The Return Of Chase Cordell. Linda Castle

the readers. She encourages and welcomes comments to be sent to: Linda Castle, #18, Road 5795, Farmington, NM 87401. Please include a SASE for a reply/bookmark.

      As always, I thank God for my life and the people that love me; Bill, Billy, Liann, Brandon and Logan. They continue to show patience and understanding when none is earned or deserved. Hugs and kisses to Matt and Will, my grandsons.

      

      There are many unsung heroes who cross my path each day—it is impossible to name all my friends, who read snippets of dialogue and listen to me whine, but please know I do appreciate you all.

      

      Thanks to two extraordinary women I am proud to count as friends, and without whom this book would probably not exist—Margaret Marbury, my editor, and Pattie Steele-Perkins, my agent.

      

      And last, a special note of gratitude to the people who really make this possible: the readers. Thanks to every person who has taken the time to read my books and write to tell me how my words made them feel—this one is for you!

       Chapter One

       Mainfield, TexasApril, 1864

      Linese dipped the quill pen into the ink and tried to put her thoughts on paper before the rush of inspiration left her. Her lace cuff slipped down toward her wrist, and she im-patiently took the time to secure it with the stained black garter around her arm. She dared not show up at the train with ink on the sleeves of her frock.

      “What time is it, Hezikiah?” She glanced up at the small man swathing ink on the big flat-head printer.

      “About ten minutes later than the last time you asked me.” He swiped his hand across his face and turned his snowy beard a grizzled gray with a fresh smear of newspaper ink.

      “I’m sorry. I hoped to get this editorial finished before the train pulls in.” Linese bit her lip and tried to concentrate on the paper in front of her. Chase’s homecoming kept intruding on her, leaching off her ability to make coherent thoughts. The war was over for Chase, even though the fighting continued over the question of secession. Linese wanted this editorial, more than any other before it, to be a testimonial to the courage and honor of both sides in the bitter conflict dividing the Union, particularly since she knew it would be the last she would ever write.

      “I suppose, with Mr. Chase returning, this will be the last time we’ll work together, won’t it?” Hezikiah’s voice halted the scratch of the nib in mid-sentence when he gave her very thought life.

      She looked up at the old gentleman, who, more than anyone in Mainfield, had helped her survive the long separation from her husband.

      “Yes, I expect it will.” She set the quill aside. “Hezi-kiah, in case I never get another opportunity, I want to thank you. This paper wouldn’t have endured if not for you.”

      “Nonsense. This paper weathered because you had the grit and determination to make it survive. I’ve worked with a lot of men, Mrs. Cordell, and there isn’t one of them I’d trade for you. You’ve become a right-hand journalist.” Hezikiah blushed bright red before he turned away and busied himself once again with the press.

      “I wish more men in Mainfield thought that way,” Lin-ese muttered. Her words trailed off. She willed her hand to stop shaking while she added the last sentence to her epitaph as a newspaper editor.

      The time Chase had been gone had required her to become a different kind of woman. She feared Chase would be less than pleased to have an independent thinker for his wife. She well remembered the one day he’d brought her to the Gazette. His words had echoed in her mind a thousand times over the past two years.

       “Women who insist on intruding into a man’s domain become shrews and widows. Nothing is so unattractive, to me, as a woman with ideas in her head or ink stains upon her hands.”

      She glanced at her own stained fingers and grimaced. Linese had managed to acquire both offensive traits while Chase was away. The woman she was now was a far cry from the girl he had married.

      Being raised by a pair of aging maiden aunts had compelled Linese to be subservient and pliant. In fact, if she had been any other kind of woman, she never would have married Chase after knowing him fourteen short days. But the war had changed her and the world around her. Unfortunately, the letters Chase had written home had not reflected a similar change in him. Linese sighed and laid the quill aside just as the train whistle blew.

      “They’re crossing the bridge at the gap outside of town.” Hezikiah pulled his watch from his vest and looked at it. “Right on time, too.”

      “Oh, Lord, I’m going to be late.” Linese jumped up and tore off the black garters while she located her gloves. She nearly ripped out the seams in her haste to pull them over her discolored fingers. When she put the bonnet on her head and shoved the hat pin through, she immediately felt the spring heat trapped between the large brim and her neck.

      She wished Chase’s return could have taken place on a day when it wasn’t so oppressively hot. This particular April seemed to be more humid and stormy than usual, or maybe it was just her fears about her husband’s return as a war hero that made her feel like a frog on a hot rock.

      The bright sunshine outside the newspaper office momentarily blinded Linese when she stepped outside. She popped open her parasol and hurried toward the train station. Each step made her boned corset feel all the tighter in the muggy heat.

      Mainfield’s proximity to Louisiana had made it strategically important to the troops on both sides of the present hostilities. Linese only wished that the citizens of the town could enjoy some of the benefits of the community’s location. More and more of late, she had watched people cinching in their belts another notch due to the scarcity of supplies around town. Only a select few of the local businessmen seemed to be prospering during this hard time. The mayor and several other prominent merchants grew fat while all around her she looked into faces grown gaunt from lack.

      Linese turned the corner by the merchants bank and stopped with a gasp of surprise. Not only had a sizable crowd gathered at the train station, but cloth banners proclaiming Chase Cordell a hero were stretched across the front of the buildings along the tracks.

      She had been nervous enough about the homecoming when she thought it would be a private reunion; now pure terror snaked around her heart when she looked at the people who would be observing her every word and deed.

      What would she say to Chase? How should she behave? They had shared a whirlwind courtship of two weeks and one awkward honeymoon night, before Chase rode off to war vowing he’d be back in a month. He had never even told her that he loved her before he left her standing beside his grandfather on the steps of Cordellane.

      Chase Cordell left a shy bride who had dewy-eyed expectations of marriage. In order for her to survive, she had learned to adapt—to grow up. She hoped she would be as adaptable now and that she would survive the next few moments. Linese bit her bottom lip and summoned up her courage.

      She approached the crowd and several heads turned in her direction, destroying the flimsy hope that she might blend in among the mob. One man strutted forward from the throng, sunlight winking off the stickpin on his barrel chest.

      “Mrs. Cordell, come up here. I was wondering what was keeping you—not trouble with the old Captain?” Mayor Kerney’s florid jowls curled into a false smile.

      Linese frowned and fixed a blank stare on her face to hide her annoyance. She strongly resented the mayor’s assumption that Chase’s sweet old grandfather was in any way a bother or a hindrance because of his mental condition.

      “Not at all. I was… detained.”

      “Oh yes, of course. Well, ma’am, you step up here in front.