“You can’t just go ‘round touching other people’s horses,” an older, grizzled man snapped, jerking on the reins of the two obviously overtired mares pulling his cart. His mean brown eyes were beady and red-rimmed, and his thin lips sat in a harsh line as he glared at the golden-red-haired girl standing just off to the side of the horses.
Jenny didn’t bow under his angry gaze, though, her wide green eyes narrowing to match his as she sidestepped him to get him out from between her and the horses again.
“I didn’t ‘just’ touch them,” she answered sharply, her eyes again going to the mares and the sweat that still clung to their flanks. “Surely, sir, you can see that they’ve been overworked for the day. The one on the right is limping and the one on the left has mud and God only knows what else caked to her legs.”
The outrage bubbled right out of her with her words, her shoulders tense as the man took a quick, angry step closer to her.
“And what does a pretty little socialite know about horses, huh?” he sneered, his wad of chewing tobacco transferred from one side of his mouth to the other. Even with such a simple question, he sounded vaguely threatening, his nostrils flaring as he stared her down.
Jenny flinched, but only slightly.
She knew the picture she presented, her skirts pressed so neatly and the silks of her dress so bright and new. Her family’s money was evident in her dress and her demeanor, though that changed nothing about what she knew. She’d always liked horses, ever since she was a young girl, but it was an uncommon interest for a woman.
Just like she knew that the man sneering at her was dangerous.
Boston was loud and angry, the sea of people moving through the streets passing by without so much as a second glance despite the caustic way the man spoke to her.
“I know enough to know that you’re mistreating your horses, sir,” she responded pointedly, unwilling to back down from how he was trying to intimidate her into silence. “I know that I gave a starving mare a carrot because she needed it, and I won’t apologize for it either. I didn’t take off with your property, and I did nothing to warrant your accosting me. So, now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Her words were unfailingly polite despite the bite behind them, her gaze derisive as she stood straighter and moved forward despite his refusing to move back upon her excusing herself.
He scoffed, his eyes moving over her in a manner that made her both even more uncomfortable and almost fearful… but still, she pressed on. With her head held high and her stride determined she passed him, refusing to flinch whenever he leaned in so pointedly and sniffed her.
Jenny didn’t have to inhale as she passed him to smell the stale alcohol and practically fermented tobacco wafting off of him in waves. It permeated the very air around him.
She wasn’t going to fight. She wasn’t going to cause any further issues.
It was a mantra in her head as she continued on down the street, the weight of his gaze heavy on her right up until she finally turned the corner out of his sight.
It was only then that she allowed herself to shudder, her lips twisted in annoyance as she tried to put the awful man and his poor, maltreated horses out of her mind. There was nothing that she could do there. And she’d been so happy coming out of the post office before he’d appeared…
The letter in her hand was the reason for that.
She had been practically giddy, something she was trying to work back up to as she walked the familiar roads of Boston back home, her steps quickening the closer and closer she drew to the house and the memory of the ill-timed encounter with the brute forced to the back of her mind.
“Jenny?” her mother called from the parlor as Jenny came in through the front door, unwinding her scarf from her neck and taking the hat she’d had perched on her red waves off of her head to hang up beside the door on the coat rack there.
“It’s me, Mother,” she answered happily, looking down at her letter again and finally allowing her grin to break free.
“Stop dallying at the door then,” her father’s voice boomed in response. “Come join us in here and tell us what had you rushing off so fast earlier.” It was a happy request no matter how much it sounded like a demand, her mother laughing gaily just after he said it.
Jenny didn’t hesitate to listen, shaking her waves out and heading into the parlor with her letter and a grin so big that she felt like it might split her face in two.
“I had to go to the post office,” Jenny explained, answering her father’s question as she paused beside her mother’s chair to kiss the top of her head fondly. “And I hardly think I rushed. I was just… quicker than I might have usually been,” she added with a giggle.
“Oh, Lord help us,” Mrs. Adams sighed, falling back into her chair and shooting Mr. Adams a look of loving exasperation. “She’s looking out for those bridal advertisement responses,” she pointed out with a shake of her head.
Jenny didn’t bother to deny it, not even when her father heaved an exasperated sigh.
“You know, most parents would be glad to see their daughter of two-and-twenty years taking her marital options into her own hands,” Jenny huffed, though not angrily. She crossed the room to fall into the chair beside her father, absent all the grace with which her mother sat perched on the one across from them.
“Most parents wouldn’t have to worry about their daughter of two-and-twenty putting out a bridal advertisement searching specifically for horse trainers or ranchers,” Mr. Adams said dryly, shaking his head with all the forbearance of a man who’d had the conversation more times than he cared to keep up with.
Jenny giggled, shrugging as she lifted the letter in her hand exuberantly and waved it around for both of her parents to see.
“Most probably wouldn’t expect to get an answer from so specific an advertisement,” Jenny acknowledged with amusement lining her words. “I told you, though, that I knew what I wanted. And, as it so turns out, there are options out there for me,” she hummed. She wasn’t at all bothered by the look her parents shared in front of her as she spoke, or the way that her father pulled at his well-oiled, well-kept beard as if he’d rather not hear about such things.
It was all old hat by that point, their reactions and their teasing.
She was far too excited to let such silly little things get to her.
“Well, I’m sure you’re going to tell us about these options,” her mother prompted with a small smile.
“I think I will.” Jenny laughed with faux self-importance as she straightened in her chair and unfolded the letter from its envelope. “Although, I should be more honest and admit that it’s two promising options so far, not several.” Not that it mattered much when her one option seemed so perfect for her.
Mr. Adams sighed again, reaching over for the scotch he kept by his chair.
“His name is Nathan Grasper, from Pine Plain, Oregon,” she confided, spreading the paper out reverently with soft fingers. “He’s established with a whole ranch of his own and speaks of being fairly comfortable. He says he has horses aplenty, more than he can work with, even.” Her cheeks flushed as she talked about him, reading over his flowery, neat handwriting all over again with a smile.
“I thought you said two options,” her father groused.
Jenny looked up and nodded. “I did, didn’t I?” She laughed. “I don’t mean to be so focused, really. I only just heard from the second today, but Nathan and I have been speaking for a little over a fortnight now.”
“A little over a fortnight?” her mother exclaimed in surprise, shooting a worried glance at her husband.
“Oh, I didn’t want to say anything about it at first just in case he wasn’t terribly interested,” Jenny explained, waving her hand as if to brush her mother’s concern away with her words. “I mean, we’ve only really shared two letters, but he really does sound perfect for me.”
Her mother smiled, tight-lipped, and looked to Mr. Adams again as if for support, but he was staring into his scotch glass with a frown. With a barely breathed sigh, she turned back to her daughter. “You might want to share more than just two letters rather than take the first man who works with horses who responds to you, darling,” she quipped, her tone light despite the very real warning in her words.
Jenny paused, looking at her mother as if considering the notion. “Samuel Morton wrote very nicely as well,” she conceded after a moment. His writing wasn’t nearly as neat and he spoke more plainly than Nathan had, but she could see the wisdom in her mother’s suggestion.
“I knew a Samuel once,” Mr. Adams muttered, his voice far away. “Good man. Got me out of a tight spot a time or two.”
Mrs. Adams only looked at her daughter, seeming to weigh her words between cautious and supportive. “Where does this Samuel Morton live then? Closer to Boston, I’d hope.”
Jenny laughed, shaking her head and causing her red waves to bounce about her face. “Oh, no. It’s the funniest thing. He’s from Pine Plain, Oregon as well! He isn’t nearly as well-established from the sounds of things, and I do believe his operation is a good deal smaller, but he is very pleasant in his letter.”
He was friendly, that was for certain. And not in the way that made it feel as if he were trying to pull one over on her as some men managed. It was a gentle, understated sort of kind and she realized, thinking about it like that, that her mother might have been on the right track.
“I plan to continue talking to both of them,” she admitted as she folded Nathan’s letter back and put it in the envelope it had come in carefully. “I know you think I’m being foolish and rash, but I really do aim to make the best decision possible here.”
Mr. Adams snorted, but Mrs. Adams only nodded, smiling in a relieved sort of way.
Jenny, looking at the letters side by side, wondered just how many letters it would take to make that kind of decision.
Jenny’s decision on beaus, as it turned out, didn’t come with three letters, or four, or even five. Two whole months of her writing to the two men, Nathan and Samuel, did nothing more than make her feel more torn on the whole subject. Her mother even persuaded her to continue fielding responses to the advert to see if maybe it was just that neither man was the right fit.
It didn’t matter how many other answers came in, though, none of them had quite the same way as those first two letters.
No matter how smart Jenny knew that trying to get to know the two men via correspondence was, though, she was beginning to feel guilty.
“You don’t have to look so sour trying to decide,” Mrs. Adams laughed one morning nearly two months into the whole thing, rapping her knuckles onto the countertop in front of where Jenny sat with the letters spread before her.
The afternoon sun shone brightly through the kitchen window, casting the whole room in a soft golden glow. Mrs. Adams was wearing her ‘visiting best,’ her red waves so like her daughter’s just beginning to gray at the roots. She smiled as she busied herself with putting away the produce she’d brought home and eyed her sullen daughter out of the corner of her eye.
Jenny was frowning as she stared down, barely looking up as her mother bustled about.
“I’m not trying to decide.” She sighed, leaning forward onto one hand as she tapped her ink-smudged fingers along her forehead. “I’m trying to … come to terms with something,” she finished after a brief pause, her frown deepening.
Mrs. Adams paused at the seriousness of Jenny’s tone and turned, resting both hands on the counter to look more solemnly at her only daughter. “Trying to come to terms with what, exactly?”
“Inconsistencies,” Jenny said shortly, picking her pen up and, with a wince, underlining another line of text in the letters she had spread before her.
Mrs. Adams’ eyebrows rose,. “Oh?” she hummed, leaning forward a bit to peer at the papers in front of Jenny. “And what inconsistencies are those?”
“Nathan’s,” Jenny mumbled, finally stopping in her pursuits to look up at her mother forlornly. “I started noticing that some of what he was saying didn’t add up… so, I went back through his letters and it turns out that there was a lot that I missed.”
Mrs. Adams bit the inside of her cheek, her expression guarded. “Like what, for instance?” she pressed.
Jenny turned the papers around where her mother could see them, her brows furrowed. “You see here, where he proclaimed he was in his thirties when we started talking, right? It was a bit older than I was looking for, but not outside of the age range I said I was willing to accept, so I thought nothing of it. But here,” she fished through the papers, pulling one forth and pointing to an underlined line with the tip of her pen. “Here, he says that his son is in his twenties. There’s simply no way that he could still be in his thirties with a son that old!”
Mrs. Adams’ eyes tightened, and she fell curiously silent as she leaned forward to read the lines Jenny had indicated. “That would certainly suggest that he’s well past his thirties,” she agreed with irritation clear in her tone.
Jenny nodded, troubled. “That was my first issue.” She sighed, flipping through the papers again and pulling one of the more faded first letters out again. “My second was here… You see where he claims that he’s a widower who lost his wife some few years back… Well, in this letter”—again, she pulled out a more recent one—“he lets slip that he’s annoyed that his daughter still corresponds so frequently with her mother!”
Mrs. Adams made a scandalized noise in the back of her throat, her eyes flashing with a fiery temper as she stood once more. “You mean to tell me that he wrote you already having a wife?”
“Already having had one, I think,” Jenny said, not sounding any more heartened by the distinction than her mother looked. “I think he means to imply that he’s divorced, which, if he had told me to begin with, would have been fine. I understand it’s frowned upon, but Mrs. Pennyworth is divorced and I still count her a fine friend.
“It’s the lying,” she professed, running both hands down her face and staring at the letters in frustration. “I’m troubled by all of the lies, and the fact that he’s twenty years my senior. Perhaps I could have worked through that. I don’t reckon I rightly know now, or can, being that he removed such an option from me to find out by hiding it in the first place!”
Mrs. Adams made a scoffing noise, turning to angrily resume putting her groceries up.
It was evident to Jenny, no matter how hard her mother was working at holding her tongue, that she was more than a little irate with the entire thing.
“Maybe,” Mrs. Adams said after several moments of tense silence while Jenny looked back over the letters again, “maybe you ought to give the whole venture up, Jenny,” she murmured, her words careful and slow as if she knew the battlefield she was navigating only just by suggesting it.
Jenny eyed her mother with a knowing gaze, already having figured she’d suggest a thing.
“Maybe,” she agreed dubiously, surprising Mrs. Adams so much she almost dropped the jar of honey she’d been putting up. “I certainly haven’t found anyone who catches my fancy more than Samuel or Nathan.”
Mrs. Adams looked back over at her, both eyebrows raised. “You haven’t said much about this Samuel,” she mentioned after a moment, wincing even as she said it.
“Well, you didn’t really want to know,” Jenny teased, but it was distracted as she put Nathan’s letters away and began pulling out a set from Samuel. “He’s very honest, although I don’t know if that’s in comparison to Nathan or just… how he is,” she mused.
“Oh?” Mrs. Adams asked, putting up the last of the groceries before turning to give all of her attention to her daughter once more.
“He says he has no family to speak of and that he’s never been married. Never so much as been engaged on account of him being so focused on building his own ranch after being a ranch hand for someone else for the last ten years.”
Jenny ran her fingers over his hurriedly scrawled writing, seeming to paint a mental picture of the man as she spoke.
“He doesn’t write me such flowery letters or tell me that my very words speak to my beauty.” She laughed, recounting Nathan’s most recent flattery. “He speaks openly about his lack of wealth and how hard it will be for him to build the ranch up to where he wants it. I can’t rightly decide if it’s stubborn or admirable, the way he phrases things.”
Mrs. Adams looked slightly surprised as she took one of the letters off of the top, squinting to read. “Does he not compliment you at all?” she queried, sounding almost offended.
“Oh, well, sure,” Jenny murmured. “He compliments my taste in reading, my knowledge of horses. He says I make fine jokes. But he seems to be less romantically inclined. He says he’s looking for someone to help him maintain his home while he spends those long hours establishing the ranch.”
Mrs. Adams looked upset at the phrasing, but Jenny wasn’t fazed by it. She found it refreshing how upfront he was with the problems he faced and his expectations. Sometimes when she was talking to Nathan, it almost felt as if he were complimenting her just to do so and not because he actually believed any of the wonderful things that he was saying.
“I don’t know how I feel about those as compliments.” Mrs. Adam sighed. “Looking at what he’s said, it does seem as if this Nathan would be able to provide a more stable and comfortable life for you, Jenny. Not that you need to rush off because of that. Your father and I have told you time and again, you needn’t feel as if you have to accept one of these proposals.
“I’ve considered that,” Jenny said slowly, a sick feeling sinking into the pit of her belly as she thought about that nice, comfortable life Nathan could probably provide. “I just… I cannot abide liars, Mother.”
Mrs. Adams made a sympathetic noise, nodding in agreement. “There is that to consider,” she said weightily.
Jenny’s frown grew once more. “I doubt I could be happily married to a liar,” she muttered, trying to picture it and only seeing the arguments it would likely inspire.
“There’s no telling how much of a liar he is,” Mrs. Adams said magnanimously, but it was clear just from her tone that she didn’t buy what she was saying any more than her grimacing daughter did.
“I considered, too,” Jenny continued as if her mother hadn’t spoken, “if Nathan is so willing to lie about his age, what’s to stop me from believing he mightn’t about his income as well?”
Mrs. Adams blinked, looking surprised. “I hadn’t thought about that,” she admitted. “Though it is certainly a good point…”
Jenny nodded, fiddling with the corner of a paper before sighing tiredly.
“It sounds as if you’ve made up your mind,” Mrs. Adams prompted gently.
“Well, no, Mother, that’s the problem,” Jenny complained. “Because what if Nathan was just nervous and that’s why he took liberties with the truth? I know I considered at one point stating that I was a good deal taller and thinner than I am, knowing how well men seem to like that these days, before I realized just how silly of me that would be. He does write so prettily, I’m inclined to want to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
Mrs. Adams eyed her with the sort of patience only a mother could possess. “For the promise of romance, you are certainly willing to give more benefit than I think I’ve ever seen you manage,” she teased, reaching forward to tweak one of Jenny’s red waves fondly.
Jenny swatted idly at her hand, not really pushing it away as she shrugged. “Is there something so wrong with that?” she asked genuinely. “I want honesty and hard work, but I’d also like to be adored, you know.”
Mrs. Adams smiled, a bittersweet sort of understanding playing about her eyes that were just a shade or two darker than her daughter’s.
“There’s nothing wrong with that at all,” she assured Jenny. “I don’t think I could agree to let you leave if you were anything less than certain.”
Jenny’s lips twitched, her body sagging once more into the counter. “I reckon I’ll just have to wait a bit longer and see,” she said with a heavy exhale.
Mrs. Adams laughed. “Ah, yes. Because you, my daughter, have always been so good at anything that required you to wait.” She crossed the room to wrap Jenny in her arms, her chin resting on her shoulder. “Don’t be in such a rush to escape me yet,” she whispered, kissing Jenny’s forehead.
“I just want to know,” Jenny confided impatiently.
Mrs. Adams squeezed her, chuckling under her breath. “All things to those who wait,” she reminded her.
Jenny smiled as she took the letter her father had wordlessly dropped into her lap.
Mr. Adams muttered something about preoccupation and romance, his words barely more than a grumbling sigh as he sank into the chair next to her and made a show of shaking out the newspaper he’d come in with for himself.
Jenny didn’t pay it any heed; he was just being his usual taciturn, thorny self. Instead, she eagerly opened the letter Nathan had sent for her. After her decision to give him the benefit of the doubt, he seemed to have really been making more of an effort to woo her, his letters more and more complimentary as time went on, and a part of Jenny liked to believe that it was on account of them establishing a better connection.
My beautiful Jennifer,
I started to worry when I didn’t receive your letter on our usual schedule, I’ll confess. It turns out there was a bit of a mishap with the wheel of the stagecoach carrying our mail, though, so, nothing on your end to help that at all. I wish you would send a photograph as I keep asking. I know that you wish to ‘forge a genuine connection,’ but have we not already fostered that?
I’m glad to know that your church social went well, though hearing your account of how well your pound cake went over had me wishing I was able to partake in having some, as well. You will have to bake all of these delicious treats for me once you are my wife. I can already imagine my kitchen teeming with the tasty concoctions you will whip up daily.
Speaking of whipping, I find it interesting you are so opposed in terms of horse training. I wouldn’t say I employ it, but I have heard of cases where it might be unavoidable. The mare I was telling you about, for instance, came from a harder life. She’s one of my most obedient, too. A nice chestnut, suitable for a woman like you, I’d reckon. She’s less of a show horse and more for day-to-day riding and chores. I reckon they must’ve used the whip on her for her to be as submissive as she is. Nothing like I’d imagine any stud would be. That’s the way of things in all of nature, though.
The hand I told you about that up and quit on me mid-turnover is still causing problems. You needn’t worry, though; as I told you before, I’m well capable of handling things myself. You won’t be marrying any old shirtwaist. Upon his daring to come to me to try and request help setting up for himself, I sold him the worst stud in my herd. A mean, temperamental fool. I’m half-convinced the beast must’ve been taken off the injuns ‘round these parts he’s so savage and untameable. And I sold him at the market price, too.
I don’t doubt that fool has reaped the rewards of his betrayal in kind by now. Probably gotten quite a few licks from that beast, too. Serves him right. I can’t abide by greed that reaches above the station one has already been afforded.
As my wife, you’ll have the same sort of power. Or at least so much as a gentlewoman like yourself can be afforded.
Do y’all have dances in Boston? We’re doing a barn raising next week and it got me thinking about the fact that I hadn’t inquired about your thoughts on dancing. You know, a girl I had been corresponding with some months back—
But Jenny didn’t read what this other girl had said. She didn’t read any of the other two pages’ worth of letters that Nathan had sent her. Her earlier grin had faded into a frown, her eyes pinched with worry as she looked back up the page to the earlier portion of his letter and reread what she had already gone over.
She didn’t know why she reread it a third time after that, either. She knew what it said, she knew she hadn’t somehow misunderstood or misread the words… but, still, she tried as if afraid that she might have.
“Jenny?” Mr. Adams asked from his chair, his voice raised only slightly in confusion as he peered at her from over the top of his newspaper.
“I—” Jenny broke off before she could get any more than just the one word out, blinking heavily and shaking her head as she lowered the letter finally and stared at her father, shell-shocked.
“Did something happen?” her father asked as he dropped his paper, folding it and keeping his finger to hold which page he’d been on as he put the paper in his lap.
“Nathan,” she murmured, her nose wrinkling in disgust. “Oh, Lord, Daddy… He just, I knew he had some antiquated notions, I kept telling myself it was his age or maybe that the West was just harder. He’s always been so complimentary and sweet in his letters… but I think he just bragged to me about how he manipulated an ex-employee of his in order to get revenge on him, and I don’t think I can quite wrap my head around it.”
Mr. Adams’ brows furrowed, an affronted look filling out over his features as he made a noise in the back of his throat. “And he told you all of that?” he asked in disbelief.
“Yes, Daddy, he did,” Jenny said in exasperation, waving the letter pointedly as she frowned at it again. “He was bragging about it! As if I would find it manly or impressive instead of deceitful and petty!”
“Hm,” her father muttered, looking down at his paper and then back at her contemplatively. “He sounds like a cad, Jenny.” He said it frankly, meeting her eyes without any apology as he obviously braced for an argument or upset.
Jenny could only sigh, her outrage deflating from her and leaving her in a sigh. “He does,” she said sadly. “I really liked the promise he had started with, Daddy,” she explained, shooting him a look that made it clear that she already knew what he was going to say about that. “He wrote so well—and I know that you’re going to say that clearly, that was all that it was, and I know that, but… I’m still disappointed.”
Mr. Adams had a strange look on his face, his stern brow softened slightly as he watched her sink further into her chair dejectedly. “Weren’t you talking to another young man as well that you found promising?” he asked awkwardly. He made a noise after he said it, shaking his head slightly. “I’ll never understand that.”
“Oh, Daddy,” Jenny sighed again. “Just because you never looked at a woman that wasn’t Mother.”
Mr. Adams snorted. “I did, though,” he answered, surprising her.
Jenny’s head shot up, her eyebrows lifting in shock.
“Oh, don’t look so scandalized, Jenny. I don’t know why you ought to have known about it before now. My childhood friend, Zacharia, had a younger sister near enough our age. It would have been a good match for our families, and my mother was certainly very fond of the idea. As were both of our fathers, as well. But then I met your mother, and while she was very interesting, everyone knew her father to be a truly frightening man.”
Jenny tilted her head, the information difficult for her to process. “How did you make your decision?” she asked curiously.
Mr. Adams shrugged, that same odd look coming over his face. “Your mother suited me better,” he said stiffly before catching sight of Jenny’s disappointed expression. “I was too young to understand what love was then, Jenny. I was fascinated by her, enamored, but more than that, we matched one another. We shared the same values, we had similar morals and desires for where we wanted our lives to go. Not everything is so romantic as those novels your mother reads.”
Jenny laughed, unable to hold the sound back. She was, surprisingly, happy with her father’s response. Despite how ‘unromantic’ he termed it, what he said made sense. It was the source of her frustration with Nathan—they didn’t have the same values, and his repetitive lying and now cruelty had only made it all too clear that he wasn’t someone she wished to pursue anything with.
“Samuel seems honest,” Jenny said after a short pause, her eyes moving from her father to stare out of the window instead. “Or, at least, he seems to be,” she amended quickly.
Mr. Adams nodded, clearing his throat. “Maybe focus on your correspondence with him, then,” he said gruffly.
Jenny’s lips twitched, her nod short as she allowed herself to slip silently into her own thoughts. Refusing to write Nathan any longer made sense to her, even without her father’s suggestion. She didn’t even want to write to explain herself as she was afraid that she would be too unkind. Deservedly or otherwise.
She just had to hope that Samuel really was what he seemed to be on paper and not just better at lying than Nathan had been.
For the first time, real doubts about her decision to find a husband this way began to fully creep in.
“Taking the Reins of her Fate” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!
Jenny Adams was born in a world of privilege, yet, she doesn’t have what she desires most – adventure. Fed up with the expectations of her wealthy parents, Jenny decides to take matters into her own hands, setting out on a fascinating journey across the country to find the life she’s always dreamed of.
With only fate to guide her, Jenny will discover that sometimes, the best things in life can’t be bought…
Sam Morton is a man who knows the value of hard work and has just achieved his dream – a ranch of his own. Meeting Jenny makes him realize that her kind soul and beautiful face are exactly what is missing from his life. As the sparks fly though, an old enemy of Sam appears with a vendetta against him and the woman he loves…
When his happiness is threatened, can he save his beloved as well as himself?
Jenny and Sam are a match made in heaven, but with serious obstacles standing in their way, it seems like the odds are stacked against them. Can they make it out of the gate, or will their enemy’s plan prevail and crush their dreams?
“Taking the Reins of her Fate” is a historical western romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.