Penny Richards - Wolf Creek Widow

The Widow’s Second Chance

Meg Thomerson needs assistance getting back on her feet—even if it comes from the man who made her a widow. Ace Allen didn’t intend to kill her husband, he only wanted to protect the town from the man’s rage. Now Ace is keeping Meg’s business and farm running while she heals, both physically and emotionally. But is he helping her out of charity—or because of something more?

Half Native American, Ace struggles to find his place in the world. He keeps himself isolated from the community, but sweet Meg begins to penetrate his defenses. At first, he simply wanted to make amends to her. Now, if she’ll let him, he could become the loving husband she deserves...

“Look at me.”

As he spoke, he gave her arms a gentle tug.

Bit by bit, as if she were expecting it to be a trick, she did as he commanded while her mind recanted the litany that this man had killed her husband.

Common sense prevailed. If he hadn’t shot Elton, Colt would be dead and you’d probably be dead yourself. He did it for you. To save you. To save Colt.

His crystalline eyes clouded with remorse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I was only going to get a twig out of your hair.”

Holding one palm up in a “stop” gesture, he reached out with the other to pluck the harmless twig from her tangled hair. Without a word, he held it out to show her.

She felt like a fool for overreacting. “Th-thank you,” she whispered, daring to let her gaze make contact with the disturbing intensity of his.

He nodded. “I know you don’t have many reasons to believe anything a man says, but I want you to know that I have never raised my hand against a woman, and I never will. You have no reason to be frightened of me. Ever.”

PENNY RICHARDS has been publishing since 1983, writing mostly contemporary romances. She now happily pens inspirational historical romance and loves spending her days in the “past” when things were simpler and times were more innocent. She enjoys research, yard sales, flea markets, revamping old stuff and working in her flower gardens. A mother, grandmother and great-grandmother, she tries to spend as much time as possible with her family.

Wolf Creek Widow

Penny Richards

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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In His favor is life: weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.

—Psalms 30:5

This book is for Ace Allen Richards, first great-grandchild and Adventurer Extraordinaire. I hope to have many more “’ventures” with you, precious blue-eyed boy.

Acknowledgments Acknowledgments Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Dear Reader Extract Copyright

Thanks to Benjamin Neeley for telling me about “thin places.” Now I know what to call those special moments.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text The Widow’s Second Chance Meg Thomerson needs assistance getting back on her feet—even if it comes from the man who made her a widow. Ace Allen didn’t intend to kill her husband, he only wanted to protect the town from the man’s rage. Now Ace is keeping Meg’s business and farm running while she heals, both physically and emotionally. But is he helping her out of charity—or because of something more? Half Native American, Ace struggles to find his place in the world. He keeps himself isolated from the community, but sweet Meg begins to penetrate his defenses. At first, he simply wanted to make amends to her. Now, if she’ll let him, he could become the loving husband she deserves...

Introduction “Look at me.” As he spoke, he gave her arms a gentle tug. Bit by bit, as if she were expecting it to be a trick, she did as he commanded while her mind recanted the litany that this man had killed her husband. Common sense prevailed. If he hadn’t shot Elton, Colt would be dead and you’d probably be dead yourself. He did it for you. To save you. To save Colt. His crystalline eyes clouded with remorse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I was only going to get a twig out of your hair.” Holding one palm up in a “stop” gesture, he reached out with the other to pluck the harmless twig from her tangled hair. Without a word, he held it out to show her. She felt like a fool for overreacting. “Th-thank you,” she whispered, daring to let her gaze make contact with the disturbing intensity of his. He nodded. “I know you don’t have many reasons to believe anything a man says, but I want you to know that I have never raised my hand against a woman, and I never will. You have no reason to be frightened of me. Ever.”

About the Author PENNY RICHARDS has been publishing since 1983, writing mostly contemporary romances. She now happily pens inspirational historical romance and loves spending her days in the “past” when things were simpler and times were more innocent. She enjoys research, yard sales, flea markets, revamping old stuff and working in her flower gardens. A mother, grandmother and great-grandmother, she tries to spend as much time as possible with her family.

Title Page Wolf Creek Widow Penny Richards www.millsandboon.co.uk

Bible Verse In His favor is life: weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. —Psalms 30:5

Dedication This book is for Ace Allen Richards, first great-grandchild and Adventurer Extraordinaire. I hope to have many more “’ventures” with you, precious blue-eyed boy.

Acknowledgments Acknowledgments Acknowledgments Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Dear Reader Extract Copyright Thanks to Benjamin Neeley for telling me about “thin places.” Now I know what to call those special moments.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Wolf Creek, Arkansas, 1886

T hunk!

Thunk!

Thunk!

The dull, rhythmic sound penetrated the light layer of sleep shrouding Meg Thomerson’s consciousness. She lay on her side, her knees pulled up to her chest as far as her injured ribs and healing arm would allow. Her hands, palms pressed together as if she were praying, were tucked beneath her cheek. Even now, dull pain pulsed in her side with every slow beat of her heart, a persistent reminder of the last time she’d been in this room.

Thunk!