his hopes.
His wife knew of Abigail and the boy, but women accepted such things without comment. And he kept to his vow not to resume his affair once a legitimate heir was produced.
He hadn’t meant to hurt either his wife or his son with his blatant favoritism, but Reeve, without trying to, far overshadowed his half brother. He was strong as an ox, courageous to a fault, honorable and dependable as the day was long. He understood the land, and the livestock loved him. The perfect son in all but name. And that, Reeve refused as stubbornly as his mother. Cautious, remote, and suspicious of his father’s motives, he refused to give homage or love, only labor.
He’d tried to love both sons equally, but it was difficult when all he could see were Reeve’s strengths and Jonah’s weaknesses. He watched with unconcealed delight as Reeve developed a natural gift for dealing with horses. His disappointment was apparent when, despite his best efforts, Jonah couldn’t overcome his fear of them. Then the accidenthappened. And Jonah was forever handicapped with a shortened leg and obvious limp.
He couldn’t fault Jonah for not trying his hardest to please him. What the boy lacked in physical prowess, he made up for in mental acuity. He worked miracles with the Glade’s books, then went on to establish the county’s first bank. His charity and kindness earned the love of all, and Byron tried to be one of them. But he couldn’t quite forgive the frail Jonah for not being Reeve. He tried to make up for that lack of affection by showering him with admiration. He hoped he succeeded.
Then, Byron saw a way around Jonah’s shortcomings. If he couldn’t be the sturdy heir Byron desired, than perhaps he could pass that wish down to the next generation. A fit, prime grandson. And he saw Patrice Sinclair as the perfect mate to bring about that accomplishment. Of blooded stock and sturdy lineage, she had more than enough vinegar and spirit to make up for what Jonah lacked. He couldn’t have been happier to announce the engagement to friends and family. And for the first time, he embraced Jonah with genuine fondness.
Then Reeve brought Jonah home for burial.
Terrible words were exchanged at that grave site. Byron wasn’t sure which spurred his fury, the fact that Reeve had taken an active part in the death of his heir, or that Reeve, his treasured son, his pride, had failed to stand by him and his beliefs, defying him openly to join the enemy cause. That choice stunned him and embarrassed him before his neighbors, leaving him in the awkward position of how to explain when he couldn’t. It broke his heart.
Now Reeve was back, and a mixture of resentment and relief twisted though him. Here, he hadanother chance at a future for the Glade. To take it meant swallowing the humiliation of having his son turn against him, the insult of Reeve’s refusal to apologize for his part in all their miseries.
But there was so much to gain in the balance.
At the moment, he had nothing but the roof over his head and a tax debt he couldn’t meet. His labor force was gone, fleeing down Freedom Road. The only blooded animal on the farm belonged to Reeve, and therein lay all his hopes. Though they’d argued about everything for years, he knew Reeve loved the Glade with a fierceness to rival his own. And he knew he could count on the boy to do the impossible to bring things around again.
But he didn’t know how to tie him both to family and farm until he saw him ride in with Patrice Sinclair across the saddle.
He hadn’t believed anything could get them that close together. A fiery, willful girl, Patrice never shied away from speaking of her hatred for “that lousy, cowardly traitor.” He granted her those forthright opinions. Since the engagement, she felt like family to him, prompting his invitation for her and her mother to stay at the Glade.
It came to him. A stroke of inspiration.
Patrice Sinclair. He liked her. He knew she would have
His wife knew of Abigail and the boy, but women accepted such things without comment. And he kept to his vow not to resume his affair once a legitimate heir was produced.
He hadn’t meant to hurt either his wife or his son with his blatant favoritism, but Reeve, without trying to, far overshadowed his half brother. He was strong as an ox, courageous to a fault, honorable and dependable as the day was long. He understood the land, and the livestock loved him. The perfect son in all but name. And that, Reeve refused as stubbornly as his mother. Cautious, remote, and suspicious of his father’s motives, he refused to give homage or love, only labor.
He’d tried to love both sons equally, but it was difficult when all he could see were Reeve’s strengths and Jonah’s weaknesses. He watched with unconcealed delight as Reeve developed a natural gift for dealing with horses. His disappointment was apparent when, despite his best efforts, Jonah couldn’t overcome his fear of them. Then the accidenthappened. And Jonah was forever handicapped with a shortened leg and obvious limp.
He couldn’t fault Jonah for not trying his hardest to please him. What the boy lacked in physical prowess, he made up for in mental acuity. He worked miracles with the Glade’s books, then went on to establish the county’s first bank. His charity and kindness earned the love of all, and Byron tried to be one of them. But he couldn’t quite forgive the frail Jonah for not being Reeve. He tried to make up for that lack of affection by showering him with admiration. He hoped he succeeded.
Then, Byron saw a way around Jonah’s shortcomings. If he couldn’t be the sturdy heir Byron desired, than perhaps he could pass that wish down to the next generation. A fit, prime grandson. And he saw Patrice Sinclair as the perfect mate to bring about that accomplishment. Of blooded stock and sturdy lineage, she had more than enough vinegar and spirit to make up for what Jonah lacked. He couldn’t have been happier to announce the engagement to friends and family. And for the first time, he embraced Jonah with genuine fondness.
Then Reeve brought Jonah home for burial.
Terrible words were exchanged at that grave site. Byron wasn’t sure which spurred his fury, the fact that Reeve had taken an active part in the death of his heir, or that Reeve, his treasured son, his pride, had failed to stand by him and his beliefs, defying him openly to join the enemy cause. That choice stunned him and embarrassed him before his neighbors, leaving him in the awkward position of how to explain when he couldn’t. It broke his heart.
Now Reeve was back, and a mixture of resentment and relief twisted though him. Here, he hadanother chance at a future for the Glade. To take it meant swallowing the humiliation of having his son turn against him, the insult of Reeve’s refusal to apologize for his part in all their miseries.
But there was so much to gain in the balance.
At the moment, he had nothing but the roof over his head and a tax debt he couldn’t meet. His labor force was gone, fleeing down Freedom Road. The only blooded animal on the farm belonged to Reeve, and therein lay all his hopes. Though they’d argued about everything for years, he knew Reeve loved the Glade with a fierceness to rival his own. And he knew he could count on the boy to do the impossible to bring things around again.
But he didn’t know how to tie him both to family and farm until he saw him ride in with Patrice Sinclair across the saddle.
He hadn’t believed anything could get them that close together. A fiery, willful girl, Patrice never shied away from speaking of her hatred for “that lousy, cowardly traitor.” He granted her those forthright opinions. Since the engagement, she felt like family to him, prompting his invitation for her and her mother to stay at the Glade.
It came to him. A stroke of inspiration.
Patrice Sinclair. He liked her. He knew she would have
Similar Books
