Heart of the Morning Star (Break Heart Brides Book 3) Read online

  HEART OF THE MORNING STAR

  BREAK HEART BRIDES BOOK THREE

  Rachel Bird

  BREAK HEART BRIDES

  Never A Lawman

  The Mail Order Bride of Break Heart Bend

  Heart of the Morning Star

  Faith and the Preacher

  Heart of the Morning Star (Break Heart Brides Book 3)

  Published by Beastie Press

  Copyright 2020 Rachel Bird

  Cover design by eyemaidthis

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Are Reserved. With the exception of fair use excerpts for reviews and critical articles, no part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  Table of 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

  Epilogue

  Hours after spinster Naomi Steele marries a wealthy cattle baron, he tells her he’s made a terrible mistake. Preston Morgan offers Naomi a choice: an annulment—or a marriage in name only. Better a rich man’s fake wife than a real burden on her family!

  With her new life filled with luxury and all the modern conveniences, it seems Naomi chose well. But the more she learns about the aloof man she married, the harder it is to protect her heart. Then tragedy forces her to make an impossible sacrifice.

  Naomi and Preston will both have to let go of their pasts if they’re to have any chance of living—and loving—in the present.

  * * *

  Chapter 1

  July 7, 1877

  Naomi Steele dried off quickly and stretched her legs, cramped from bathing in the small round metal tub on the back porch. She tied on her wrapper, then went inside to a strangely quiet kitchen.

  “Hello?”

  The large house on Church Lane was usually as noisy as a birdcage, filled with the five Steele sisters and their eleven-year-old brother.

  Four sisters, Naomi reminded herself. Belle had moved to Nighthawk, a ranch seven miles outside town that belonged to her new husband. At the moment the happy couple were away back East on their honeymoon.

  “Where is everybody?”

  The parlor’s expansive windows offered a view of the Little Church of Break Heart Bend, just down the lane. At the churchyard gate, her youngest sister, Hannah, was passing through with her mentor, Jane Stedman, and their employer, Abigail Vanderhouten. The three carried handfuls of the artificial flowers that had been used as decorations for Belle’s wedding three weeks ago.

  Everybody must be down at the church, getting ready for today’s ceremony.

  What a bag of nails!—as Charity, another of Naomi’s sisters, might say.

  She still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to become a mail-order bride. The scheme had been engineered by Abigail, who had a matchmaking business in addition to her dress shop on Main Street, with enthusiastic help from Mae Tagget and Charlotte Gensch, two other prominent ladies of Break Heart. They couldn’t have done it though without Charity, an eager accomplice who’d conducted the required correspondence in Naomi’s name.

  Charity had even convinced the groom to come to Break Heart to do the deed. After a whirlwind four-day courtship, Naomi was about to join the ranks of married women. And her husband-to-be was amiable, good-looking, and well set.

  She should be deliriously happy.

  But in the silence of the empty house, she could no longer deny the anxiety bubbling deep down inside or ignore the small voice saying this wasn’t right. Doubt buzzed at her like a determined insect in the dark.

  Oh why had Charity butted in, anyway? To be fair, she only wanted Naomi to be happy—but a girl had her pride! Even if she was no longer a girl but a spinster of twenty-five.

  At first, angry and embarrassed, Naomi had flat out refused to go along with the scheme. Then the Break Heart ladies went to work.

  Abigail had pressed her to think of her personal happiness, but Naomi had long since given up all romantic notions. The matchmaker then prevailed upon her sense of duty. Consider your sisters and your brother and what good Mr. Morgan will do them! Only someone terribly wicked and selfish would turn down such a prize fish!

  She pointed out the groom’s many virtues—mostly that he was rich—and the precariousness of Naomi’s own situation—that she was poor and a spinster and an orphan besides. It was impossible she’d be made such a wonderful offer again.

  Gentle Charlotte had put in her two cents:

  I think, if I were a woman of twenty-five, I would like being married to a respectable man like Mr. Morgan. Sheriff Brady has met him, you know, and holds him in the highest regard.

  Nice. But what one man esteems in another isn’t always considered a virtue in a woman’s eyes. Naomi had continued to resist.

  But the arguments percolated in her brain. Belle had already offered her a home at Nighthawk, but to be honest, the thought of being dependent on one of her younger sisters for the rest of her life went across the grain. Belle meant nothing but kindness by the offer, but it had made Naomi feel like such a failure.

  It was a stark truth: she’d spent her youth raising her mother’s children, and now all she was good for was to raise their children. In the blink of an eye, time had passed her by.

  Then Mae came to see her here at Calico Manor, in this parlor, mostly to try to smooth over Naomi’s displeasure with Charity’s interference.

  I’m sure it’s difficult to think of giving up the freedom you’ve enjoyed for so long—especially if the prospective husband might be the sort who can’t abide an independent woman.

  Naomi had scoffed. What freedom? Besides, if she ever did marry, it wouldn’t be for independence. It would be for security.

  On which score Mr. Morgan of Morning Star Ranch undeniably hit the mark.

  She’d softened. The life wouldn’t be much different from what she was used to. She’d recently been governess and housekeeper for Jonathan Overstreet, a Break Heart widower with two children, and she’d cared for her mother’s house and children for ten years before that. Being a wife and stepmother might actually be far more pleasant than being an employee.

  If she liked the man at all personally, the mature thing would be to set aside her overrated pride and agree to the match.

  She told Mae she’d meet Mr. Morgan.

  Chattering on her way out, Mae had remarked, almost as an afterthought, There’s great happiness in living with someone who knows you and accepts you with all your flaws. No better way to really get to know another person than in marriage.

  I miss my Stan terribly. How he loved my pot roast and potatoes! I miss our talks at day’s end when we’d share our victories and defeats, great or small. There’s true spiri
tual comfort in knowing the world contains that one person who is completely on your side, whether the matter at hand is of earth-shattering importance or stupefying pettiness.

  Pot roast and spiritual comfort!

  As it turned out, when Naomi met Mr. Morgan, she liked him immediately. After that, it was only a matter of one thing leading to another—with Charity’s nudging. Mostly she accepted Mr. Morgan because of her general good sense. But also Mae’s offhand remark had caught her fancy and lit a fire in her imagination.

  Knowing the world contains that one person who is completely on your side…

  It was an idea Naomi hadn’t been prepared for, something she’d never considered, that there could be someone in the world who was completely on her side.

  Years ago, she’d set aside all notions of marriage and romantic love. Now Mae had presented a new possibility. Real friendship in a marriage with a kindred spirit. There was no reason she and Mr. Morgan couldn’t, in time, become each other’s kindred spirit, each the one person completely on the other’s side.

  It was time to put the wish to the test.

  She blew out a breath and pushed down the nerves dancing in her stomach. Still in her robe and bare feet, she started upstairs to get dressed. Somehow she’d have to wrestle herself into the confounding contraption of a wedding dress that had been foisted upon her—much like the groom had been.

  Luckily, Mr. Morgan was a pleasant fellow. Over the past few days he’d proved brave, certainly. Thoughtful. Good-looking, if you didn’t mind red hair. Which Naomi did mind, a little—though she would never say so aloud, having a redheaded sister.

  At the landing, she gripped the banister and stared down the hall as again that metaphorical mosquito assaulted her with a sense of doom. Her bedroom door seemed farther away than it should be. Not that she would regret leaving that room or this town, but that nagging fly wouldn’t shoo.

  She felt like she was back on the rapids at Break Heart Bend, trying to steady her raft while she helplessly watched her family being battered and ripped away by forces beyond her control. She didn’t know what to do. Would moving left or right save the others or get them all killed?

  That was her answer. The feeling of uncertainty that had been nagging at her was guilt.

  In all her years doing the sensible, dutiful, expected thing, even when she didn’t particularly care to, she’d always acted alone. The consequences were only hers to bear. But that day on the river, every move she made had affected other people, and the consequences were life and death.

  This was like that. This marriage involved another person. Forever. And she couldn’t predict the outcome.

  Be sensible, Charlotte Gensch had said. Love grows.

  People married without love every day, but love grew. Certainly friendship stood just as much of a chance.

  But what if Mr. Morgan wanted more than friendship? What if he actually hoped love would grow between them?

  If Naomi was honest, this deep down, nagging feeling was the fear she could never love him. Not in the way a woman wants to love her husband. There was no spark between them. In truth, he felt more like a brother to her. He hadn’t even tried to kiss her yet—and she hadn’t minded.

  She pushed open her bedroom door feeling sick to her stomach, caught in a web of expectation and unable to do a thing about it. She should have been honest with Mr. Morgan. She’d trapped a good man in a bad promise.

  “Oh!” said someone hidden by the cheval mirror.

  “Charity?”

  Naomi’s redheaded sister peeked around the mirror, her eyes huge. “This isn’t what it looks like!”

  “It looks like you’re trying on my wedding dress.”

  Wait. Something clicked in Naomi’s mind. Charity is in love with Mr. Morgan. And… She sucked in a breath. Mr. Morgan was in love with Charity!

  Looking back over the past several days, they’d both been struggling against the fact—why, anyone with eyes should have seen it.

  Hallelujah!

  The sun came out in the garden.

  “I’m sorry.” Charity began to step out of the dress, extra carefully, in a mighty effort not to damage its lace. “I just wanted to see…”

  “What it would look like on you?” Naomi’s heart pounded. A shocking idea seized hold of her. “Why not? We’re the same size, after all. But if you’re going to try it on, best do it properly.”

  What a narrow escape!

  “Take these.” She handed Charity the silk stockings and corset laid out on the bed.

  “No. I couldn’t.”

  “Oh yes you can. For once, our being the same size is going to be a boon to us both.”

  She helped her sister get everything on in the right order, then Charity helped her into an equally unwieldy promenade dress that had come with the wedding gown, part of a fabulous gift of expensive clothing from Belle’s rich friend in New York.

  “What a bag of nails!” Charity said. “This is madness.”

  But Naomi just grinned. To her, it was deliverance. What had she been thinking? She wasn’t the marrying kind, why kid herself?

  It took no great effort to step aside. Once, a long time ago, she’d been truly humiliated by love. This was not that.

  She picked up the wedding dress’s train and followed her sister down the stairs, out of Calico Manor, and down the lane to the Little Church. She sent Charity inside, her sister’s impish grin, adorable blue-green eyes, and wild red hair well hidden by the thick veil. Looking in from just outside the door, Naomi felt downright giddy.

  She was free!

  As Charity walked up the aisle to meet Mr. Morgan in holy matrimony, the churchyard gate creaked open. Someone arriving late to witness the ceremony.

  A beam of late-morning sunlight made a golden halo behind the tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired stranger coming her way. With each step, his leather duster swayed elegantly about his legs. His vital male energy appeared tightly controlled yet ready to burst loose at any moment.

  Time slowed.

  On he came, closer, and closer still.

  He was older, well past thirty, and confoundingly handsome. He felt so familiar… and yet she’d never seen anyone like him. Everything she had believed went topsy-turvy. You weren’t running from marriage, said the voice. You were running from the wrong marriage.

  He stepped up onto the small porch, and it wasn’t until then she saw the sorrow of the world in his eyes. He smiled slightly, politely touched the brim of his Stetson.

  A great yearning assailed her. In all her life, Naomi had never wanted anything, not like this. She longed to reach up and lay her palm against his cheek, tell him all would be well now. But even if she dared, she could not. Speech didn’t exist. Nor day nor night. Here and there had no meaning. She had no idea where she stopped and he began.

  She was powerless to move, spellbound, and utterly defenseless, standing with him there at the threshold.

  Chapter 2

  At the Lilac Hotel Café, refreshments had been laid out in the alcove in abundance, but they were disappearing fast as the Break Hearters continued to remark on the wedding with good-natured astonishment.

  In the main room, all the tables were pushed against the walls, and the stranger guided Naomi out to the dance floor. With expert grace, he led her past her sister and Mr. Morgan.

  Charity’s veil was thrown back at a cockeyed angle, and her partner grinned like a lovesick bridegroom—though he wasn’t one.

  The two hadn’t got hitched after all.

  What happened instead Naomi blamed on a momentary loss of all sense. Temporary insanity, that was it.

  Or maybe her guardian angel had placed her at that particular church door at that particular mad moment when the most perfect particular specimen of manhood who could ever possibly exist walked into her imperfect, secretly lonely life… and asked her to be his wife.

  And maybe that guardian angel had been playing a practical joke, for the stranger turned out to be the real P
reston Morgan of Morning Star Ranch! The man Charity loved—the one everyone had assumed was Preston—was his brother Rafe.

  It was all a mix-up, a comedy of errors which Rafe Morgan had been unable to untangle, having so much care for people’s feelings that he could never find the right time to sort things out. At the last minute, he’d blurted out his true name just as Charity pulled back her veil to reveal her face.

  And when they stepped away from the altar, Naomi and Preston had stepped up. In an act of outright madness and unpardonable desire, Naomi married the man not five minutes after meeting him.

  I belong to this person, she thought now in wonder. And he belongs to me. And she didn’t know anything about him, not really. In all her life until today, she’d never once done something so impulsive. So unaccountable.

  It seemed like a good idea at the time!

  She couldn’t pretend she’d acted for her family’s sake or with practical considerations for her own future security. She could hardly admit the truth to herself. There was nothing practical or dutiful in it. She’d done it for one reason only.

  She wanted him.

  In the golden glow of that late-morning sun, a kind of fever had come over her, something primal—no schoolgirl notion of love at first sight. Like a living thing, her desire had growled from deep within: mine.

  Now that she knew such a man existed in the world, the idea that he’d go away, that she’d never see him again, had been intolerable. He could have been a Deckom and she would have wanted him anyway.

  But thank you, heaven, thank you that he is no Deckom!

  With the fog of madness cleared, she took stock of what she’d done. Everything was fine. He was respectable. In fact, he was the very catch everyone thought she had landed. All was well and good.

  In a way, it was funny! She’d married an entirely different person than she expected to when she woke up this morning, but she’d still married Preston Morgan of Morning Star Ranch, and now they were dancing together at their wedding reception, the most normal, natural, expected thing in the world. He’d offered a home to Luke and Hannah, her two youngest siblings.