this is a Creole recipe passed down in my family, not some street fare to peddle around on a cart. You wouldn’t like it anyway. I made it spicy.”

  “I’m gonna place a bid on that basket, anyhow.”

  She huffed. “Why? Picnic or no picnic, I don’t want you trying to court me. I told you before.”

  His dirt-caked boot heels made dull clicks on the floor as he went through the side entrance of the kitchen that led to the bunkhouse out back. “And I told you before. One day, Miss Sophie. You’ll come around.”

  “Not today or any day that my feet touch the green earth,” she called after him.

  He whistled a tune that carried across the field.

  CHAPTER 2

  S OPHIE DIDN’T MEAN what she said. Dusty had been around her long enough to know when she was mad and when she was just teasing. And today she was nothing but all caught up in trying to win that town belle contest.

  Dusty rode his stallion, Gabe, behind the Charlton wagon as it rolled along the hard-packed dirt road. The bright sun overhead had a mind to burn a hole through his white dress shirt. He shifted in the saddle, hating how his waistcoat felt like a wool blanket around his middle. Too hot a day to be gussied up.

  He loosened two buttons at the bottom. Was this how women fe
lt wearing those corsets? He stole a glance at Sophie in the wagon. She shielded herself from the sun with a frilly white parasol, twirling the handle one way and another. Must be nervous.

  He couldn’t see what she had to be so fraught about entering the town belle contest. She was the prettiest girl in seven county seats and he didn’t need to see them all to know.

  Sophie touched her forehead with a dainty lace-gloved hand. He guessed the heat was starting to get to her.

  “You ladies doing alright?” He spoke to Linda and all three members of the Charlton female line: Sophie, her mother, and eight-year-old Rosemarie. “I have some water if you need a drink.” He hoped Sophie would be the one to respond.

  Mrs. Charlton answered him. “Thank you, Dusty, but we have a jug here on the floorboard.”

  Dusty took a swig of lukewarm water from his canteen as they reached the heart of Assurance, the town square. It served dual purposes today, decorated with banners for both the festival and posters for the upcoming mayoral election in September. The air buzzed with the excited chatter of the townsfolk—newcomers and longstanding citizens—as they made their way to the center of the street where a stage had been set up and arrayed with flowers. Banners hung from shop storefronts. The main sign stood out on the roof of the town hotel like a flag, with several yards of fabric and the words FOUNDERS DAY painted in blue letters.

  “I see Katherine from school.” Rosemarie jabbed her little finger in the direction of the stage front. “I want to go stand beside her. Ouch! Bernard, stop it.”

  The youngest male sibling of the family took to pulling his sister’s hair a second time. “I see Katherine from school,” he mimicked.

  “The contest is about to start.” Sophie rose from her seat in the wagon. “I still have to enter my basket for the bidding.” To Dusty’s amusement, she picked up her basket as though she were going to leap off the wagon with it in one hand, parasol in the other.