Change of Heart Read online

  Change of Heart

  The Belles of Wyoming

  Ginny Sterling

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  Lightning Strikes Twice

  Blessings of Love

  An Agent for Gillian

  The Belles of Wyoming Series Page

  Afterword

  About the Author

  Introduction

  Time has a way of breaking even the strongest of men… or women!

  Grace Harding blindly promised her hand in marriage to save her mother from the streets. She never imagined that agreeing to the arrangement would deliver her straight into a nightmare of her own making. Everything she could have ever wanted in a man, she found in George’s smile.

  George Madison had nearly been destroyed by his addictions. Fighting his own personal demons, he found himself enchanted by another temptation. On his way to Belle to reunite with his family, a beautiful woman stole his heart. Grace was breathtaking, kind, but off-limits… promised to another man.

  When two souls are torn between duty and love, can a sudden change of heart be just what they needed?

  Chapter 1

  George was slowly ruining his life.

  He was killing himself with whiskey. It was official and he deserved everything coming to him, he thought, as he tried to rid his body of the alcohol. He’d tried to stop drinking several times before in the past and always seemed to crash hard back into the addiction. He’d been utterly awful to his family the last several years and it was all a blur of broken memories.

  He remembered Katherine marrying Chris and celebrating their wedding with a round of drinks that led to him waking up in the gutter during a rainstorm. Carrie had married his youngest brother Alex – which resulted in him almost dying as he fell off a carriage stone-cold drunk in the middle of a busy street. Those times were long gone and now, he had nothing.

  Christopher was dead and his bride – in name only- had sold the house. He vaguely remembered telling Katherine that she was going to marry him. The memory of it sent a shiver of relief down his spine. He’d always looked at the Cornell girls as his little sisters. They were younger than him by almost ten years and the idea of touching one of them made him ill.

  Had he really tried to bully Katherine into marrying him for the money? Grabbing a bucket, George retched painfully. His stomach and chest hurt from throwing up so very much as his body tried to purge itself of the poisons he enjoyed imbibing.

  He had a drinking problem.

  It was actually a horrific nightmare that dulled the senses, making him numb and able to cope with the pressures around him. His father preached to him of duty and carrying on the family name… a name he’d ruined by driving them all into debt and bargaining them off like chattel. Even Christopher had turned to substance abuse, but George would never tell his brother’s dirty secret.

  He knew his brother was sickly and understood the desire to numb himself. Wasn’t that why he drank so heavily? It wasn’t that the whisky or rotgut tasted good- no, it burned like fire and made him feel terrible. It was because he felt such an addiction to how blessedly carefree it made him feel. He could run away in a bottle and drown his sorrows away.

  And nearly had- drowned, that is- in gutters or mudpuddles. George had awoken several times in places he didn’t recognize or in cities he didn’t remember traveling to. It was terrifying, but that just drove him to drink even more so he didn’t have a panic attack.

  Now the house George had grown up in and always dreamt he would inherit was currently being emptied of all the Madison family’s personal belongings. His things, his memories, his legacy – was all being sold.

  Grabbing a crystal decanter nearby that was nearly full, George turned it upwards and began to drink heavily in massive gulps. The sherry burned his throat like acid, mixing with the bile threatening to spill forward from his stomach.

  Keep drinking, he thought morosely. The nausea will subside, the pain will fade, and everything will be okay for a few hours, he thought, swallowing down the bitterness of the alcohol and defeat in his soul. He’d never been able to clean up before – why start now?

  Cracking open an eye at the bright sunlight overhead, George groaned painfully in utter disappointment and despair. Where was he? At least he wasn’t face first in excrement or a puddle of water again. He’d hit some really low spots in his life. Being sober, dry, and lying in the grass somewhere had to be one of the higher spots as of recent. Sitting up slowly, he smacked his lips at how dry his tongue seemed to feel. His teeth hurt right now and that was a first for him.

  “Sir? Sir, are you alright?” a young boy asked nearby, staring at George quizzically. He picked up a stick and poked him in the shoulder, amusing George to no end.

  “I’m fine. Go get me your daddy’s whiskey,” he ordered and lay back down in the grass awaiting his drink. Feeling another poke in the shoulder, he sat up again quickly and threw up painfully. A salty, fishy smell assaulted his nose and he wondered absently what he’d eaten.

  “Ya need ta take it slow there, boy-o.”

  George hung his head between his shoulders, trying to keep his face from the puddle of vomit he’d just brought up. Slowly he turned his head to look at the other man nearby. The boy who’d poked him with a stick was standing behind him, both watching George curiously.

  “Where am I?”

  “Ye don’t know?”

  “No, I don’t know or I wouldn’t be asking ye,” George mocked sarcastically, feeling another wave of nausea rip through him.

  “Saucing me won’t get ye nowhere laddie-other than a swift kick in yer backside and a whoopin’ long overdue.”

  “My apologies,” George said flatly. “Now, where am I?”

  “Essex.”

  “Where’s that at? Near Lancaster or Harrisburg?”

  “Neither. You warshed up o’er yonder on the banks of Essex, Maryland, nearly dead and drowned, boy-o.”

  “Get me a bottle of whiskey,” George whispered, feeling his head spin at the older man’s words.

  “If ya don’t mind me sayin’ – I think ye’ve had quite enough.”

  “I didn’t ask you.”

  “Nay, but I’m tellin’ ye.”

  “Go away.”

  “This is me land yer lyin’ upon, boy-o. You go away.”

  George tried to jump to his feet but landed on his knees, grimacing at the mess his left knee landed in. He fell forward onto his hands and threw up again.

  “Ye needs ta’ get it outta yer system and fill yer body with the things it deserves.”

  “Whiskey?”

  “Water.”

  “I think I’ve had enough sea water in my guts.”

  “Aye. More than most,” the man laughed, slapping his knee.

  “Just leave me here to die,” George moaned, hanging his head again.

  “Not on my property.”

  Collapsing in the filthy grass, George fell asleep. He woke up hours later in a barn, stripped of his clothing and covered in a horse blanket. He was lying in hay and shivering uncontrollably. His stomach began to rebel as his head pounded.

  His eyes felt scratchy and he recognized the signs of him coming down off the alcohol. He needed a drink to even out the sensations and numb him. Grabbing a pitcher nearby, he drank straight from the pitcher without bothering with the cup nearby. Taking several gulps, he realized it was water- not alcohol like he’d hoped.

  “Arghhh!” he yelled, throwing the pitcher careles
sly across the barn. He pulled the blanket back over his head to hide away from everything, including himself. This pattern continued for a few days. He would wake up, take several drinks and get angry at the lack of alcohol. Sometimes there was cheese and bread waiting there, other times it was a tepid broth. George wasn’t sure how long this continued but he knew that it had been dark outside for at least a few times. His clothing lay draped across the doorway of the horses stall he was lying inside of.

  Gingerly, he got to his feet and wrapped the horse blanket around his shoulders. He felt wretched and the stench coming off of his body told him that he’d been sweating quite a bit. Things weren’t spinning terribly around him and he actually felt a little better than he had in quite a long time. The nausea was still there but manageable, thankfully. Grabbing his clothing, he pulled it on to hide his nakedness and felt alarmed at how lanky his body seemed to be. He knew he’d thrown up quite a bit, but his midsection and torso seemed to be almost gaunt, causing his pants to fit him a little more loosely than before.

  “Yer up, boy-o?”

  “Yes, thank you,” George said, feeling more and more like himself. “How long have I been here?”

  “Nary a week.”

  “A week?” he gaped and put his hand out to steady himself as the room spun around him. He was hundreds of miles from home and had been stranded here nearly a week. Where was Katherine? Where were his things?

  “I need to go home,” he admitted. “I’m quite a distance and I’m sure I will be missed.”

  “Te’ be sure! Yer things are locked up tidy in my home. Me wife made some stew and fresh bread this morning. Ye look a bit peckish and could use something hot in yer belly.”

  Whiskey? George thought instantly and shook his head, trying to get the insidious voice out of his mind. No, no more whiskey or any alcohol for him. He’d never imagined how far he would sink before he found the line he wouldn’t cross mentally. Well, he was there. He’d danced on that line, hopped right over it, and struggled to crawl back to the world he hoped he still recognized. He needed to get home and apologize for being such a monster to his sister-in-law before she disappeared, leaving him alone with the terrors he’d created in his mind.

  A little over a week later, George stood in the rain staring at the place he’d once called home. He could see people inside as they moved about the rooms, flitting from one space to another. They looked happy, he thought sadly, happier than any of them had ever been.

  Have a drink.

  Whiskey will make you forget.

  Just one drink won’t hurt you.

  Drown away the pain.

  The words echoed in his mind and tortured him as he stared at his former home. He could have been the son his father needed. He should have been strong enough to keep the family together. Instead, he’d hidden away in the liquid poison like a coward, and it was time for change. The house was gone. His entire family was gone or buried. George was alone with no place to call home and no one to welcome him.

  He was truly afraid of giving in to the temptation to wash away any pain, doubt, and recrimination. He didn’t trust himself and was afraid that if he gave in – he’d lose the battle within him … permanently.

  Chapter 2

  Grace couldn’t believe her ears.

  Grabbing the arm of the settee, she listened as the solicitor read out the terms of her grandfather’s will – along with the even longer list of debts owed by their family. She had no idea that her father had racked up a bill that her mother was paying on. She hadn’t said a word and now that her grandfather was gone, so was her mother’s stipend they’d lived off of.

  Her father had been gone a year and during that time Grace had learned to rely on herself. She adored her mother, lived for her smile and laughter, but managing the home fell squarely on her shoulders. Grace could add and subtract – her mother had never learned how. It was a wonder that her mother had hidden the payments for so very long from her! She felt ashamed at the surge of frustration within her body, as well as from the eyes that burned the back of her head. Sitting up even straighter, she cleared her throat, determined to find a solution.

  “I see,” Grace began. “So, you’ve told me my grandfather’s instructions as well as the list of foibles my family has created – quite indelicately, I might add,” she quipped softly, looking at the men sitting there casually in the room.

  “I assume you’ve all come for your fair share. The blood is in the water and the sharks have arrived ready to feed upon my family?” she seethed tightly between her teeth.

  “Now see here, Miss Harding,” one man protested, puffing up his chest staunchly. “This is completely uncalled for!”

  “Prove me wrong then, kind sir. Are we related?”

  “Nay. There are no harridans in my family,” he boasted and Grace raised a single delicate eyebrow pointedly.

  “Then you are here to…” Grace drawled casually, inspecting her gloves and looking once more at him with a glacial stare. “…Collect everything you can from two apparently penniless women? Let’s see if I can guess which company you work for on the list.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” the solicitor interrupted. “Let’s not make a bad situation worse when there is a solution that could suit both issues at stake.”

  “This should be interesting,” she muttered, feeling a pounding at her temple from where she’d been clenching her jaw. She was glad her mother was at home mourning the loss of her father because she could cheerfully shake someone right about now.

  “Mr. Nathaniel Morrow has generously offered to marry you in lieu of collecting his portion of the debt.”

  “Is Mr. Morrow here?”

  “I’m afraid not. He’s been called back to his home to settle a few land purchases and notarize some documents in Belle, Wyoming.”

  “So, I’m to accept the offer of marriage without seeing my groom?”

  “It’s that or pay the note your grandfather owed.”

  “How much did he owe Mr. Morrow? I don’t recall you mentioning him when you listed off the plethora of bills we currently have.”

  “I wanted to save you that disgrace.”

  “Compared to the earlier one?”

  “It’s substantial,” he affirmed quietly, looking at her, almost pleading to drop the subject. Grace wasn’t a wilting daisy to let things go.

  “No, no. Please do go on! My name is in shambles, my accounts penniless, and my future a mess. So, share with the group just how much a wife can be bought for, Mr. Owens.”

  “Eighteen thousand dollars.”

  Grace struggled to swallow the burning bile that tickled her throat. Her blood was roaring in her ears and she almost asked Mr. Owens to repeat the sum simply because it was atrocious. They didn’t own any land and the idea that it had been sold without paying the note made her feel ill. Taking a deep breath, she pursed her lips to keep from screaming and waited several moments for the hysteria to fade away. You could have heard a pin drop in the room at the silence around her. She vowed not to look at anyone else. The sympathy in Mr. Owens’ gaze was quite nauseatingly enough for one person to handle.

  “It seems I shall be getting married- eh?”

  Chapter 3

  Fort Bridger was an incredible sight to see. It was a bustling hive of people, darting everywhere, moving from building to building. Large barns, blacksmiths, and rows of saloons indicated that not only was it busy- it could be an intoxicating place to be! Soldiers rode through past where she stood, almost at a full gallop. Holding her hat in place at the breeze and dust they kicked up, Grace smiled widely.

  She’d never been away from home and this travel seemed to be so very exciting. She’d ridden on the train, taking her and her mother from Saint Louis to Wyoming. That was part of what was so completely infuriating – her family owed money to people all over the United States. She’d never even heard of Belle, Wyoming!

  After meeting with the solicitor, Grace had torn the house upside down (and i
nside out) looking for land deeds, property, bonds, or anything remotely of value. She simply couldn’t fathom the fact that she was selling her hand in marriage in an attempt to reduce the debts owed by the Hardings.

  It was completely laughable to think they’d been allowed to borrow so much money from so many people. They’d lived like kings in Saint Louis, remembering the parties and balls she’d attended. She’d been taught by the best tutors growing up – and discovered that they owed them money too!

  She couldn’t tell her mother the full truth either. If she knew the whole of it, she would have been crushed. Pearl Harding had always been of a delicate constitution, fainting dead away when she misbehaved as a young girl. Grace was more like her father, direct and to the point, so much so that it was intimidating to some men.

  Mr. Morrow had no idea what he’d signed up for marrying her! The letter the solicitor had left burned a hole directly in her soul. Opening the already broken seal, Grace rolled her eyes imagining how many people had read the private documents inside.

  To whom it may concern,

  I find myself in need of a bride. I request someone with unquestionable ethics and a strong family bloodline. Wyoming is an adventurous state but not for the faint of heart. In exchange, I am willing to provide a healthy dowry in exchange for the right maiden’s hand in marriage.

  Sincerely,

  Nathaniel Morrow

  No words of love, no explanation- the letter was direct and to the point, something she could appreciate fully. She noticed that the letter had not specifically mentioned the eighteen thousand dollars, and when she questioned the solicitor about it, he’d shown her the second page of debts that had not been read aloud. Grace had sighed heavily, feeling the weight of responsibility on her shoulders.