A Dream to Call My Own Read Online Free PDF Page A

changed from the roadblock to finding her father’s killer to a man who made her heart race and knees grow weak?
    Her sisters had often suggested that he cared for her, and Gwen had commented more than once that they made a nice couple. But Lacy had always put aside such thoughts.
    She touched her lips and thought of the times Dave had kissed her. She’d enjoyed it more than she cared to admit. Picking up the hairbrush, Lacy studied her face as she began to stroke through the cinnamon-colored mass.
    “Exactly what do I feel for him?” she begged the woman reflected there.
    Rafe Reynolds threw a broken beer mug into the crate of trash. The storm was keeping his business to a nonexistent state. He hadn’t had a single customer all night, so they’d used the time to spruce things up. Now, however, there wasn’t much left to be done.
    Cubby crossed the saloon, and Rafe couldn’t help but notice his son had grown up practically overnight. He was at least six feet tall, his hair the color of his mother’s. Rafe grimaced. Maryland. He hadn’t thought about her in years. She had been a feisty girl, six years his junior and named for her prostitute mother’s home state. Pretty and blond, she had used her looks to make her way in life, and Rafe had fallen hard for her.
    At nineteen, she had waltzed into town as if she owned the place. Men were immediately drawn to her—Rafe included. She had a way about her that held everyone captive. Rafe had wanted her from the start. But not for the brothel or other men. He wanted Maryland for himself. And he thought she’d felt the same.
    He had suggested they marry almost before she’d settled in. Maryland had laughed and instead told Rafe that she had no intention of chaining herself down to one man or place. This surprised Rafe greatly. Most single women were actively pursuing a husband. Maryland had suggested, instead, that they simply have a good time together and see where it took them. Rafe was captivated.
    “I’m going to bed, Pa,” Cubby announced.
    “We got enough wood?” Rafe asked in a gruff manner.
    “Yeah. I brought in enough to last a couple of days. We’ll be warm enough. The girls have plenty, too.”
    Rafe nodded and said nothing more. He watched his son leave the room and let out a long, heavy breath. Why had things gone so wrong? Rafe had loved Maryland. He was happy when she announced that she was pregnant with his child. Even then, however, she hadn’t wanted to marry him. Rafe had argued the point with her, desperately wanting to give her his undying love and his child a name. She thought him old-fashioned and silly.
    “The boy can have your name,” she had told Rafe, “but I like my own well enough to keep it for myself.”
    Rafe poured himself a whiskey and tossed it back. She hadn’t known how her statement had hurt him. Maryland hadn’t cared about anyone but herself, as was evident in her desertion of Rafe and Cubby when the latter had only been eight weeks old. She’d left nothing behind but the baby and had even taken all of the money Rafe had put aside to purchase a house for his little family.
    The prostitutes in the brothel helped him care for the boy, but they could do nothing to ease Rafe’s misery. Finally one of the women suggested he go after Maryland while they took care of Cubby. Rafe had jumped at the opportunity. For some stupid reason, he had been convinced that he would win her back. Instead, he showed up two days later in a town some fifty miles away, only to learn that she’d gotten herself killed in a saloon fight. Rafe had paid for her burial, but the matter had forever hardened his heart against women. Maryland had used him, and he couldn’t forgive her.
    The roar of the winter winds outside only served to chill Rafe to the bone. He poured another glass of whiskey. This time he nursed it slowly, feeling the burning liquid slide down his throat.
    Cubby was all he had in this world for family. Yet the boy caused him pain