Fran Shaff - Change of Heart

CHANGE OF HEART

Fran Shaff

A Fran Shaff Family Novel

Historical Romance for everyone who loves alove story.

Change of Heart By Fran Shaff

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 by Fran Shaff

Characters, names and incidents used in thisbook are products of the imagination of the author and are usedfictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales,organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirelycoincidental.

January, 2010

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REVIEWS and Acclaim For Change of Heart

5 STARS from Simegen.com The author, FranShaff, has sewn together a gripping, warmhearted romance filledwith suspense that will have you, the reader, weeping tears ofsadness and of joy for the sweetest couple that has hit the pagesof books for a long time.

5 HEARTS from The Romance Studio. Ms. Shaffhas written a magnificent heart-stirring book. Many times I foundmyself crying out loud, then releasing a wonderful sigh. Ms Shaffis a gifted writer that always delivers in her stories.

5 STARS from CataRomance. This book is not tobe missed.

5 CUPS from Coffee Time Romance. I didntwant the story to end.

4 BLUE RIBBONS from Romance Junkies: FranShaff does an amazing job pulling the reader into the story so thatyou feel like youre really part of it. I became so involved, Idread all the way through the story before I even realized it, andwas extremely impressed to find myself so emotionally involved thatI cried at several points.

4 ANGELS from Fallen Angel Reviews. FranShaff did a great job in bringing together the heartache of losinga loved one and the joy of finding new love. Great Job.

MyShelf.com. I highly recommend thisendearing novel to anyone who enjoys old-fashioned romance.

EXCERPT

Marietta looked at herself in the largemirror in the corner of Amys bedroom. Her dress didnt hang rightanymore due to the weight shed lost on her trip, but her darkcinnamon hair was stunning against the black frock. A bath withAunt Mamies lilac soap and freshly combed hair made Marietta feellike a woman once more. She took a deep breath, full of confidenceand femininity, and smiled at her reflection before going to meetthe Carsons and her young nephew Zack in the kitchen.

Look whos come to join us for supper, Amysaid, delight in her voice.

Mariettas gaze lifted to meet Jases. Heseemed to freeze the second he laid eyes on her.

Mr. Kent, Marietta said, I thought youwere joining the colonel.

II was, but, when I brought the rest ofyour things from the stage, Amy asked me to stay to supper. Hecleared his throat, but his eyes never left her. I never turn downbeef stew.

I see.

Miss Randolf Jase cleared his throatagain.

Dont be shy, Jase, Amy said. Take theladys arm and escort her to the table.

Jase hesitated a moment then moved towardMarietta, offering her his arm. Marietta took it and walked to thetable in the center of the kitchen.

Jase continued to stare at her. You lookabsolutely lovely, Marietta.

Thick silence hung in the kitchen as theylocked gazes a moment longer. She felt the warmth of his eyes touchher all the way through to her heart. Had he just called her by hergiven name? How very bold of him.

He held her chair for her. Please sitdown.

She complied, and he took his place next toher.

DEDICATION

For all of the good people of Nebraska, oneof my home states

Marietta Randolf pulled her aching body fromthe stagecoach that had shaken her insides for the last two hundredmiles. Her tired gaze drifted over the Nebraska open range. Shetook in more of the vast wilderness shed seen pass her window onthe stage. She didnt like it. She could scarcely believe anyonewould willingly live in the Nebraska territory, let alone herbeloved sister Kathy.

The journey to Fort Kearney from Chicago hadbeen a miserable one, especially since leaving the steamboat on theMissouri River south of Omaha. Stagecoach treks were not for cityladies; they were for mules and men and other wild creatures. Itwas amazing that in the modern age of the late 1850s, travel to thewest was still so primitive. Marietta massaged the aching musclesin her back as best she could without drawing too much attention toherself. She doubted her body would ever forgive her for leavingcivilization.

Do you see your young man, Miss Randolf?Mr. Henshaw, a fellow passenger, asked.

My young man? Oh, you mean my nephewZack.

Yes, maam. I dont see any children.

Likely hes inside the fort in one of thebuildings. However, Marietta said, looking around, I am expectingsomeone to meet me. I dont see him yet.

Mr. Henshaw tipped the hat that hid his grayhair, smoothed his hands over his dark suit, and lit his deep-blueeyes the way hed done numerous times on the ride from the river.I need to board the stage once again, Miss Randolf. The driver hastaken down your bags. Hes ready to leave.

Marietta eyed the driver whod refused togive a body two minutes to rest anywhere along his route beforefocusing on her travel companion. Its been a pleasure to knowyou, Mr. Henshaw, she said, even though the man had been a botherthroughout the Nebraska territory. His words had blown through thestagecoach as constantly as the prairie wind when he unceasinglymisquoted the Bible, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Charles Dickens.

Mr. Henshaw took Mariettas hand. Again,Miss Randolf, I offer my sympathies over the loss of your esteemedsister. God be with you in your time of sorrow and always. Hell bewith you in your new life with your nephew as well.

Thank you, Mr. Henshaw, Marietta said,forcing a smile for the annoying man.

He released her hand and returned to thestagecoach, waving from the window as the coach pulled away.Marietta nodded and watched the violent vehicle shake and roll overthe colorless prairie as she endured the chill of a sudden gust oflate-November wind.

Gods Cathedral, she mumbled, repeatingwhat Mr. Henshaw had called this barren wilderness. Marietta wouldnever understand how he saw Heaven in the countryside that, to her,surely had to be a reflection of Hell itself.

A deep voice startled her. I beg yourpardon?

Marietta turned and found a man staring downat her. He was covered in black from hat to boots, except for thered bandana around his neck.

Did you say something? he asked, fasteninghis dark wool coat shut over his black shirt and waistcoat. Iheard you speaking and thought youd seen or heard me approaching.Were you talking to me?

No, of course not. Just thinking aloud Iguess, she replied, slightly unnerved at being met by such anattractive man. Shed been afraid all men who inhabited the prairiewere as old and annoying as Mr. Henshaw.

He nodded toward her. Nothing wrong withthat. He took off his wide-brimmed felt hat, revealing a mass ofdark molasses hair and fingered the brim as he held the hat overhis trim waist. Im Jason Kent, maam. Zacks been staying with meon my ranch.

Another chilling breeze washed over her.Marietta shivered and pulled her wool cape tight around her. Thankyou for looking after my nephew, Mr. Kent. How is Zack?

Hes doing quite well, considering what hesbeen through. Hes waiting at the fort now to meet his aunt.