Texas Angel, 2-in-1 Read online

  TEXAS

  ANGEL

  Praise for

  JUDITH PELLA’S

  Texas Angel and Heaven’s Road

  Judith Pella in Texas Angel shows how two extreme lifestyles come together and are drastically touched by God’s love.

  —Christian Library Journal

  “ ”

  Historical fiction fans will love this offering from Pella.

  —Church Libraries, about Texas Angel

  “ ”

  You’ll be riveted by this remarkable tale of adventure and romance that brings life to the courageous pioneers and the magnificence of God’s plan.

  —Crossings, about Texas Angel

  “ ”

  Judith Pella’s Texas Angel sweeps you back to the Old West where romance and adventure await you.

  —Christianbook.com

  “ ”

  As one would expect, Ms. Pella’s skillful pen has given us another memorable story. Never one to disappoint, she always creates characters with such depth, you believe they really lived.

  —Rendezvous, about Heaven’s Road

  TWO BESTSELLING NOVELS

  IN One Volume

  TEXAS

  ANGEL

  Also includes

  HEAVEL'S ROAD

  JUDITH PELLA

  Texas Angel

  Copyright © 1999, 2000

  Judith Pella

  Published previously in two separate volumes:

  Texas Angel ©1999

  Heaven’s Road ©2000

  Cover illustration by William Graf/Paul Higdon

  Cover design by Paul Higdon

  Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Published by Bethany House Publishers

  11400 Hampshire Avenue South

  Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

  Bethany House Publishers is a division of

  Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Pella, Judith.

  Texas angel / by Judith Pella.

  p. cm.

  ISBN 978-0-7642-0565-1 (pbk.)

  1. Texas—Fiction. I. Pella, Judith. Heaven’s road. II. Title. III. Title: Heaven’s road.

  PS3566.E415T495 2008

  813'.54—dc22

  2008028160

  CONTENTS

  TEXAS ANGEL

  PART ONE: APRIL 1834

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  PART TWO: LATE SUMMER 1842

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  PART THREE: SPRING 1844

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  PART FOUR: MAY 1835

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAPTER 48

  CHAPTER 49

  CHAPTER 50

  CHAPTER 51

  CHAPTER 52

  PART FIVE: OCTOBER 1835

  CHAPTER 53

  CHAPTER 54

  CHAPTER 55

  CHAPTER 56

  CHAPTER 57

  CHAPTER 58

  HEAVEN'S ROAD

  PART ONE : EARLY SUMMER 1842

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  PART TWO : LATE SUMMER 1842

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  PART 3 : SPRING 1844

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  JUDITH PELA is the author of several historical fiction series, both on her own and in collaboration with Michael Phillips and Tracie Peterson. The extraordinary seven-book series, THE RUSSIANS, the first three written with Phillips, showcases her creativity and skill as a historian as well as a fiction writer. A Bachelor of Arts degree in social studies, along with a career in nursing and teaching, lend depth to her storytelling abilities, providing readers with memorable novels in a variety of genres. She and her family make their home in northern California.

  Books by

  Judith Pella

  Beloved Stranger

  The Stonewycke Trilogy*

  Texas Angel

  Mark of the Cross

  Daughters of Fortune

  Written on the Wind

  Somewhere a Song

  Toward the Sunrise

  Homeward My Heart

  Patchwork Circle

  Bachelor’s Puzzle

  Sister’s Choice

  *with Michael Phillips

  TEXAS

  ANGEL

  PART ONE

  APRIL 1834

  CHAPTER

  1

  THE TERRIBLE SECRET WAS OUT. Elise Toussaint Hearne had hoped for more than merely a year of wedded bliss before her happy life shattered. In fact, even now she sat alone in her room, still hoping somehow there would be a way to salvage it. Maybe she would not be summoned to answer for her awful lie. Perhaps her husband, Kendell, would show mercy on her for the sake of his love and for the child she had borne him.

  When he had confronted her an hour ago with the incriminating documents, which she so poorly denied, he had been in complete shock. As he shambled from her room, shoulders hunched forward like a broken man, she had not been able to venture even a guess at what he would do next. She had simply hovered silently in her room, now nearly pitch dark since the sun had set behind the woods dominating the west side of the Hearne plantation. Perhaps Kendell had gone into town to get drunk. When he sobered up in the morning, he’d have a better perspective.

&nbs
p; But Elise feared her husband had gone instead to where he always went when he had problems: to his parents—his mother specifically.

  Was it possible they would discount the papers as mere slander, lies that were so apt to surface at election time? And if they believed the papers, would they show mercy on their daughter-in-law, for whom they had developed some fondness in the time she had been married to their son and living in their home?

  Not likely.

  William Hearne cared only about becoming governor of South Carolina. He liked Elise, but his ambitions came first. Nevertheless, it was not he who worried Elise as much as her mother-in-law did. Daphne Hearne had little love for Elise, for no one was good enough for her only son. Lately Mother Hearne had become more tolerant because Elise had proven herself of some worth by bearing a sweet granddaughter. Elise shuddered at how quickly that toleration would cease when she learned of the horrible deception Elise had carried into her marriage.

  The clock on the mantel struck nine, and Elise gasped at the intrusive sound that sent her heart racing like a panicked horse. Kendell had been gone over an hour. What was he doing? Where had he gone? And what of her plight? How could she face the terrible consequences of what she had done?

  Elise shivered as a breeze lifted the lace curtain on the window. But it wasn’t the cold of the spring night that made her tremble so. Her terror arose from the dreadful reality that her sweet life was about to change forever. She must face the possibility that she could lose everything. The man she loved, her child—oh, dear God, not my child!

  “I mustn’t think that way,” she muttered, pulling a quilt over her icy cold body as she lay on her bed, knees curled up against her chest, as if for protection. But she found no comfort. The warmth of the covers could not penetrate the bone-deep chill of her fear.

  A knock at the door startled Elise again. She groaned inwardly but said nothing. Maybe whoever it was would think her asleep and go away. But the dreaded sound came again.

  “Miz Elise, the massa wants to see you,” called Carrie, Elise’s maid.

  Still Elise remained silent. How odd to feel so vulnerable in her own home, her own bedroom. She had come to love the Hearne plantation, located just outside of Charleston. She had never known a real home, and in spite of Daphne’s contentious nature, she had come to think of this place as such. The Hearnes were a real family. They cared about each other. Kendell’s sisters, two of them, came often to visit. Even the slaves seemed happy and content.

  Elise’s hope of reprieve plummeted again when the door opened. Like a coward, she squeezed her eyes shut as if that would block out reality, but she knew the slave had come into the room and was walking toward the bed.

  “Miz Elise, he says it don’t matter if you are asleep. You gots to come.”

  Elise groaned out loud this time. “I . . . am not feeling well.”

  “He says it don’t matter. He will come after you if he must. He’s right distraught.”

  Elise debated on further resistance. Let him come up and drag her from her bed. What did it matter? Her life was over anyway. But an image sprang to her mind of such a scene—her flailing and screaming, his sweating and cursing, the whole house privy to her disgrace.

  No, if she must fall, she would do so with dignity. There was still a small chance of reprieve.

  “All right, Carrie. I will be down in a minute.”

  “Can I help you with anything, ma’am?”

  “No, I can manage. You may leave now.” When the slave hesitated, Elise added with as reassuring a tone as she could feign, “I will come. Don’t worry.”

  Carrie left, and Elise crawled from her bed feeling as if she were leaving the only safe haven she would ever know. She went to her dressing table and lit a candle. The reflection that greeted her in the oval mirror was dim and shadowed. How very appropriate, she thought. But even the shadows could not hide the pallor of her skin nor the dark circles under her eyes. She pinched her cheeks in a useless attempt to give the appearance of health. She also tried to put her rumpled hair into some order by gathering the mass of thick dark curls—Much too dark! Much too curly!—and twisting them into a knot, which she fixed to the back of her head with a comb. The effect was severe, emphasizing her present ashen look, but perhaps that would work to her advantage. Finally, she straightened her navy blue linen day dress. It had been a mistake to take to her bed fully clothed.

  Then, taking a deep, determined breath, she headed for the door and the fate that awaited her.

  CHAPTER

  2

  THEY WERE WAITING FOR HER IN THE DRAWING ROOM. Mother Hearne was seated on the satin divan, dressed in matronly brown taffeta. She looked the picture of southern virtue and womanhood. She was an attractive woman with light brown hair, a long aristocratic nose, and cold blue eyes. Elise tried to avoid those eyes as she entered the room but felt them fixed firmly upon her, laden with reproach.

  Kendell was standing by the hearth. His eyes, blue like his mother’s but not cold at all, were now purposefully averted from his wife. Elise, too, avoided looking at him, not wanting to witness again the tortured pain she was certain still resided there. He was a genteel man, and it had been that quality more than his rather plain and nondescript looks that had won Elise’s heart. Some interpreted his soft-spoken, kindly nature as weakness. Indeed, he was not an aggressive, forceful man. But Elise refused to believe he was truly weak. Still, she had been barely eighteen when they had married, so in love and blind to reality. Now she feared that particular reality was about to be her undoing.

  It was William Hearne who spoke first. “Elise, please be seated.” His tone was stern but not harsh.

  Elise didn’t want to sit, but neither did she want to begin this interview by disobeying her father-in-law. She thus sat on the very edge of a ladder.back chair, positioned so that she had a direct view of William when she looked straight ahead, but little of her husband or mother-in-law. Father Hearne seemed the safest refuge for the moment.

  He was seated by a small table that held a decanter and glasses. In his hand he held a glass of bourbon, his drink of preference.

  With his free hand, Hearne held up the envelope Elise had seen earlier. “You are familiar with this?”

  She nodded.

  “What have you to say for yourself?”

  “It is a lie,” she replied, silently cursing the fact that she could not make her voice sound convincing.

  “I do not deny the malicious intent of these papers,” Hearne said. “They could well damage my political aspirations. I do not want to believe them.”

  “Then don’t,” Elise answered desperately. “Burn them, and the entire matter will soon be forgotten. Why give place to those who would deal in dirty politics?”

  “This goes far beyond politics,” Daphne said. “We cannot blithely ignore this thing. The very name of our family could be blackened forever.”

  That was a poor choice of words, and everyone knew it. A heavy silence fell upon the little group. Elise stared at her hands folded primly in her lap.

  Finally William spoke. “Do you know of the painting mentioned in the letter?”

  “No. There are no paintings of my mother. My parents were never so wealthy that they could afford such extravagances.”

  “Yet the painting was in your father’s possession before it was forfeited in a game of chance.”

  Ah, Papa! Elise had always known her father’s gambling habit would come to no good. The letter in William’s hand told how Dorian Tous.saint had paid off a debt with the deed to his modest property in New Orleans. Somehow the painting had been left behind in the house, which was careless even for Papa. It was, in the words of the letter, “A very touching family portrait” of Dorian Toussaint and a woman of tan complexion holding a very young infant. Elise herself had never seen it and, until the arrival of the letter, had not known of its existence. Papa had been so careful to keep his wife’s true identity a secret. But he was old now, and his mind was often muddl
ed by strong spirits.

  William went on as if his daughter-in-law had not read the letter herself. “The house and its contents came into the possession of Maurice Thomson. Your father’s likeness in the painting is easily identifiable and undeniable. But Mr. Thomson also recognized the woman seated in front of your father. She was obviously his wife.”

  Even in her present distress, Elise found herself wondering about the woman in the painting and longed for a chance to see it. Her mother had died when she was only a few months old, so Elise had never known her. What did she look like? Was she as beautiful as her father always said? She must have been for him to have risked so much to marry her.

  Suddenly an inspiration struck Elise. “Who is to say the woman in the painting is my mother?”

  “Your mother’s name was Claire, was it not? That name is inscribed with your father’s name on the back of the portrait. But Mr. Thomson is sending it to us that we may judge for ourselves.”

  “That is most kind of him,” Elise replied dryly.

  “Thomson makes a strong claim,” William continued, pointedly ignoring her words. “He says the woman named Claire Toussaint was once named Jewel and was his property. He claims your mother was a runaway slave.”

  It was the first time anyone had dared to speak the word slave out loud. It had the force of a blow, and Elise winced at the sound of it. Her reserve, which she had been clutching as desperately as a drowning person grasps a floating log, began to crumble.