One year had passed since the wagon train ended its long journey. The Oregon valley had transformed from an untamed wilderness into a flourishing haven of hope and labor. Honora hardly recognized the land before her. It certainly looked completely different from when they had built it. 

The season had turned to a crisp, golden autumn, dusting the surrounding fir-covered hills in amber and amber sunlight. The green that they had moved into was gone again, but she thought that this was even more beautiful. 

Their dream of a quiet life had taken root in the fertile soil. Where once stood a solitary patch of timber, a sturdy wooden homestead now sat complete with a spacious barn, well-fenced pastures, and a herd of fine horses that he raised and trained with gentle, patient hands. Honora felt incredibly blessed, watching her husband work. He was everything she had ever wanted and all she didn’t know she needed.

On a quiet, cool morning, as the early mist still hung over the grass, Asa stepped through the cabin door after tending to the morning feed. He wiped his boots on the threshold and set his hat aside, and Honora watched him from the kitchen table with a smile. Asa was no longer afraid, he was calm, ready, and utterly himself. He returned her smile, walking slowly over to her.

Asa approached quietly, leaning over to press a tender kiss to the crown of Honora’s head before gazing down at the tiny bundle in her arms. Hannah’s dark, wide eyes blinked at him, bright with curiosity. She could not believe that they had created such a little miracle. 

“She’s got your eyes, Honora,” Asa said softly, his voice laced with awe as he gently stroked the baby’s soft cheek with his thumb. “Dark as the night sky, and just as full of light. Our little Hannah.”

Honora looked down to their nursing child. “She may have my eyes, Asa, but she certainly inherited her father’s stubbornness. She fought me for an hour before finally settling down to feed. She knows exactly what she wants, even at three weeks. I am proud of her, as tired as I am.”

Asa let out a quiet, rumbling chuckle, settling into the chair beside them. “Well, if she’s stubborn, she gets that from both of us. A little stubbornness is no bad thing here in Oregon. It’ll keep her strong. She won’t know any different. She will grow up here, prepared for what the West has to offer. It won’t be hard for her, like it was for us. We will give her the best, better than what we had.”

“Strong, yes,” Honora replied, her gaze softening as Hannah closed her eyes, full and content at last. “I just hope she doesn’t test us as much as we tested each other.”

Asa laughed at that. 

“I hope not either,” he replied.

Later that morning, as the sun climbed higher, Honora readied herself for the walk into the nearby settlement. She often took walks. She even had the day Hannah was born, ready for her life to change forever. Now, she wrapped Hannah warmly and carried her along the dirt path toward the small medical clinic she had opened near the center of town. It had been the biggest thing that she had ever done, and yet she had never felt more confident about anything. The small timber structure was her pride and joy, fitted with shelves of dried herbs, clean linens, and salve, serving as a beacon of healing for the expanding community. She hadn’t been back since Hannah was born, but now felt like the right time. 

As she unlocked the front door and stepped inside to prepare her workspace, a firm knock sounded at the doorpost. She turned to see Tobin enter the room, holding a sealed envelope in his hand. Tobin had grown taller and filled out over the past year, carrying himself with a new sense of responsibility. She thought that he was growing into a fine young man, who acted as if he had spent his whole life in Oregon Territory. She thought that perhaps Prue’s excitement ran in his blood. 

“Morning, Honora,” Tobin said politely, lifting his hat. Gone was the teenager who had looked fearful and shy on the trail, and in his place was a full grown polite young man. “Rider brought the post from the territorial capital this morning. There’s a letter here for you and Asa.”

Honora accepted the heavy paper, noting the official prison postmark. Her heart gave a small flutter as she recognized the sharp, stiff handwriting on the front. She knew exactly who it was. 

“Thank you, Tobin,” she said softly. Fortunately, Tobin did not inquire as to why her hands were trembling. 

A short while later, Prue arrived at the clinic to check in on Hannah and assist Honora. Prue often stopped by and it seemed like she somehow always knew when Honora needed her the most. 

Settling near the window while Hannah slept soundly in her wooden cradle, Honora unsealed the letter and unfolded the single sheet of parchment just as Prue walked in the door. They only had to share one look for Prue to know it was serious. 

“It’s from Malachi,” Honora said quietly, meeting Prue’s attentive gaze.

Prue paused, her eyebrows lifting. “What does he have to say after all this time?” She tried to ask as if she was merely curious but Honora knew that she had to read the letter out loud. 

Honora cleared her throat and began reading the neat, sparse lines aloud. She knew that Asa should probably read it first, but she wanted to be prepared if the words were unkind. She wanted to protect her husband as much as he protected her.

“Brother and Sister in law, I write this from the stone cell where I spend my days. The prison chaplain leaves a Bible on the table each night, much like the one mother used to read to us when we were boys. I sit in the quiet and think on her words, and on what you said to me before they took me away. I spent my whole life believing strength was all that mattered, but here, strength buys nothing. I find myself wondering about the faith you found, and whether a man like me, with so much blood on his hands, could ever truly find his way back to it. I hope the life you built together is peaceful. Although mine may never be, it is a comfort that yours is.” 

Honora settled back as she read it, processing the thoughts that were running through her head. If she was honest with herself, the letter was nothing like what she thought it would be. 

Prue nodded thoughtfully, a gentle look in her eyes. “God’s grace reaches into the darkest places, Honora. If Asa could find his way to the light, perhaps his brother can, too. After all, they were raised the same, weren’t they? They have the same hearts.” 

“Maybe,” Honora said. “In any case, the words are kind and I’ll take them at face value. Maybe one day… Maybe one day, although I know it’s impossible, all of us could be a real family.” 

“Forgiveness is close to Godliness,” Prue said. “I think you have a big heart to say something like, Honora.” 

“It’s just…” Honora glanced over at her sleeping child. “I know what it’s like to lose your family. I know what it’s like to say goodbye just as you got used to saying hello. I don’t want that for Hannah. I want her to know her family, all sides of them.” 

“That is kind of you,” Prue said. “If she is meant to know him, it will be God’s will.” 

“Yes,” Honora said, softly. “Yes, I think it will be.” 

When evening arrived, the entire settlement gathered at the center meadow for the annual harvest supper. It reminded Honnora so much of the nights on the wagon train, just more elaborate. Lanterns hung from the branches of the great oak trees, casting a warm, golden glow over long wooden tables piled high with fresh bread, roasted meats, and autumn vegetables. Children ran laughing through the grass while a local fiddler tuned his instrument near the bonfire. It was truly the perfect evening. 

The fiddler struck up a lively tune, filling the crisp night air with a sweet, joyous melody. Asa set his mug down and walked over to where Honora stood talking with Prue, holding little Hannah. Gently taking his daughter and passing her to Prue’s eager arms, Asa offered his hand to his wife. 

“May I have this dance, Mrs. Kincaid?” he asked with a warm smile. She loved that he could call her that. 

Honora’s eyes sparkled as she placed her hand in his. “Always, Mr. Kincaid.” 

He led her onto the open grass near the fire, pulling her close as they swayed to the music. As they turned under the starlit sky, Honora rested her head against his chest and spoke softly.

“Malachi wrote,” she whispered softly against his coat. “He’s reading the Bible. He asked if faith could ever be found for a man like him. I have the letter. I’m sorry I read it first. It sounds like he is… changing.” 

Asa held her a little tighter, looking out over the flickering flames of the bonfire toward the vast, dark horizon of the valley. 

“If God can redeem a man like me, Honora,” Asa said softly into the night, “then I think my brother might just find his way back, too.”

“You weren’t so hard to redeem,” she told him. “You have a good heart that you turned yourself.” 

“So you say,” he replied. “But I don’t know if I would have stayed the course if I didn’t know you.” 

She snuggled closer into his chest as the tune started to fade out. 

“And I don’t know that I would have stayed out here if it wasn’t for you,” she said. “I missed the East so much during the journey… but what I realized was that I was missing home. You are my home now. I love you, Asa.” 

“I love you too,” he said as the music stopped. “My wife.” 

“My husband,” she said softly. 

When she was told the West was challenging, she hadn’t truly understood. Now, she knew that she had to experience those things to find the life she had always wanted, to love a man remade by storm. 

The Lord really did work in mysterious ways. 

---

OFFER: A BRAND NEW SERIES AND 2 FREEBIES FOR YOU!

Grab my new series, "Regency Hearts Entwined", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!

---