The Scars of a Pure Heart Read online

  The Scars of a Pure Heart

  AN INSPIRATIONAL ROMANCE NOVEL

  GRACE CLEMENS

  Copyright © 2020 by Grace Clemens

  All Rights Reserved.

  This book may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the written permission of the publisher.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher.

  Table of Contents

  The Scars of a Pure Heart 1

  Table of Contents 3

  The Scars of a Pure Heart 6

  Introduction 7

  Chapter 1 10

  Chapter 2 23

  Chapter 3 36

  Chapter 4 50

  Chapter 5 66

  Chapter 6 79

  Chapter 7 92

  Chapter 8 105

  Chapter 9 120

  Chapter 10 137

  Chapter 11 149

  Chapter 12 163

  Chapter 13 175

  Chapter 14 189

  Chapter 15 201

  Chapter 16 214

  Chapter 17 228

  Chapter 18 241

  Chapter 19 256

  Chapter 20 268

  Chapter 21 280

  Chapter 22 292

  Chapter 23 305

  Chapter 24 318

  Chapter 25 332

  Chapter 26 348

  Chapter 27 361

  Chapter 28 373

  Chapter 29 386

  Chapter 30 399

  Chapter 31 413

  Chapter 32 427

  Chapter 33 441

  Chapter 34 457

  Chapter 35 471

  Chapter 36 486

  Chapter 37 502

  Chapter 38 519

  The Scars of a Pure Heart

  Introduction

  Macie Sheldon tries to come to terms with her family’s death from smallpox, still confronting her face’s scars from the disease every day. Visiting their old homestead one more time seems to be the only way to deal with her loss and move forward. Her last hopes of finding peace before building a home for herself will be answered sooner than she expected when Blake Bradifield’s mail order bride advertisement will be her passageway back to Texas! But this seemingly simple plan will end up being a dangerous challenge. What are the secrets that will soon be revealed, mingling her in an unprecedented situation? Will she find closure and deal with her deep grief and insecurities?

  For Blake Bradfield, losing his grandfather feels like the whole world is falling apart, as he has been his hero since he was a boy. His family has never approved of his grandfather’s adventurous life and his choice to abandon their home to treasure hunt. However, Blake seems to be cut from the same cloth. When he discovers that his grandfather has left behind hints for one last treasure hunt his life turns upside down. What he doesn’t expect though is that his late hero has some hidden surprises for him that will change everything. Will he manage to comply with the will’s unexpected stipulations? Will Macie be eager to help him heal his own wounds? Will love ever be an option for them?

  Macie and Blake have experienced painful losses that have stigmatized their hearts and souls. However together they can get stronger and overcome any difficulty ahead. Will they set aside their dreams as they embrace something far bigger and sweeter than they could ever imagine? How could a treasure hunt bring their hearts together beyond any other ambition?

  Chapter 1

  Elmswood, Texas - December 1884

  The weather outside the simple clapboard church was appropriately cold and miserable on the day of Ewell Bradfield’s funeral. At least his grandson, Blake, found it appropriate. From his rough wooden pew, Blake wiggled his shoulders unconsciously, trying to find a bit of relief from his too-tight suit coat.

  Unfortunately, Blake had a feeling that he was the only one who was really in the right frame of mind for this solemn occasion. Up in the pulpit, Reverend Samuelson was droning on and on about the loss of a “beloved father” who “lived life to the fullest.”

  The glib comments could have been about anyone and hardly painted the vivid picture that was Ewell Bradfield. It took all of Blake’s self-control not to get up and walk out. But it wasn’t the parson’s fault that Granddad hadn’t been around much, and Blake didn’t want to be rude.

  So, he tuned out the generic sermon and eyed the rest of his family, trying to guess what was going on behind their careful masks.

  Blake’s father, Len Bradfield, sat with his hands folded and his eyes serious. It didn’t take much clever detecting for Blake to know what his father was thinking. Len was undoubtedly carrying on a diatribe against his own father, railing at him for abandoning the family and the ranch in order to go adventuring.

  After his wife died fifteen years back, Ewell had up and left the burden of running the Yellow Rose Ranch to his only son, Len. Then he’d packed a rucksack and taken off for parts unknown, claiming that he’d always itched to go exploring.

  As a boy of seven, Blake had found this incredibly exciting. He’d taken to playing explorers whenever he was released from his lessons and didn’t have any chores to do. This enthusiasm for adventuring had only been fueled by Ewell’s sporadic visits home and tall tales of thrilling escapades which he told to his captive audience of one.

  Blake had plenty of memories of Len and Ewell’s heated arguments over the years. The weight of running the ranch had fallen squarely on Len, who angrily demanded that Ewell stop his foolishness and come home. But Ewell would look wistfully at the chair his late wife used to occupy and would insist he couldn’t stay.

  So, now, Len was most likely taking advantage of his father’s inability to argue back. From the tightening of Len’s jaw, Blake knew he had guessed right. Poor old Granddad was getting the mental lambasting of his life.

  Next to Len sat his wife, Judy. Tears streamed down her cheeks in what appeared to be a proper attitude of mourning. And, while Blake knew his mother’s motives were pure, there was more to her grief than just sadness that her father-in-law was gone. Judy was nothing if not a peacemaker, and now there was no chance that things could be smoothed over between Ewell and Len.

  Blake peeked over at his older brother, Troy, who had an arm around his wife Clora. Next to the pair of them sat the youngest of the Bradfield boys, Harris. Irritably, Blake noted that both of his brothers bore twin expressions of mild boredom. They were both trying, and failing, to show their grandfather the proper respect he deserved.

  Neither of his brothers had joined Blake in idolizing their grandfather. Harris could be convinced to join in and play a round of explorers now and again. However, he was more interested in chasing Troy over to the corral and riding horses.

  Where Blake admired Granddad, Harris and Troy admired the cowhands employed by the Yellow Rose Ranch and their father who owned such a grand place. Neither of Blake’s brothers needed to go adventuring; the ranch was plenty of adventure as far as they were concerned.

  Clora’s hand moved automatically to her rounding belly and Blake felt his ears heat up. It wouldn’t be long before his sister-in-law would have to enter her confinement. She had only recently confided in Judy that a new baby was on the way. Judy had informed her husband and younger sons in a whisper, as such things weren’t spoken of out loud. Blake could hardly look at his sister-in-law without getting flustered.

  Once she grew big enough to make concealing her delicate condition impossible, Clora would stop going out in public until after the baby came. Blake recalled the months she’d spent out of sight after his brother’
s first baby had been born.

  Granted, Blake loved his nephew, Troy Junior. The little fellow was already a year old and had gone straight from crawling to running. No wonder Clora looked so tired all the time. A grin almost split Blake’s grim expression at the thought of small TJ. But then he reflected on the fact that this new baby was unlikely to be named for his treasured great-grandfather, thanks to Troy’s adopting of Len’s criticism of the older man, and Blake’s frown deepened.

  By the time the reverend wrapped up his sermonizing, Blake was jiggling his long legs and itching to get out to where his dark thoughts could get a good airing. Still, he had to stand through a fair number of neighbors and acquaintances who wanted to offer their condolences.

  “Ewell was a good man and a good neighbor,” whistled wrinkled Howard Trudeau. “’Course, he turned sorta funny at the end, but losing yer wife will do that to a man.”

  Blake nodded curtly and accepted the older man’s weak hand clasp.

  “I know this must be ever so hard on you, Blake,” cooed elderly Mrs. Munson. “You were glued to your grandfather’s legs any time he was home, weren’t you? It’s too bad that he didn’t give up his foolishness and stay closer to the home place.”

  Miss Trudy, the fearsome old schoolmarm, snorted and snapped, “Ewell Bradfield never found a single treasure in all his seeking. He didn’t learn his lesson, so I hope you do. Don’t waste your life gallivanting about looking for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow!”

  Finally, temper dangerously close to breaking point, Blake extricated himself from the crowd and stalked outside to where his horse was tethered.

  It was quiet outside the church and Blake gulped cold air, which seared his lungs all the way down. Why didn’t anyone understand his grandfather’s desire to get out of this wretched town? Was it really so hard to believe that someone might want to get away from these small-minded people and the dreariness of their mundane lives?

  Tears filled Blake’s eyes as he remembered sitting at Granddad’s knee, listening raptly to the stories of sleeping under the stars and seeing faraway places. No story in a book could ever be as thrilling to Blake as Ewell’s tales of searching for treasure. It made his heart ache to think of how alone his grandfather was, even when he was among his family, with no one to share his lust for exploring except a small boy.

  Ashamed, Blake swiped gruffly at his eyes. Needing to think of happier thoughts, he recalled the fun he’d had following the treasure maps Granddad had left for him whenever he went off on an adventure. It softened the blow of his leaving for young Blake, who would spend half a day deciphering mysterious clues and pacing off the distance spelled out on the hand-drawn maps Granddad would leave for him. Though it had been years since Blake had been left a map, he was suddenly struck with the realization that no more would be coming and felt as if a hole had been punched right through his gut.

  “Come back inside, boy,” called Len.

  Blake turned, startled. He’d been so lost in thought and grief that he hadn’t heard his father’s approach from the rear.

  “I needed some air,” Blake explained.

  Len sighed wearily and nodded. “I know this is especially hard on you.”

  It was Blake’s turn to clench his jaw. Len’s own father had just died and he acted as though it was just some distant relative he hardly knew who was in that pine box at the front of the church.

  Blake opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the oily, loathsome voice of the very despicable Lucien Durning.

  “Sorry to hear about your father, Bradfield,” Lucien oozed.

  Both Bradfield men turned as one and glared at the businessman. Lucien Durning stood there looking innocuous as always. The middle-aged man was of average height and sported an ever-growing paunch around the middle. He was cherub-faced and balding, and always looked to Blake like someone’s jolly uncle.

  But underneath that mild exterior was a calculating man who was fueled by ambition and avarice. It was Lucien Durning who had funded the Silver Dollar Saloon and hounded the town council until they’d passed an ordinance allowing for Mrs. Roundtree and her girls to set up shop upstairs. Between whiskey, gambling, and girls for purchase, the Silver Dollar had caused more trouble for local cowboys than all the rattlesnakes in Texas.

  And now, Lucien was rumored to be buying up land left and right all around Elmswood. Ranching was hard work and not all spreads survived the harsh conditions. The Bradfields had discussed that topic during mealtimes on several occasions. They didn’t resent their neighbors who’d given up and sold their land to Lucien at pennies on the dollar. Though, Blake couldn’t figure out for the life of him why the businessman was acquiring so much land.

  “I hate to talk business when you’re in mourning,” Lucien said with a failed attempt at regret on his face, “but I don’t know when I’ll see you again. My offer still stands, Bradfield. The Yellow Rose is a fine ranch and I’ll give you a good price for the whole operation.”

  Blake eyed his father. He’d heard Len rant about Lucien’s so-called “good price.” The first time he’d made an offer, it had been absurdly low. Then, to add insult to injury, Lucien had merely smiled at Len’s refusal and promised he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Sure enough, he’d been back half a dozen times, increasing the price a tiny bit and always refusing to be put off.

  “My father just died, Durning,” Len said through gritted teeth. “It’s disgusting that you would dare to approach me about such things at a time like this.”

  Lucien tipped his hat. “Of course, of course. Terribly sorry. It’s just that everyone in town knows that you and your father had a falling out. I naturally assumed that you weren’t particularly grieved by his passing. I suppose you’re more sentimental than I gave you credit for.”

  “Not sentimental, just human,” Len growled. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, of course. Your kind slithers out from under rocks back east.”

  The insult bounced off Lucien’s too-tight suit without leaving much of an impact.

  “That’ll be your grief talking, I suppose. I’ll let it slide this time. You should remember that I always get my way. Always.” And somehow, Lucien’s round face became menacing.

  The other two men watched the rotund businessman stride away as though he owned the world. And, Blake noted grudgingly, when it came to Elmswood, Texas, Lucien Durning pretty much did.

  Len shook his head angrily, hands on his hips. “I’ve tried to be a patient man, but I’ve seen too many fancy fellows from the East Coast breeze into Texas thinking they’ll make their fortunes here. They last a year or two before they miss the soft life back in New York or Boston. All they want is to scoop up land real cheap and sell it for top dollar. I’ve heard plenty of stories about that sort of thing. It takes a genuine Texan to sink in roots and make a life out here.”

  “Lucien Durning’s been here more than two years,” Blake pointed out. He’d heard his father’s loyal Texan speech more times than he could remember and was in no mood to humor him today of all days.

  “He’s cut from the same cloth,” replied Len dismissively.

  Blake turned and watched as the businessman entered the Silver Dollar Saloon halfway down the street from the church. It would be a waste of breath to argue with his father, but Blake had a feeling that the older man was wrong when it came to Lucien. He was in Elmswood for more than just a quick profit. There was something sinister about that fellow that always put Blake on edge. Whatever he was up to, Lucien Durning needed careful watching.

  Chapter 2

  It was only a few days later when Blake found himself back in town, heaving a barrel of oats onto the ranch’s wagon. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the task, but ever since his grandfather’s death, every chore seemed to rub the young man the wrong way. And this particular duty left him in a blacker mood than any other.

  Nelson’s Mercantile had been doing business with the Yellow Rose Ranch since it hung up its shing
le. Ewell had always boasted that Amos Nelson was a straight shooter and had never wavered in his loyalty. Now, once a month, a representative from the ranch would trundle to town and load up the wagon with supplies.

  It was a hot, tiring job no matter the time of year. The coat that Blake had huddled in not an hour before lay forgotten on the wagon seat. However, it wasn’t the hard work that bothered the young Texan. He was used to hard work and hot weather after a lifetime of ranch work. No, it was Miss Belle Nelson that made this particular task so onerous.