Loving A Forbidden Bride (Historical Western Romance) Read online

  Loving a Forbidden Bride

  A Western Historical Romance

  Cassidy Hanton

  Contents

  A Thank You Gift

  About the book

  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

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  An Unconventional Bride for the Rancher

  About the book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Also by Cassidy Hanton

  About the Author

  A Thank You Gift

  Thanks a lot for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because this is the best way to show me your love.

  As a Thank You gift I have written a full length novel for you called Finding the Broken Cowboy. It’s only available to people who have downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping this link here.

  Again, thank you ever so much for your continuous love and support!

  Cassidy Hanton

  About the book

  In the midst of the storm, they still found each other...

  When her family’s old foe returns to town, Olivia Wagner’s quiet life is shattered. As the vendetta between the Wagners and the Paytons is reignited, the town prepares for yet another war.

  With his parents’ death still heavy on his shoulders, Marc Payton must take care of his sister and family ranch. Danger lurks around every corner, but things change the minute he lays his eyes on the beautiful Olivia Wagner.

  Their love is forbidden, transcending the decades-old feud...

  When a terrible “accident” occurs, Olivia and Marc must set their differences aside and unite forces. Racing against a ticking clock to rescue a helpless family from certain doom, their love will be tested...twice.

  A terrible storm is brewing extremely close to them and they don't even know it.

  Chapter One

  “Come on, Marc, the service is starting!” Clarissa Payton said to her brother as she looked towards the church.

  Marc Payton drew a heavy breath as he tied the reins securely to the post. He stroked his faithful black steed Spirit next, and made one more go at checking the fastenings, although there was no reason to. Clarissa looked kindly at her older brother with an understanding smile on her young face. It was, after all, a momentous occasion, although a rather somber one. Marc was on his way to Sunday church, for the first time since their parents, Anna and John Payton, died.

  The steps towards the church were difficult. He couldn’t shake the image of his parents’ caskets being carried out of the small white church. It still felt surreal. His parents had succumbed to a fever quite suddenly and they deteriorated fast. Marc had been studying in San Francisco when he received the telegram with the news of his parents’ ailing health. He immediately booked the train back to his hometown of Eloy, Arizona, but was too late.

  By the time he arrived, both his parents had died. His younger sister, Clarissa, greeted him at the ranch, tears streaming down her soft cheeks. He held her in his arms as the reality washed over him. His parents were gone… And now, the family cattle farm, the Blue Willow Ranch, was his responsibility.

  As he walked up the church steps, the parishioners stared at him, not too subtly. He noticed William Carter, his father’s old friend, and his wife, Sylvia, smiling kindly at him as he entered. He took off his Stetson, making his dark hair fall over his eyes, and looked around for his sister, who had already taken her seat.

  Clarissa had changed much in the years Marc had been in San Francisco. She had been just a kid when he left, but now she was a young woman. But Marc thought that she was too naive, and she was much too interested in giggling with her girlfriends and writing letters all day long.

  Clarissa was sitting next to her friend, Sarah Carlson. They had been friends since they were little girls; Sarah was the daughter of the church verger, Timothy Carlson. She had inherited her father’s flaming red hair and, unfortunately for her, her father’s looks as well. She had a kind nature and always became very flustered around Marc.

  Marc was very tall and muscular, with piercing green eyes, just like his father. He had, however, his mother's jet black hair, the same as his sister, who was the spitting image of their mother, with pale blue eyes. He was articulate and always seemed to gain the attention of the young women in Eloy. Even here, at church, they would put their heads together and whisper as they took a look at him, giggling softly, their cheeks rosy from blushing.

  He paid them no attention. Marc was in no way an old man, but since he’d been back, he often felt as if he had lived far longer than his years. The recent burden of taking care of the farm, and especially taking care of his sister, was trying. Although he seemed to have the aptitude and mentality required for taking care of a ranch, he just hadn’t imagined doing this so soon.

  He looked ahead toward the altar, and in an instant, he was transported back to a few weeks ago when he’d last been here. The whole town had shown up to the funeral. Even the Wagner brothers, Andy and Frank, had been there.

  The Wagners lived on the neighboring ranch, the Rosewood Ranch. For as long as Marc could remember, there had been bad blood between the two ranches. It had all begun years and years ago when he was just a little boy. Someone had poisoned their well, and Marc’s father was sure the brothers’ father, Roy Wagner, was behind it.

  Marc’s family had lost a lot of cattle, and the Wagners had profited from their loss. Roy Wagner had always vehemently denied the accusations and was absolutely furious that they would even suggest it. This rivalry was known to everyone in town and the decedents had inherited the feud. Marc had cared much more about it when he was a boy. It had seemed logical and the right thing to do — to honor the family feud.

  But now, he could not really bring himself to care too much about it. It was a part of the past. And since both Roy Wagner and his wife were gone now, just like his parents, he didn’t see the benefit of fueling the flames of this fire. Marc had a calm demeanor and was a stoic soul. He definitely had not inherited his father’s wild temperament.

  As he walked down the church aisle to sit next to his sister, the familiar organ music began. Predictably, Sarah’s face became a deep shade of red as she noticed Marc. He chuckled quietly as he looked away from her, to spare her even more embarrassment. He looked up, expecting to see old Graves, the church organist, but saw instead a young, beautiful woman playing.

  A sunbeam streamed through the high window at the ceiling which cast a magical glow around her. Her long blonde hair curled slightly at the ends, framing her trim figure. It appeared as if it was flecked with gold and she looked angelic. Her face had a delicate beauty to it and her brown eyes were the color of chestnuts.

  While she played the piano in total concentration, one could admire her l
ong, delicate fingers flying in a steady and knowing manner that only a virtuoso could possess. She moved her hands gracefully and the congregation followed her and sang the familiar tune in harmony.

  I cannot believe my eyes. Could this angel be the little, awkward Olivia that I’ve known since we were children? I remember her as a timid child, always hiding behind a book, not as this beautiful angel! Could this really be Olivia Wagner?

  * * *

  The pastor was speaking, but Marc barely made out a single word. Olivia’s beauty was so captivating that he felt that only strong forces would be able to make him look away from her. She played the final psalm, and as the service finished, she disappeared from the church like a dream at daybreak. Marc got up, holding onto his hat, and began to shake peoples’ hand.

  “Marc, I’m glad you came, my boy,” William Carter said, patting his shoulder paternally.

  “Me too,” Marc said, his mind still full of the images of Olivia.

  “You look better than the last time I saw you, I must say,” William said honestly.

  “It is as if I’ve been touched by an angel,” Marc said. “Coming here proved more therapeutic than I ever could have imagined.”

  “That’s remarkable,” William said as they walked out of the church together. “I didn’t know you were such a man of the church.”

  “Neither did I,” Marc said thoughtfully. “Roy Wagner’s daughter sure has blossomed into a beautiful young woman,” he added.

  “Oh, Olivia is like a gift sent to us down from heaven,” William said, smiling at his younger companion.

  “She sure is,” Marc replied.

  William’s reply was interrupted by the arrival of Sylvia Carter. “It’s wonderful to see you,” she said smiling warmly at him. “I’ve just been telling your darling sister that you should join us for supper tomorrow.”

  “What a great idea, Sylvia dear!” William exclaimed.

  “Thank you for the kind offer,” Marc said gratefully, “I would very much like that. My sister is many things, but a good cook she is not, unfortunately!”

  William and Sylvia laughed, and Marc looked around for his sister. Since he’d been back, Clarissa had made many attempts to cook for them. But she seemed to have a unique ability to only cook either bland or burnt food — sometimes both. Marc sighed, seeing his sister clutching Sarah’s arm, the two whispering and giggling.

  One of these days I really need to get serious and find a wife. The sooner, the better. I need a partner and Clarissa surely could use a role model. She seems so frivolous and still acts like a young girl. He wondered if Olivia was betrothed to someone…

  Clarissa and Marc made their good-byes and walked back to the carriage. Marc untied the reins and helped his sister step up onto the carriage. Soon they were riding away from the town center, towards the road that led to their ranch.

  They rode in silence. Clarissa looked out to the prairie deep in thought. Marc didn’t blame her, as it had been a painful time for him; he had been plagued by an avalanche of thoughts about the ranch, his parents, and his sister since he returned. But now, he realized his mind felt clearer than it had since he had come back.

  * * *

  As they rode towards the ranch, Seamus O’Leary, their old worker, greeted them. He had worked at the ranch almost all of Marc’s life. He was getting on in years, had bad knees, and his eyesight was rapidly getting worse.

  O’Leary walked towards the carriage, helping Clarissa jump down. He then immediately began unfastening the horses from the carriage.

  “I will start preparin’ dinner,” Clarissa said.

  “Great,” Marc replied, trying to sound sincere for his sister’s sake.

  Clarissa went inside the house, and Marc helped O’Leary, leading the horses into the stable.

  As Marc guided his horse into the stall, he looked up at the roof of the stable. He would need to repair the roof soon, he mused, as he stared through the large hole through it. Right now he could let it be as the weather was still, but the summer was over now.

  There is so still so much that I need to do to make up for the time lost. However will I manage?

  “How was the service?” O’Leary asked, pulling Marc away from his reverie.

  “It’s was… It was good,” Marc said, thinking of Olivia again. “I’m glad I went.”

  “That’s nice,” Seamus replied, coughing but trying to cover it.

  “That cough doesn’t sound too good,” Marc said, concerned.

  “It’s nothing,” Seamus dismissed.

  “Are you sure?” Marc asked as the man coughed again. “I think you should go see Doctor Bourne.”

  “There’s no need,” O’Leary dismissed again. “This is just a head cold, that comes with the change of season, that’s all.”

  “I think I’ll fetch another bale from the loft,” Marc said, noting that the horses would need more hay. He walked towards the wooden ladder that led to the stable loft. He put one foot on the first step and as he put his weight on it the step broke. He fell backward but managed to keep from hitting on the stable floor.

  He sighed, looking at the wood splinters all around him. He bent down to pick them up. As he turned around to get the tools necessary to repair the stair, O’Leary walked towards him, holding plywood and the tool bucket.

  “You go on in now, son,” he said to Marc. “I’ll finish this.”

  “We’ll do it together,” Marc said. He didn’t want Seamus to have to spend his Sunday working on this, as he knew he had been too unwell to go to church, which bothered him more than he would ever tell Marc.

  Seamus nodded his head, and Marc began pulling the remainders of the broken step off the ladder. Seamus handed him the wood and Marc positioned it so it aligned with the other steps. The wood was a different color but would have to do for now. Marc nailed the step to the ladder while Seamus held it tightly in place. In a short while, they had replaced the step. Marc put his weight on it to test it, and it held him. He climbed the rest of the steps, which didn’t break but were fragile.

  He grabbed one of the hay bales and threw it down. He looked around the loft at the remaining hay. Haying season was almost over, and he would need to work hard to have enough for winter.

  Marc climbed down the steps and sighed again as he looked at the mismatched ladder. “I will need to replace the entire ladder soon enough,” Marc said. “And the roof will need fixing soon.”

  “All in good time, all in good time,” O’Leary said calmly.

  “You’re right,” Marc replied.

  Seamus coughed an ugly sounding cough again.

  “I will have Clarissa bring you some tea,” Marc said.

  “Oh, you shouldn’t be bothering with me,” he said.

  “I insist,” Marc said firmly.

  “Well, all right then,” Seamus thanked him.

  I worry that O’Leary is wearing himself out. He cares as much about this ranch as I do, perhaps even more. Maybe finding some hands would make our life easier... Marc thought as he was entering his home. The first thing that greeted him was the smell of burning stew. He sighed and removed his Stetson, hanging it on the hook by the picture of his parents. He gently stroked over his mother’s face and gave the image of his father a small bow of the head.

  As he was entering the kitchen, Marc saw Clarissa sitting at the kitchen table, completely immersed in a letter she was writing. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he peered into the pot on the large stove in the middle of the kitchen. There was the half-burnt concoction of his sister’s making.

  Perhaps this will even taste better a little burnt, he chuckled. Marc loved his sister and was sure that one day she would get the hang of the cooking, but she wasn’t there yet. As he removed the pot from the fire, she finally looked up from her letter, with a comical look of guilt painting her face.

  “I was just…” her voice trailed off.

  “Being distracted?” Marc asked her.

  “Yes?” she replied guiltily
. “Is it ruined?” she asked with a grimace.

  “Nah, it’s fine,” he said grabbing bowls for them. “Will you go now and serve O’Leary some tea? He’s been coughin’ an awful lot.”

  “Of course,” she said, grabbing the letter she had been writing and hurriedly shoving it in her pocket, then got up to prepare the tea.