Signs Of Joy for the Wounded Hearts (Preview)

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Prologue

Winona O’Reilly gazed longingly at the long red dress displayed in the window of the dress shop in her little town of Butter Creek, Iowa. She’d been saving up for it and Abby, the dressmaker, knew how much she wanted it. She only had a few more weeks to wait before she’d have the money for that dress.
Winona turned away and cast her blue eyes down the street, looking at the men standing outside the barber shop. Normally, she wouldn’t pay them any attention. But they were being loud and obnoxious, and she couldn’t help hearing them.
The biggest problem was that she knew they wanted her to hear them. They were talking about her. Well, in a way—they were actually talking about her father. But she knew they were being loud enough for her to hear and the only reason they had for doing that was to hurt her.
Winona would never understand why anyone felt the need to bully someone else. Didn’t they have better things to do? And for grown men to do their best to harass and tease and bully a young lady?
It made Winona’s heart sick.
She walked away from the dress shop and headed toward her work. Winona was one of the cooks at the Golden Nugget.
Butter Creek was a small town of almost 600 people. Of those 600 people, ninety percent got along well. Winona could see the town growing every year. She didn’t know whether to be excited or frightened. More people always seemed to bring in more chaos. This was evident by the fact that there were many people who traveled through Butter Creek because of its close proximity to the big city of Dubuque. Travelers and drifters meant crime wandered through Butter Creek like a winding stream of water.
Winona hated the fact that she couldn’t walk to work without hearing the jeers of the men in front of the barber shop. Sometimes she would see women come out of the beauty parlor and they were exactly the same.
There were only a handful of people in Butter Creek that didn’t treat Winona that way and they were her age—too young to remember what happened to cause Winona and her grandma to be treated like outcasts.
It had been seventeen years since Winona’s father, Franklin, was convicted of murder. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but the victim was the former wife of the man who was now mayor. Shona, Winona’s grandma and Franklin’s mother, had told her the election of that man, Robert Orrick, to public office only came about because of the murder.
Winona didn’t have a good opinion of the mayor and the older residents of Butter Creek who tortured her. She wasn’t to blame for what her father did, but they certainly wanted to convict her of it. She’d only been four. It didn’t make sense for them to treat her that way.
“Winona!” When she heard her name being called, she jerked her head to the side and looked at the speaker, her heart racing. She’d been confronted to her face a few times and never knew what to say. “The Murderer’s Daughter”, they liked to call her. She’d been asked when she was going to follow in her father’s footsteps.
But her heart calmed when she saw it was Pastor Lincoln Potter, one of her few friends.
“Hello, Pastor Lincoln,” she said casually, stopping to wait for him to catch up to her. “How are you today?”
“I’m doing well,” he responded, coming up alongside her. “And you?”
“I’m well, thank you.”
“Just heading to work?”
“Yes, another long day in the hot kitchen. But I do like the work, I’m not complaining.” She gave him a pleasant smile, even though she didn’t feel like smiling. That wasn’t his fault, was it?
“You never do, my dear,” the older man said, returning her smile. “You never do. You’re almost ready to buy that dress you want, aren’t you? I saw you looking at it a few minutes ago.”
Winona nodded, a warm feeling passing through her. She couldn’t wait. “Oh yes. I am almost there. I’ve been working really hard on saving up for it.”
“I know you have.” The pastor paused, looking down at the ground in front of them as they walked. She turned her head to study his profile.
“You have something on your mind, Pastor?” she asked in a softer voice than usual.
Pastor Lincoln’s eyes were friendly when he looked at her. “I know there are still people bullying you, Winona. It seems that as the years go by, the more bitter they get.”
Winona’s smile turned into a frown. She didn’t want to talk about those people.
“I didn’t mean to bring you down and upset you,” Pastor Lincoln said quickly, stopping and turning slightly to her, putting one hand on her elbow. “I would much rather see the smile you had a few seconds ago. I only want to tell you that if you need to talk to someone about it, you know I’m here for you. I won’t judge you and I am your friend. I do hope you remember that.”
Winona didn’t even have to think about it. She nodded right away. “I know, Pastor. I’ll be very honest with you and tell you that’s just what I’ve been doing. I trust you. And they don’t really mean anything to me. They don’t even know me.”
“They’ve never gotten to know you like they should have,” the Pastor admitted. “Just know that God loves you and your friends love you and so does your grandma. Don’t pay any attention to them. They have problems of their own to deal with.”
Thinking about that did make Winona feel better. Everyone had problems. Their lives weren’t perfect, no matter how much they tried to act like they were. She turned her frown into a smile again, which made him do the same.
“Thank you, Pastor Lincoln. That makes my day better. I appreciate it.”
“I’m so glad,” he responded, a hint of relief in his voice. “And you are welcome.”

Chapter One

Winona pulled her bonnet from her head and tossed it on the small table by the door of the living room as she went in. She and her grandma lived in a three-bedroom cottage just on the very edge of town. They owned a horse and buggy but usually only used it on Sundays to get to church. Otherwise, unless there was some kind of emergency, Winona walked everywhere, and Granny rarely left the house. She was not a well woman at seventy-two. She could shuffle around the house and take care of herself but was incapable of doing much more than that.
One thing she could still do was cook. Winona was glad about that since that was her occupation. She didn’t want to cook for other people all day long and then come home and do it some more. She would do it; she just didn’t want to—hence she was especially grateful that her grandma still liked to do it. She was an Irish immigrant and proud of her home country but was equally glad to be an American, as she’d told Winona on many occasions.
“Granny,” Winona said in a frustrated, exhausted voice as she dropped herself into a large, cushioned chair, draping both arms over the sides. “I am so tired of those mean people in town. Why can’t they just forget what happened seventeen years ago? Why do they have to take it out on me?”
Granny sat forward, setting aside her knitting. “Were they bothering you again? At work, no less?”
Winona sighed heavily. She could see the men in her head. They’d followed her to the Golden Nugget and had come inside, laughing loudly for no reason that she could understand. Just to annoy her probably.
“If it was a group of boys, it would be different,” she grumbled, resting her head back and staring at the ceiling. “These are grown men. Grown men! I just don’t understand it. It makes me feel bad even though I know it shouldn’t. I don’t like being an outcast, Granny. If I’d done something to make them treat me that way, I wouldn’t even care how they felt. But I haven’t done anything, and it does affect me. I wish it didn’t.”
Granny nodded; her intelligent green eyes focused on Winona. “My dear, you are a strong young woman. Knowing you are not to blame is the key to holding on to your self-esteem when those men torture you. There’s nothing that can be done to stop them. We can only control how we react to them. Keep that in mind and you will get through it. Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat.”
“I’ve been eating bits here and there all day,” Winona responded. “I reckon I wouldn’t mind a real meal. Thank you, Granny. I love you.”
“I love you, too, dear.” Granny got up from her chair, pushing with one thin, frail arm. Winona resisted the urge to help her. She hated that. She said she couldn’t maintain the little strength she had left if she was always relying on someone else to help her. She would need a cane soon, though. She needed it already but was too stubborn to use one. Eventually, she wouldn’t have a choice. “Why don’t you come with me and we can talk in the kitchen?”
That sounded like an excellent idea to Winona. She nodded and pushed up from the chair the same way her grandma had done, except for different reasons. A flash of pain ran up from her feet when she rested all her weight on them again. She’d been on them the majority of the day, with only a few breaks when she could manage, and then only when the one chair in the back kitchen of the restaurant was free.
Winona followed her grandma to the kitchen, which was directly across the foyer from the living room. There was a table and four chairs in front of the window in the same room as the counters, the sink, the stove, and the icebox. She pulled out one of the chairs and sat down, glad to get off her aching feet. She lifted one leg up and kneaded her foot with her fingers.
“I try not to pay any attention to them,” she said quietly, moving her eyes out the window to see the sky getting darker as the day moved toward its end. “It’s hard sometimes but I do try. Today they were calling from in front of the barber shop and laughing so loud…” She shook her head. “I don’t understand what they think is so funny. I’m not doing anything funny. What’s making them laugh?”
“I’m sure in their crude minds, whatever they are saying to each other is funny. I’m glad you don’t hear all of what they say. It would only hurt you more. You are tuning them out, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I don’t have a choice.”
“Good. Remember your worth. You are not your father.” Granny’s voice cracked when she said that. Winona knew her grandma didn’t believe her father had killed anyone, least of all a woman.
“Granny…” she said slowly. Her grandma looked at her from the sink, where she was pumping water into a pot. “Tell me again why you believe he’s innocent?”
“Your father was working the day that woman was killed,” Granny said firmly. “They tried to say he left and went back but they didn’t have any proof of that. I don’t believe he is guilty and never will.” Her eyes were as sad as her voice. She shook her head, turning away from Winona. “He was framed for that murder. And it’s a shame no one wants to believe that.”
Winona was quiet for a moment, thinking about what Granny had said. “Some people do,” she said. “We’re not the only ones. Pastor Lincoln doesn’t think he’s guilty.”
Granny nodded. “Yes, he’s always been an advocate of your father’s. But you do know they were good friends when they were young. Lincoln used to come over when he was a boy and play with your father. That was when the town was very young, and we had just settled in. They had a farm nearby and Lincoln was the first little boy your father played with.”
Granny left the water to boil and came to sit in one of the other chairs. Her eyes were dreamy as she drifted through her memory. Winona liked seeing her that way. She looked so happy when she thought and talked about the past.
Winona didn’t know if her father was guilty or innocent. She only knew that he was convicted of killing a woman when she was four years old and she had heard nothing but horrible things about him from everyone but a handful of people, one of them being her grandma.
“Seventeen years is a long time to spend in prison,” she mumbled. “If he’s innocent, wouldn’t he have been let out by now?” She shook her head. “They kept him in there for a reason. He must be guilty.”
Granny shook her head, getting up to attend the water, which was now boiling. “No, my dear. The law got it wrong this time. He was innocent. He was never a murderer.”
Winona blinked rapidly, turning her eyes to the window once more. She saw a cloud of dust drifting by, usually an indication that someone had come down the dirt road toward and past their house. She didn’t see anyone on the road leading away from their house, though.
In the next moment, there was a knock on the door. Her eyes darted to her grandma. They never got visitors.
Granny didn’t look happy about the intrusion either. “Did you invite someone over?” she questioned Winona.
“No, of course not,” Winona replied gently. “Who would I invite? I have no friends.” She felt bad the moment she said that. She did have at least a few friends in town, the ones that were her age and hadn’t been influenced by their parents’ opinions of the O’Reilly family. “Maybe it’s the pastor.”
She got up slowly. She couldn’t expect her grandma to answer the door. Not alone anyway.
Winona went to the door of the kitchen and stuck her head out, looking at the front door as if there was a monster on the other side. Maybe if they didn’t answer, the person would go away.
Another knock banged at the door with the same intensity as her beating heart. She sighed through her nose and went to investigate. She looked back at Granny before turning the knob. The old woman nodded and waved one hand for her to get on with it.
She pulled the door open and stared at the man on the porch.
It was a monster, after all.
It was her father.

Chapter Two

Stunned, Winona took another two steps back. She’d only seen him in the picture Granny insisted on having on the mantle. It was a poorly done photograph where the background was terribly blurry and the only thing in focus was her father and mother.
This man looked older, but there was no doubt who it was.
“Winnie?” he said, breathlessly, snatching his hat from his head.
“Frankie!”
Winona turned to see her grandma stretching both arms out toward her son, immediate tears rolling down her cheeks. “My boy! My boy!”
“Ma!”
Franklin took three long steps past Winona in the direction of his mother. He held out both hands and when he was close enough, he moved into his mother’s arms, wrapping his own around her. He picked her up off the ground and hugged her tight, both of them laughing. Granny’s thin arms gripped hold of him.
“My boy! What’s happened! How are you here?”
Franklin let her down to her feet again.
Winona watched the reunion, not knowing how to feel. Was she looking at a murderer? Or was she looking at her father? He couldn’t be both. She couldn’t allow him to be both.
“They let me out, Ma!” Franklin said, his voice filled with emotion. “They let me out! They said I had spent enough time there!”
Winona narrowed her eyes. “They just let you out?” she asked skeptically.
Franklin turned to her, a pleading look on his face. “Yes. They did. I was a good prisoner, they said. I was set free because they reviewed my case, and I won my appeal. They didn’t have enough evidence to keep me any longer! It’s a miracle. A God-given miracle.”
“Oh?” Winona was having a hard time believing it. She’d heard plenty about the murder to know it was gruesome and anyone committing a crime like that should never be released from prison. “You think it was God that set you free? That’s blasphemy!”
She spun around on her heel and ran down the hall toward her room. She slammed the door behind her and threw herself on her bed, grabbing her pillow and putting it over her head. As expected, she heard her door open a few seconds later.
What she didn’t expect was to hear her father’s voice. She’d thought it would be her grandma that came to console her.
“Winnie.”
When she felt his hand on her shoulder, she jerked her body back and forth to indicate she didn’t want him touching her. She felt him pull his hand away.
“Winnie, please talk to me. If you don’t want to talk, that’s okay but at least listen. Will you give me that courtesy?”
Winona had always been on the fence about her father’s guilt. Now, seeing him alive and in person, right in front of her, she didn’t know how to feel. She was frightened, relieved, happy, confused…
She turned over, clutching the pillow to her chest instead and shoved herself so she was sitting with her back against the headboard. She refused to look at him. She didn’t care if she was acting like a teenager instead of a twenty-one-year-old woman. This man was her father. She’d been taking abuse on his behalf her entire life. Was he worth it?
Franklin sat on the edge of her bed, giving her that same pleading look. She could see it out of the corner of her eye but didn’t want him to know she was looking at him. She moved her eyes out the window, trying to hide the tears that had filled them from him.
“Winnie.” His voice was so soft, it was like silk to her ears. “You are the only reason I’ve been able to get through these years in jail. With your mother gone, you and Mama are all I have left. I’ve been dreaming about you, longing to be with you and hold you and give you gifts on your birthday and Christmas…” He choked and had to take a second to compose himself. “So many years I’ve missed with you. Look at what you’ve grown into. This incredibly beautiful woman. Oh, Winnie, please—I didn’t commit that crime. I’ve always been a good upstanding citizen, a God-fearing man, a father, and husband. Give me a chance to redeem myself to you. Please, I’m begging you, my dear.”
Winona knew halfway through his speech that it wasn’t going to take much for her to forgive him. Her grandma had been telling her for so long that he was innocent. How could she be angry with him when it was the people in town that had given her such a negative view of him?
She turned her head to lock eyes with him. “What do you plan to do now that you’re out?” She was glad the question didn’t come out sounding harsh. She could see the immediate look of relief on his face.
“I’m going to prove I was framed,” he stated in a confident, blunt tone. He leaned forward slightly, and Winona felt a tingle of excitement slide through her. “You wanna help?”
For the first time in her life that she could remember, Winona saw her father smile at her.
Tears flooded her throat, making her sob. They were already streaming down her face when she threw the pillow to the side and leapt from where she was directly into his arms.
“Papa,” she wept into his shoulder. “Papa, papa.”
While she was crying, her father was laughing. But it wasn’t a malicious laugh; it was the laugh of a man who was finally happy again. He hugged her tight, swaying from left to right, pecking kisses on her cheek in between the laughs.
“My sweet Winnie, my beautiful daughter.”
Winona stayed in her father’s arms for another good five minutes. She pulled away several times to look in his eyes and then would hug him again. Eventually, they were both laughing.
The last time she pulled away, she looked in his eyes through her tears and said, “I do want to help you, Papa. Just tell me what to do. I’ll do anything I have to. I want to prove to them all that you were innocent from the beginning.” She thought about what satisfaction that would give her.
Her father must have noticed the look on her face and thought it was strange because he asked, “You sound very determined, my dear. I reckon things haven’t been easy for you and Ma over these years I’ve been away.”
Winona shook her head. “After Grampa died, I had to go to work so we would be able to eat. But it’s okay. We’ve gotten lots of help from Pastor Lincoln. I think sometimes he’s brought us food and clothes and supplies without telling the people of the church where the stuff is going.”
Franklin frowned. “Why would he have to do that?”
Winona didn’t want to tell him. She wanted their happiness to continue. But she knew he would have to find out all the details sooner or later, just like she would need the details from his point of view about what happened seventeen years ago.
“The people in town have been very unkind to Granny and me over the years,” she responded. “They taunt me and jeer at me. It’s a daily thing. I work at the Golden Nugget, and they call at me every time I walk to work.”
Franklin’s frown deepened. “That’s not right. That’s terrible. How could they be that way?”
He shook his head.
“They think you’re guilty.”
“But they torture you and Ma?” He continued shaking his head.
“But it’s okay now, Papa,” Winona said, her excitement returning. She couldn’t believe she was sitting on her bed talking to her father. She never expected it to happen. And here it was—happening.
“It’s not okay just because I’ve come back,” he said.
She didn’t want him to be upset again. She grabbed his upper arms and made him look at her. She smiled wide so he would, too.
“We’re going to show them. Granny has told me since I can remember that you were innocent and someone else did it. I do want to help you prove that Papa.”
Franklin lifted one hand and placed it against her cheek. She closed her eyes and covered his hand with hers. A second later, she slid her face to kiss his palm and smiled at him.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Papa. Everything is going to change now. Everything is going to be different. Better.”
Franklin nodded. She looked into his eyes—so much like hers.
“Yes. I’m going to have to get used to being free again. Life in prison is not pleasant. I made some friends, and I made some enemies. But that’s all in the past now. I’m putting that behind me. I want to live for you now, Winnie, and for Ma. And maybe someday I’ll find another woman to love. But don’t you worry. There’s only one goal I have in mind now.”
“Prove your innocence,” Winona said firmly.
He nodded. “That’s right. Let’s go talk to Ma.”
They got up hand in hand and went out the door.

“Signs Of Joy for the Wounded Hearts” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

Winona’s father had been in prison for seventeen years when he showed up one day on her porch step, claiming his conviction had been overturned and seeking her help to clear his name. Although stunned upon seeing him again, it didn’t take long for Winona to realize he had been set up for the crime by someone who would do everything to prevent them from finding out the truth. Welcoming him back home, she takes it upon herself to seek redemption for her father. Thus a quest begins…

Will retribution be the only thing she aspires to find, though?

She enlists the help of Dallas Gable, a handsome colored lawyer, the only man in town with the knowledge and the willingness to help out the Irish family, to his possible own detriment. Winona sees right through him and realizes he is more than just an educated man. Behind the mask of the distant expert, he is a knight in shining armor, more than willing to help fight for the cause of justice. As they delve through the mystery, they grow closer and closer together until an act of bravery results in Winona surrendering her heart to the young lawyer. And Dallas is more than willing to guard it forever…

To what extent are they willing to sacrifice their mission for love?

The power of their enemy and his money is far-reaching. The layers of the crime begin to unravel as the young couple traverse the maze of a mystery until they find themselves at a perilous point, their very lives at stake. Will they beat the power of corruption and greed, clearing her father’s name in time? Will their growing love for each other prove to be a benefit or a hindrance to their cause?

“Signs Of Joy for the Wounded Hearts” is a historical western romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

Get your copy from Amazon!

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OFFER: A BRAND NEW SERIES AND 2 FREEBIES FOR YOU!

Grab my new series, " Faith and Love on the Frontier", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!

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