A Love to Heal the Broken Rancher – Extended Epilogue

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One Year Later

“You’re going to spoil that baby rotten,” Elsa laughed, watching Jake bounce little Thomas on his knee while making exaggerated horse sounds. The baby giggled and clapped his chubby hands together, completely enchanted by his honorary uncle.

Sam shook his head from across the kitchen table, grinning. “Don’t encourage him, Elsa. He’s been doing that for the past hour. Poor Thomas is going to think every man makes those ridiculous noises.”

“They don’t?” Jake asked with mock surprise, lifting the baby high in the air. Thomas squealed with delight, his tiny fists reaching for Jake’s hat. “Well, that’s a shame. Life would be much more entertaining if they did.”

Marta bustled around the kitchen, pouring fresh coffee into everyone’s cups. Despite having given birth only three months prior, she moved with renewed energy, the joy of motherhood radiating from her face. “Sam’s just jealous because Thomas laughs harder for Jake than he does for his own father.”

“That’s not true,” Sam protested, though his grin suggested otherwise. “Besides, wait until Jake has his own little one to worry about. Then we’ll see how much energy he has for entertaining other people’s children.”

Elsa’s hand instinctively moved to rest on her still-small belly, a soft smile playing on her lips. At four months along, she was just beginning to show, though her loose-fitting dress concealed most evidence of the baby growing within her.

Jake’s eyes followed the movement, his expression growing tender. “I think I’ll manage just fine,” he said quietly, passing Thomas back to Sam before moving to stand behind Elsa’s chair. His hands settled gently on her shoulders. “After all, I’ll have the best teacher in the world.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Dawson,” Elsa said, leaning back against him.

“I certainly hope so, Mrs. Dawson.”

The sound of horses approaching interrupted their peaceful moment. Elsa turned toward the window, squinting against the afternoon sun. “That looks like Clara and Savannah. They’re back from town earlier than I expected.”

Jake squeezed her shoulders gently. “I’ll go help them with whatever they’ve brought back.”

As Jake headed outside, Marta settled into the chair beside Elsa, Thomas now contentedly nursing. “How are you feeling today? Any more of that morning sickness?”

“Better, thank goodness,” Elsa replied, watching through the window as Jake greeted her sisters. “Though I think ‘morning sickness’ is a cruel name for something that lasted all day for the first three months.”

“It does pass,” Marta assured her. “And then you’ll have more energy than you know what to do with. Just wait until you start feeling the baby move.”

Elsa’s eyes lit up. “When did you first feel Thomas?”

“Around five months,” Marta said, her voice soft with memory. “Sam was reading to me one evening, and suddenly there was this little flutter, like a butterfly had gotten trapped inside me. I grabbed his hand and pressed it to my belly, but of course he couldn’t feel anything yet.”

The kitchen door burst open, and Savannah practically danced inside, her arms full of packages. At sixteen, she had grown into a lovely young woman, her auburn hair pinned back in a simple style that highlighted her bright green eyes.

“Elsa! You’ll never guess what happened in town today,” she exclaimed, setting her packages on the counter with barely contained excitement.

Clara followed more sedately, though Elsa could see the hint of a smile tugging at her sister’s lips. At eighteen, Clara had blossomed into a poised young woman, her dark hair elegantly arranged and her blue dress complementing her eyes perfectly.

“Let me guess,” Elsa said, rising from her chair with some effort. “It has something to do with a certain young man who works at the mercantile?”

Savannah’s cheeks turned pink. “It’s not about me! Well, not entirely. Tell her, Clara.”

Clara set down her own parcels and untied her bonnet, hanging it carefully on the peg by the door. “We ran into Mrs. Henderson at the post office. She mentioned that Lydia Morrison—well, Lydia Fletcher now—was seen at the general store yesterday.”

“Lydia Fletcher?” Marta looked puzzled. “I don’t believe I know her.”

Jake entered the kitchen just in time to catch the name. His expression grew thoughtful. “Lydia Fletcher… isn’t that the woman who was supposed to—” He stopped mid-sentence, glancing at Elsa with a slight grimace.

“The woman who was supposed to marry you,” Elsa finished with amusement. “Yes, I remember her quite well. She took one look at your humble home and decided she could do better.”

“Well, it seems she didn’t do better after all,” Clara said, settling into a chair. “Mrs. Henderson said that Lydia’s husband lost everything in some failed mining venture up north. They’re living in that tiny cabin at the edge of town—you know, the one that’s barely bigger than a chicken coop.”

Sam whistled low. “That’s a hard fall from grace. Wasn’t she supposed to be from some well-to-do family back East?”

“She was,” Jake confirmed. “Or at least, that’s what she claimed. Made it very clear that my ranch wasn’t grand enough for her standards.”

“And now?” Savannah perched on the edge of the table, her eyes bright with the drama of it all. “Mrs. Henderson says they can barely afford flour and beans. Lydia’s been seen mending clothes for other folks just to earn a few pennies.”

Elsa felt a stab of sympathy despite herself. “That’s awful. No one deserves to struggle like that, regardless of past choices.”

“The worst part,” Clara continued, lowering her voice, “is that her family back East has completely disowned her. They won’t take her back because she married beneath her station, and now she can’t leave her husband even though he’s brought her to ruin.”

Marta shifted Thomas to her shoulder, patting his back gently. “Poor woman. To be trapped like that, with no options…”

“She made her choices,” Jake said quietly, but not unkindly. “Though I wouldn’t wish poverty on anyone.”

“Speaking of choices,” Savannah said, her tone brightening considerably, “Clara has some interesting news about her own situation.”

Clara’s cheeks flushed pink. “Savannah!”

“What?” Savannah grinned mischievously. “It’s good news! Tell them about David.”

“David?” Elsa’s eyebrows rose with interest. “The young man from the mercantile?”

“David Patterson,” Clara said softly, her fingers fidgeting with her skirt. “He… he asked if he could call on me properly. With your permission, of course, since you’re…” She trailed off, the old awkwardness about their unconventional family situation still occasionally surfacing.

Jake stepped forward without hesitation. “Clara, you don’t need anyone’s permission but your own. But if it makes you feel better, you certainly have mine. David seems like a decent young man.”

“He is,” Clara said, her face lighting up. “He’s kind and hardworking, and he makes me laugh. He’s nothing like—” She stopped abruptly, but everyone knew she meant Nathan.

“Nathan’s still rotting in that jail cell where he belongs,” Sam said firmly, bouncing Thomas gently as the baby began to fuss. “Sheriff mentioned last week that he’s got at least another two years on his sentence.”

Elsa nodded, feeling a familiar mix of relief and residual anger. “Good. Clara and Savannah have been through enough without worrying about him getting out anytime soon.”

“On a lighter note,” Savannah interjected, clearly eager to change the subject, “we also stopped by the post office. There’s a letter for you both.” She pulled an envelope from her reticule and handed it to Clara.

Clara’s expression grew more serious as she recognized the handwriting. “It’s from Father.”

The kitchen fell quiet except for Thomas’s soft gurgling. Even after nearly a year, the subject of their father remained complicated. While Elsa had completely severed ties with the man who’d raised her after learning the truth about her parentage, she had encouraged her sisters to make their own decisions about maintaining contact with him.

“What does he say?” Elsa asked gently, settling back into her chair.

Clara carefully opened the envelope and scanned the contents, her brow furrowing in concentration. “He… he says he’s been thinking about what we discussed in our last letters. About meeting somewhere neutral.”

“Neutral?” Jake crossed his arms, his protective instincts clearly activated. “What does that mean?”

“He’s suggested meeting in Denver,” Clara continued reading. “He says he could take the train there, and we could as well. It would be neutral ground, away from… from painful memories.”

Savannah leaned forward eagerly. “What do you think, Clara? Do you want to see him?”

Clara folded the letter carefully, her fingers trembling slightly. “I do. Despite everything, he is our father. But…” She looked up at Elsa with uncertain eyes. “I don’t want to go if it will hurt you. I know you’ve made your peace with cutting ties, but if Savannah and I maintain a relationship with him—”

“Clara,” Elsa interrupted gently, reaching across the table to cover her sister’s hand with her own. “You and Savannah are free to make your own choices about Father. My decision doesn’t have to be yours.”

“But it feels like we’re choosing sides,” Savannah said quietly, her earlier excitement dampened. “Like we’re betraying you somehow.”

Jake moved to stand behind Elsa’s chair again, his presence a steady comfort. “You’re not betraying anyone by wanting to have a relationship with your father. Elsa’s situation is different—she learned things that changed everything for her. But that doesn’t mean you have to carry that same burden.”

Marta nodded in agreement. “Family is complicated. Sometimes the healthiest thing is to step away, and sometimes it’s to try to rebuild. Both choices can be right for different people.”

Elsa squeezed Clara’s hand. “I want you both to be happy. If seeing Father might bring you peace or closure, then you should go. Just… promise me you’ll be careful. Don’t let him manipulate you or make you feel guilty for the choices you’ve made.”

“We promise,” Clara said earnestly. “And Elsa? He asks about you in every letter. I think… I think he regrets how things ended between you two.”

A bitter smile crossed Elsa’s face. “Perhaps he does. But some things can’t be undone with regret alone. He made his feelings about me very clear.”

“What if we told him about the baby?” Savannah suggested hopefully. “Maybe knowing he’s going to be a grandfather might—”

“No.” Elsa’s voice was firm but not harsh. “This child doesn’t need the complications that would bring. Jake and I are building our own family, our own legacy. That’s enough.”

Jake’s hand found Elsa’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze of support. The conversation was interrupted by a soft knock at the kitchen door.

“I’ll get it,” Jake said, moving toward the entrance. He opened the door to reveal a thin woman in a faded brown dress, her once-golden hair now dull and pulled back severely. It took him a moment to recognize her.

“Lydia,” he said, surprise evident in his voice.

The woman standing on his doorstep bore little resemblance to the haughty mail-order bride who had rejected his humble home nearly two years ago. Her dress, though clean and carefully mended, showed obvious signs of wear. Her face was gaunt, and her hands were rough from hard work.

“Mr. Dawson,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I… I hope you don’t mind me calling. I know I have no right to ask, but I was wondering if you might have any work. Sewing, cleaning, anything at all. I can work for very little.”

Elsa rose from her chair and moved to join Jake at the door, her heart clenching at the desperation in the other woman’s eyes. “Mrs. Fletcher, isn’t it? Please, come in out of the cold.”

Lydia hesitated. “I don’t want to impose. I know you must think poorly of me after… after how I behaved before.”

“Nonsense,” Elsa said firmly, stepping aside to make room. “Come in and have some coffee. You look half-frozen.”

Reluctantly, Lydia entered the warm kitchen. Clara and Savannah watched with curious eyes while Marta discreetly covered herself as Thomas finished nursing.

“This is very kind of you,” Lydia said, accepting the cup of coffee Elsa offered with shaking hands. “I know I don’t deserve kindness from any of you.”

“Everyone deserves kindness,” Elsa replied, settling back into her chair. “How is your husband, Mrs. Fletcher?”

Lydia’s face crumpled slightly. “He’s… he’s not well. The failure of his mining investment has been hard on him. He spends most days staring out the window, talking about how we’ll strike it rich with the next opportunity. But there won’t be a next opportunity. We have nothing left.”

Sam shifted uncomfortably, Thomas now sleeping peacefully in his arms. “What kind of work are you looking for?”

“Anything,” Lydia said desperately. “I can sew, cook, clean. I helped my mother run our household back in Boston, though I suppose that doesn’t count for much out here. I’ve been taking in mending from some of the ladies in town, but it’s barely enough to keep us in beans and flour.”

Jake exchanged a meaningful look with Elsa. “As it happens, we might be able to help you. Elsa’s going to need more assistance around here as her pregnancy progresses, and with her sisters still living with us, there’s always plenty of work to be done.”

Elsa nodded, understanding immediately. “Would you be interested in helping with cooking and cleaning a few days a week? We could pay you fairly, and there would always be meals included.”

Tears sprang to Lydia’s eyes. “You would do that? After how terribly I treated you both?”

“We all make mistakes,” Elsa said gently. “What matters is how we choose to move forward.”

Clara leaned forward in her chair. “And if you’re skilled with sewing, I know several ladies in town who have been looking for someone to help with alterations and dressmaking.”

“I could introduce you to them,” Savannah added eagerly. “Mrs. Patterson at the mercantile was just saying how she needed help with her daughter’s wedding dress.”

Lydia pressed a hand to her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I don’t know what to say. I never expected such generosity, especially from people I wronged.”

Jake’s voice was gentle but firm. “You didn’t wrong us, Mrs. Fletcher. You made a choice based on what you thought was best for your future. It didn’t work out the way you planned, but that doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“Besides,” Elsa added with a small smile, “if you hadn’t left, Jake and I might never have found each other. Sometimes what seems like the worst thing that could happen turns out to be exactly what needed to happen.”

As the sun began to set over the ranch, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink, Elsa looked around the kitchen at the people gathered there. Her sisters, safe and happy. Her husband’s best friends, blessed with their beautiful baby. A woman who had once been an enemy, now receiving the help she desperately needed. And Jake, her Jake, who had shown her what it meant to be truly loved and cherished.

“Thank you,” Lydia whispered again. “I promise I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t,” Elsa replied, her hand moving instinctively to her growing belly where their child grew strong and healthy. “We’re all just trying to build the best lives we can. There’s no shame in needing help along the way.”

As the evening settled around them, Elsa felt a deep sense of contentment wash over her. Their family was growing, their friends were thriving, and even old wounds were beginning to heal. It was more than she had ever dared to hope for during those dark days when her future seemed so uncertain.

Now, as Jake’s wife and soon-to-be mother of his child, surrounded by love and second chances, she knew that every struggle had been worth it to arrive at this moment of perfect peace.

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

Grab my new series, "Brave Hearts of the Frontier", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!

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