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The Cowboy Who Saved Her Soul

God had sent him Daisy.

God had brought them together.

And Alexander knew that God had forgiven him.

Everything Daisy Barnes believed was a lie. Now, sent to marry a stranger on a remote ranch, she desperately clings to the only thing she has left: her faith. She’s determined to make it work… until another cruel twist of fate shakes her to her very soul. For the first time, even God feels silent.

Alexander Wolf has lived in the shadow of a promise he made to God—a promise that shattered him. He’s convinced he’s unworthy of love, unworthy of grace. But Daisy’s quiet faith awakens something he thought was long dead. For the first time, he begins to hope.

Then the truth comes crashing down—raw, painful, and unforgiving. Will he become the man he’s always feared? Or will he surrender to the only One who can redeem it all?

Because even in the deepest pain, God’s plan never fails.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You are a daisy. You’ll flourish wherever you’re planted—and the Lord will always watch over you.”

Written by:

Christian Historical Romance Author

4.7/5

4.7/5 (61 ratings)

Prologue

February 1858

Willow Creek, Montana Territory

 

“Push again!” the midwife cried, her voice equal parts encouragement and command. Evelyn Abbot clutched the edge of the wooden bed frame. Her chestnut-brown hair was matted to her flushed face, her knuckles were white, and her breath came in short gasps. Evelyn put all her energy into pushing.

“Is… the baby… well?” Evelyn managed when the contractions subsided.

“I can see the head,” the midwife responded. She’d said the same thing before, but Evelyn had labored for what felt like hours after that. There was a lot of blood, too. Was there supposed to be so much blood? Still, Evelyn would walk through fire and any pain for her baby. Nothing mattered – not the pain, not the difficulties of the last few months, nothing but her baby. She’d never found true acceptance with her strict father and distant mother, but this baby was a chance for a new future. This baby could have so much more than Evelyn had ever had. This baby would always feel the love that was lacking in Evelyn’s own life.

“One last push!”

Evelyn gripped the edges of the bed harder and pushed with all her might. She was on the verge of collapse, but then, the most wondrous sound in the whole world cut through her fear and pain—the soft squall of a baby crying. Evelyn’s heart soared. She had done this, the hardest task of her life. She’d brought new life into the world.

“My baby,” she whispered. She caught a glimpse of the baby, face scrunched and red, tiny hands fisted, between her legs. It was the most beautiful thing Evelyn had ever seen, and its tiny wails were strong.

“You have a daughter, Evelyn,” the midwife said, using her Christian name, instead of Ms. Abbot, as she’d done until now.

“Please, let me hold her.” Evelyn held out her arms, her body shaking with the effort of what had just happened. Still, she was overcome with a fierce need to have her daughter in her arms, now. She needed to be sure her baby was safe.

“I need to clean her up,” the midwife explained. Her pale face was slightly flushed, just as Evelyn’s was, and a few strands of her red hair had come loose from her tight bun. She lifted the baby out of reach, out of Evelyn’s line of sight. The room was dark and bare, but Evelyn knew she must have put the baby on the flat top of the dresser, where she’d laid a blanket before.

The events of the last few hours seemed unreal to Evelyn. Her whole body was trembling, and the cloying smell of blood hung in her nostrils. Her stomach was still round, but it was soft now. Despite her pain and shock, she was focused on only one thing.

“Don’t cry, little angel.” The midwife’s voice was soft and soothing. Evelyn managed to sit up, fighting tremors, and saw the midwife gently swaddling the pink, wailing infant in a soft, clean blanket. Evelyn had sewn that blanket herself while waiting for the baby to come.

“Can I hold her?” Evelyn asked again, her voice shaking.

“You’d best rest for now,” the midwife replied kindly. “You’ve been through an ordeal.” She spared a smile for Evelyn before turning back to the baby. Evelyn craned her neck to catch a glimpse of her daughter’s tiny fingers and a sharp pain shot in her abdomen. The coppery scent of blood hung heavy in the air. She could barely make out the red infant, her hair matted to her round head, her toes flexing.

“Please,” Evelyn said. The midwife lifted the still-crying infant into her arms and turned to Evelyn, the baby cradled gently in the crook of her elbow.

“Just for a minute, then.” She gave Evelyn another kind smile.

As the midwife crossed the room towards Evelyn, the door flew open. Duke Abbot, Evelyn’s father, stood framed by the doorway. His pale blue eyes, mirrors of Evelyn’s own, were fixed on the midwife and the infant in her arms. He didn’t cast so much as a glance towards his daughter on the bed.

“It’s here, then?” he asked, his voice cold. His hands clutched the Bible he always carried with him, the gold embossed letters on the front reflecting the candlelight.

“Father,” Evelyn said. She’d barely seen him during her confinement, though she was still in his house. She’d been shut in her room once her stomach began to grow round, with only the comfort of her Bible, her sewing, and the hope of the new life growing inside her. Surely, now that the baby was here, even Duke would relent. After all, children were the heritage of the Lord and a gift to be treasured. He couldn’t possibly keep them both locked up in Evelyn’s childhood bedroom. And certainly, once her father accepted the baby, he would accept her again, too. She’d always fallen short in her father’s eyes, especially these last few months, but it would be better now.

The midwife looked from Duke to Evelyn, her green eyes growing wide as saucers. She’d already begun to move across the room towards Evelyn. The child’s eyes weren’t icy blue like hers and her father’s. They were a soft hazel, like sunlight filtering through pine trees on a warm summer afternoon. Evelyn was glad of that. She wanted this baby to be different from her and her family so that she could have a different kind of life. Those beautiful hazel eyes were a start.

“Father,” Evelyn managed again, pulling his attention from the infant. Her voice cracked. “Please. It hurts. Help me.”

“‘A woman when she is in travail hath sorrow, because her hour is come,’” Duke said. “You brought this on yourself.”

Evelyn’s head spun, but even in her dizziness and pain, she remembered the rest of that verse— ‘But as soon as she is delivered of the child, she remembereth no more the anguish, for joy that a man is born into the world.’ Why hadn’t her pain gone? Worse than the pain, though, was the look on her father’s face as he gazed down at her sweet newborn daughter. It was a look of pure disgust.

“Even if I brought this on myself,” Evelyn managed. “The child is innocent. Isn’t she beautiful?”

“Take the child.” Duke’s voice was low and threatening. Evelyn’s blood turned to ice in her veins.

“Father, no.” Evelyn shook her head as she tried to push herself into a sitting position on the wooden bed. She saw a growing rivulet of red blood spreading between her legs on the white flower-dotted sheets beneath her, but Evelyn put that out of her mind. What mattered was her daughter.

“Take the child!” Duke repeated. The midwife gasped at the anger in his voice. Evelyn’s chest clenched at her father’s words. She could hardly breathe. Throughout her pregnancy, she’d imagined the moment she would welcome her child into the world, a world filled with love—not the pain and fear in the room now.

“Please!” Evelyn’s voice broke. “Not my child! She’s mine!”

“The wages of sin is death,” Duke intoned. His voice still bristled with anger, but it was lower now, and all the more terrifying for it. “This child will not tarnish the Abbot name.”

The midwife hesitated. “Please!” Evelyn cried, but her father’s voice was louder.

“Go!” he shouted. He turned to the midwife and grabbed her shoulders. Evelyn cried out in fear—for her infant daughter in the midwife’s arms.

“This is Ms. Abbot’s daughter,” the midwife said, her voice low but strong. “This baby is your granddaughter. Please, give her a chance.”

“She is not my granddaughter.” Duke’s voice was cold. “This family can’t take another sin.”

“Yes, she is.” The midwife stepped closer. “Just look at Evelyn’s face. Look at your daughter. Your daughter and granddaughter need you right now. Please, let me help them.”

“I do not care. Go!” Duke repeated, his voice louder. Even in the candlelight, his face was red. “Take the baby and leave!” He shoved the midwife away, and the woman stumbled.

The midwife looked at Evelyn. Her face was now filled with fear. “Please, Mr. Abbot, your daughter is bleeding badly. Let me help her—then I’ll go. Otherwise, your daughter may die.”

“She is not your concern. Leave with the baby, before I change my mind.”

“It’s okay,” Evelyn said, her voice quiet and shaky but strong, too, and more powerful than ever before. “Save my daughter. She’s all that matters.”

The midwife nodded, cradled the baby closer in her arms, and fled, casting one last terrified glance back at Duke as she went. Evelyn’s heart ached worse than the physical pain she felt. Her daughter, the one she’d lived with for the last few months, disappeared through the doorway. Evelyn had been sure that once the baby was born, everything would be okay. Now, her illusions were shattered.

Evelyn imagined the midwife and the baby in the cold, starless night outside. She heard an anguished scream in the cold room and realized only after a moment that it was her own voice. The baby had been Evelyn’s one hope at true familial love, both towards her daughter and from her father. She’d rested all her dreams on giving the baby a better life than her own. The only thing that mattered in this world was her daughter. Evelyn wanted, desperately, to keep her, but knowing that she was away from Duke and safe would have to be enough.

Slowly, Duke turned to Evelyn. He crossed the room until he loomed over the bed, his outline flickering in the light of the oil lanterns. The metallic tang of blood in the air was stronger now, and Evelyn’s vision began to blur. All she could see was the imposing figure of her father.

“What’s going to happen to her?” Evelyn asked. The whole world grew blurry, as though she were looking through the surface of a pond. Duke didn’t answer. Instead, he slowly shook his head then turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Evelyn tried again to get out of bed, using her arms to stabilize herself and scrabbling with her feet against the bloodstained sheets, but she couldn’t find the strength. The whole room was going in and out of focus now, and when she caught sight of the bed, the rivulet of blood had turned into a lake. The pain in her abdomen was so intense that she could barely breathe.

I’ll rest for a moment, she thought hazily. Then I shall find her. Please, watch over her until I can. The bed rushed up to meet Evelyn as the world faded into blackness. Evelyn’s last conscious thought was of her daughter, with those beautiful hazel eyes and the strong, brave cry. She would be well—even if Evelyn wasn’t.

Chapter One

Twenty-two years later, May 1885

Willow Creek, Montana Territory

 

The bright smell of flowers and fresh dirt surrounded Daisy Barnes. She knelt on the ground in her family’s small garden, soaking in the scents of late spring and the sounds of birds chirping in the near distance. A few strands of her chestnut hair came loose from the ribbon she’d used to tie it back, but Daisy didn’t dare tuck her hair behind her ear. She’d appeared for dinner with streaks of dirt on her pale cheeks too many times from doing that—and faced her father’s scoldings because of it

“Pick a few of the forget-me-nots, sweetheart,” Daisy’s mother, Ruth Barnes, called to her. They were working in the garden together in one of their quiet moments of companionship. Despite her mother’s love, Daisy often felt stifled in the Barnes’s stately house. Out here, in the garden, she was as free as the red squirrels and deer that sometimes raced across their property.

“They will look lovely at the dinner table,” Daisy agreed, gathering a few of the small blue flowers. Though Ruth cultivated a variety of flowers, from roses to geraniums, she insisted on having some flowers native to their area in the garden, from forget-me-nots to scarlet paintbrushes to bergamot and chamomile. She’d told Daisy many times that the flowers represented the family’s connection to this patch of Earth.

Daisy’s mother reached for a small patch of daisies that had sprung up amidst the cultivated flowers. She picked one flower and held it up to the sunlight.

“Do you know why we called you Daisy?” Ruth asked. She stood, picked her way across the garden, and came to kneel beside Daisy.

“Tell me again,” Daisy said. She loved her mother’s stories, especially the one about her own name.

“Look at the daisy,” Ruth said, holding up the one she’d just plucked. The white petals looked as clean as starched linen, while the yellow center glowed like sunshine. “We did not plant it here. We did not help it grow. But still, it flourishes. The daisy may look delicate, but it is strong, just like you. It flourishes wherever it lands, even if the soil is dry or the rains don’t come.”

Daisy smiled at her mother. Ruth Barnes was tall and had fair blonde hair, unlike Daisy’s own chestnut curls. Even her eyes were different—bright blue, instead of hazel like Daisy’s. Still, whenever Daisy looked at her mother, she knew that they were the same where it mattered, on the inside. They both loved nature. They both loved God. They both felt most at peace when they were alone together in the garden. Being out here always reminded Daisy of a verse from Isaiah: “The mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.” On days like today, she could easily imagine the hills singing and the trees clapping for her.

“Daisy!”

Both women turned towards the sharp male voice. Frank Barnes, Daisy’s father, stood in the doorway. His face was its usual unreadable mask. He was a commanding man, with blond hair, green eyes, and an impeccable sense of dress and decorum. With his imposing height and stern expression, he often seemed more like a strict schoolteacher than a father. Daisy glanced at her mother, who gave her a look she couldn’t quite read. Was it sadness? Guilt? Worry pooled in her stomach as her mother looked back down at the soil of the garden.

“Yes, father?” Daisy called.

“Come inside.” The order was sharp, abrupt, and left no room for argument. Daisy got to her feet and brushed the dirt from the knees of the plain brown work dress she wore in the garden. Usually, she would have changed before meeting her father to avoid comments about ‘at least trying to look acceptable.’ Now, though, she simply hurried inside. She didn’t want to keep her father waiting.

Inside the house, the air was still and dusty. Daisy longed for the open blue skies and flowers of her garden. She followed her father into the sitting room. The room was immaculately clean—Frank Barnes employed a housekeeper to maintain their home without a speck of dust and a maid to cook their meals. Though his work as a clerk wasn’t particularly prestigious, he spoke often of the Barnes’s family legacy and the name—and wealth—he’d inherited from his own parents.

Daisy wished her dress wasn’t streaked with dirt from her time outside. Frank would surely take the opportunity to express his disappointment in her.

“Well,” Frank said, sitting on the settee across from her. All the chairs and settees in the room were floral patterned and topped with lacy doilies, and the walls were hung with portraits of past Barneses. The whole room gave the impression that anyone inside was on display. Frank folded his hands together and swept a disdainful gaze over his daughter. “Must I remind you again that Barneses are not farmers? You must try to look like a lady, Daisy.”

“I am sorry, Father.” She bowed her head. There was no point arguing with Frank Barnes. A hundred times before, she had argued for what she wanted, whether that was a chance to continue her education in the local schoolhouse or some money to help a local charity that supported orphans. A hundred times, no matter how hard she argued, her father’s sneering manner and cold replies stopped her short. In those moments, Daisy felt as unwelcome as a stray speck of dust—and in the end, she always acquiesced to what her father wanted

“Well, you always were like this.” Frank sat up a little straighter. “I have called you here to share some news. The time has come for you to be married.”

Daisy’s hands suddenly felt shaky, her chest tightened, and it was all she could do not to cry out in surprise. Married? At twenty-two, she was certainly of marriageable age, but her father had never mentioned an arrangement before. Nor had her mother. This was the first time anyone in the family had spoken of it.

Daisy herself had thought about marriage a few times in the past. When she was younger, she’d often liked to imagine a future in which she found a man she loved and started a family, but as she’d grown older, that had seemed less and less likely. After all, most of her time was spent at home. She had few chances to meet a man or fall in love – and she didn’t like the idea of settling for a distant, loveless marriage like the one her parents shared. Growing old as a spinster would be better than marrying someone cruel like her father or brother. Now, it seemed her opportunity to choose her own path, or at least have a say in the process, was being taken away from her.

“Married?” Daisy asked. The single word came out sharp, and her father replied with one of his usual barbs.

“Do not gawk like that.” Frank gave her a disapproving look, and Daisy schooled her expression. “Yes, you will be married. I have some debts to settle and have made an arrangement. You shall cook, clean, and keep the house.”

“Father,” Daisy said. Her knees felt suddenly weak, and her heart was racing. She hadn’t even known that her father had debts. They lived in a well-maintained home and rarely went without—how much debt could there be? And was her marriage truly the only way to settle it? Surely, this wasn’t true. “Please, I—”

“No arguing,” Frank replied curtly. His face contorted into something that perhaps should have been a comforting smile, though it more resembled a sneer. “The matter is decided.”

Daisy took a deep breath. “Father, I understand that I am of the age to be married, but I had hoped to—”

“This is not a matter for discussion. You are but a child and you shall do as I say.”

“Father—”

“This is becoming tedious.”

Daisy gathered herself. Her chest ached with unshed tears, and her hands were fisted in her skirts, but she couldn’t let either gesture show. Displays of emotion didn’t work on her father. Even now, she was trying to be the daughter he wanted. Despite everything, she’d always believed that he loved her and that he wanted the best for her. Now, her heart was racing and panic set in. Frank only wanted what was best for himself. She desperately wanted to talk to her mother about all this. Had she known what her father had planned? Had her brother known?

“Let me speak. Please.” Daisy’s hands fisted more tightly in her skirts, though she kept her tone calm. A hundred times, she’d stepped back and let things go to keep the peace in her family by giving up her dreams of school or charity. But she couldn’t do that now, not when it was her whole future in question. “When will this happen?

“I’m not yet sure. But as your marriage will settle my debts, I believe an expedient process would be beneficial for all. You will also be able to settle into your new home.”

“I wish to have a say in what will happen to me. At least let me choose when I will go.” Daisy knew she was repeating herself, but she had to keep trying. She couldn’t simply let go.

“That won’t be possible.” Frank was as dismissive as always. “This is a matter to be settled between men.”

Those words made Daisy’s fists clench tighter, but she needed to focus on practical matters. Her father was letting her speak, and she needed to take advantage of that. She gathered herself to ask her father another of the many questions that spun through her head like dandelion seeds, but he spoke first.

“You may go.” Frank waved a hand dismissively. The interaction was over —this was made especially clear when he picked up the paper he’d been looking at and turned his gaze from her.

“I still—”

“You may go.” His tone hardened.

Daisy got to her feet, though her legs shook with the weight of what had just happened. She wanted to shout. She wanted to beg her father to reconsider. Yet she knew it would be futile—it was just as had happened when her father denied her further schooling or money for charity. As she stood near the door, she paused and returned one last time to her father, hoping to change his mind. But when she saw him working, not even glancing her way, she simply asked…

“Perhaps you could tell me something about my… husband?” At least she could know what she was facing.

“He owns a ranch. He will be able to support you. Go.” Frank waved his hand again to punctuate the force of the last word, and Daisy fled, her steps a little too quick to be proper. She hurried back into the garden. If she could just find her mother, all would be well. Certainly, this was some kind of misunderstanding. Her lungs burned as she raced down the steps, barely noticing the warm summer sunshine.

Ruth was still in the garden. She sat on the small wooden bench on the far side, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes closed in prayer. Daisy usually admired her mother’s calm, but today it was almost irritating. So much hurt and confusion were swirling within her that it was hard to believe it was the same peaceful, sunny day outside as before.

“Mama!” Daisy called, hurrying towards her mother. She’d gathered her skirts into one hand to move more quickly. Ruth’s eyes opened, and her brow furrowed. She stood and opened her arms—and Daisy ran into them. Her mother smelled like fresh laundry and home, as she always had.

“Did you know Father was planning to marry me off?” Daisy asked. She pulled back from the hug to meet her mother’s eyes. She silently begged her mother to help her understand. “He said I am to be married. Please, tell me this is a mistake.”

But Ruth’s solemn expression told Daisy that there was no mistake. She was truly to be married to a stranger. “Your father is correct.” She stumbled over her words, and tears sprang to her eyes. Her mother always tried to protect her but, like Daisy, she’d often been overruled by Frank in the end. His presence loomed in the house.

“Mama?” Daisy whispered, her heart aching. This couldn’t be true. Her mother would have told her if her father were planning this. They had always been honest with each other. Hadn’t they? “No.”

“I am sorry, sweetheart.” Ruth took her daughter’s hands. “I tried to convince him not to do this, but he refused to listen to me. It seems that this marriage is the only way to settle his debts. I begged him to reconsider…” Tears gathered in her soft blue eyes. Usually, Daisy would have rushed to comfort her mother, but she didn’t today. The betrayal still stung too much.

“I don’t understand,” she said. She shook her head and stepped away, pulling her hands free from her mother’s. Ruth’s face fell at the gesture. “I didn’t even know he had debts.”

“Nor did I,” Ruth replied. “He didn’t tell me until today, when he informed me that you were to be married.”

“Do you know a single thing about the man I am to marry?” Daisy asked. It felt difficult to breathe.

“I—I only know that he’s a rancher and an acquaintance of your father.” Ruth managed a smile, but her whole posture was closed off. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and her eyes showed the weight of the situation. “I’ve asked around, and I have heard that he’s a good man. This isn’t what I would have chosen for you, sweetheart, but we must trust that God has a plan for us, even when it doesn’t seem like it.”

“What am I meant to do?” Her voice broke with the weight of her unknown future.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You are a daisy. You’ll flourish wherever you’re planted—and the Lord will always watch over you.” Ruth pulled her daughter close for another warm hug. Daisy let her, even though her heart still ached.

Yet even her mother’s comforting words and gentle arms weren’t enough to ease her worries. She wasn’t sure she could flourish where she was planted. She always tried to be adaptable and make the best of things, but now, everything seemed to be for naught. How could she adapt to something so unexpected? And how could her mother not have warned her? Worse, neither Daisy nor her mother could stop this. Her father had decided—and that was final.

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    • Her story is one I wrote with a lot of care and love.🙏🏻 Let me know what you think once you read it, Karen!🌞

    • Great news, Clara: it’s just been released!🥳 You can grab it now—hope it blesses you.🙏🏻

  • Does Daisy even know she is adopted? This is a beginning for many paths and the way she treats people she comes in contact with.

    • Ah, now that’s a wonderful question, Rita… You’ll have to read on to see how her story unfolds!🤗

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