In the Western Romantic Series.....
She thought coming back at last, would be a good thing. But in truth, she wasn't sure. She hardly remembered her life with her father. It had been hard, she knew that. Her mother had struggled with her health, and in the end, her father had sent them both back to San Franciso to find healers her mother believed in, the town doctor couldn't seem to help her.
At the time, it was only going to be for a short while, just long enough for her mother to recover but that hadn't happened. Her mother had continued to be frail for another fifteen years, bedridden for most of it right up to the moment she passed. Never did she again see her husband.
They had been lucky in that her aunt had been able to take them in. Local Chinese doctors and healers sourced to aid her along with Western medicine. But there was nothing anyone could seem to do for her and as she lingered through the years, it was hard to understand how it could happen.
And on her passing, how she would ever go on? In her devastating loss, the reality was she had no choice but to go on. The letter she sent to her father had not been easy to write. A man of letters, he had written to both of them every week and they had done the same, adding in the odd photo of them both. It was of little comfort. And now at 21, it was such a long time since she'd seen her father, his return letter told her she could stay there if she wished. He understood. She was an educated woman now with expectations of her own thanking her for caring for her mother.
It had been a long time and she barely knew him.
But staying with her aunt longer wasn't an option. She'd done her duty to her mother and to burden her further wasn't right. Besides, the family were talking alliances, making arrangements about her life they had no right to do. Reminding her of their traditions. Their honor. Traditions she'd never wanted. And never one to bow to pressure she always went her own way.
No. She had to go home and confront her father she had failed him. Her mother couldn't be saved and she hadn't been able to bring her back to him at all.
****
She was coming home. The daughter he remembered....
Having joined the English man shortly before his wife became ill they'd departed for a place he did not know that offered the chance of life to the English's wife. He'd been 16, found hunting on the man's land hungry and desperate. Rather than shoot him he asked if he wanted a job. It came with money and food. He took it gladly guessing he looked like he needed it or the English was just that kind.
A rarity in his experience. He had been that desperate, his people were dying. His family.
It had been more than 15 years. He'd been married and widowed in that time. Losing the joy in his life. To more sickness, his people did not understand. And then the long years of mourning their loss and the isolation of being alone.
He remembered a timid girl. Long plaits and skinny legs. 15 Years was a long time. But she'd not married. It seemed strange to him, to be so old and have no man, the English speaking of her often showing him images of her and her mother as she grew into a woman.
She had haunted his dreams for so many years. Educated and pretty, kind, he wondered why she was alone. Her father never talked of it.
His time spent between the Indian Village doing his duty to his people and the Sheep ranch. It helped to feed his people. Herding, scouting, tracking those that got lost. It was simple without conflict in the main. Hardly a warrior's role but times had changed. Too many had been lost, their tribe often on the brink. The meat he provided held starvation at bay.
Alone for a long time now, lost to his grief before it passed and he found a way to live on. He wondered if she was also lost and coming home. Did she need him to find her?
Genre: Romance
She thought coming back at last, would be a good thing. But in truth, she wasn't sure. She hardly remembered her life with her father. It had been hard, she knew that. Her mother had struggled with her health, and in the end, her father had sent them both back to San Franciso to find healers her mother believed in, the town doctor couldn't seem to help her.
At the time, it was only going to be for a short while, just long enough for her mother to recover but that hadn't happened. Her mother had continued to be frail for another fifteen years, bedridden for most of it right up to the moment she passed. Never did she again see her husband.
They had been lucky in that her aunt had been able to take them in. Local Chinese doctors and healers sourced to aid her along with Western medicine. But there was nothing anyone could seem to do for her and as she lingered through the years, it was hard to understand how it could happen.
And on her passing, how she would ever go on? In her devastating loss, the reality was she had no choice but to go on. The letter she sent to her father had not been easy to write. A man of letters, he had written to both of them every week and they had done the same, adding in the odd photo of them both. It was of little comfort. And now at 21, it was such a long time since she'd seen her father, his return letter told her she could stay there if she wished. He understood. She was an educated woman now with expectations of her own thanking her for caring for her mother.
It had been a long time and she barely knew him.
But staying with her aunt longer wasn't an option. She'd done her duty to her mother and to burden her further wasn't right. Besides, the family were talking alliances, making arrangements about her life they had no right to do. Reminding her of their traditions. Their honor. Traditions she'd never wanted. And never one to bow to pressure she always went her own way.
No. She had to go home and confront her father she had failed him. Her mother couldn't be saved and she hadn't been able to bring her back to him at all.
****
She was coming home. The daughter he remembered....
Having joined the English man shortly before his wife became ill they'd departed for a place he did not know that offered the chance of life to the English's wife. He'd been 16, found hunting on the man's land hungry and desperate. Rather than shoot him he asked if he wanted a job. It came with money and food. He took it gladly guessing he looked like he needed it or the English was just that kind.
A rarity in his experience. He had been that desperate, his people were dying. His family.
It had been more than 15 years. He'd been married and widowed in that time. Losing the joy in his life. To more sickness, his people did not understand. And then the long years of mourning their loss and the isolation of being alone.
He remembered a timid girl. Long plaits and skinny legs. 15 Years was a long time. But she'd not married. It seemed strange to him, to be so old and have no man, the English speaking of her often showing him images of her and her mother as she grew into a woman.
She had haunted his dreams for so many years. Educated and pretty, kind, he wondered why she was alone. Her father never talked of it.
His time spent between the Indian Village doing his duty to his people and the Sheep ranch. It helped to feed his people. Herding, scouting, tracking those that got lost. It was simple without conflict in the main. Hardly a warrior's role but times had changed. Too many had been lost, their tribe often on the brink. The meat he provided held starvation at bay.
Alone for a long time now, lost to his grief before it passed and he found a way to live on. He wondered if she was also lost and coming home. Did she need him to find her?
Genre: Romance
Used availability for Jessie Rose Case's The Wayward Daughter