The Rancher's Holiday Hope. Brenda Minton

forgiveness, for healing.

      I pray you find peace, forgiveness,

      healing and a love that is enduring.

      Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       About the Author

       Booklist

       Title Page

       Copyright

      Note to Readers

       Introduction

       Bible Verse

       Dear Reader

       Dedication

       Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Epilogue

       Extract

       About the Publisher

       Chapter One

      Standing in the middle of the Mercy Ranch Wedding Chapel, Sierra Lawson felt almost at peace, as if God was present and this was a real chapel, not just a wedding venue. The building looked more like a stable than a church, but there was something about the sun filtering through the stained-glass windows that touched her soul.

      She’d never expected this to be her healing place. One year ago she would have denied she needed healing of any kind. Now she felt as if she was one step closer to being the person she’d always wanted to be. A person who didn’t allow others to control her happiness.

      She moved to the row of windows that faced east and thought about those horrible days that had changed her life forever just four years earlier. For two weeks she had waited each morning for the sliver of sunlight to appear in her cell. Each of those precious sunrises had marked one more day, one more chance to be rescued, one more day of hoping God heard her feeble prayers as she huddled in an enemy prison in Afghanistan.

      Nothing had been the same for her since. It would never be the same. During her weeks of captivity she’d known fear, pain and helplessness. But she’d also known an unexplainable calm and a hope that didn’t make sense.

      It was because of that experience that she had found her way to Mercy Ranch, a home for wounded veterans just outside of Hope, Oklahoma. And it was due to the ranch owner, Jack West, that she found herself in the position of wedding planner.

      Wedding planner? She still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to take this on. This was the absolute worst job for a woman like Sierra. She was responsible for selling the dream of fairy-tale weddings and happily-ever-afters. Neither of which was something she believed in. She’d seen too much, been through too much, to allow herself to get caught up in those dreams.

      The stillness of the November morning and her quiet reflection was shattered by the steady thump of rotors beating against the air. Sierra backed away from the window and the all too familiar vibration. She waited for the sound of metal and glass hitting hard-packed earth. She tried to convince herself that it had to be a dream. She wasn’t in Afghanistan. The helicopter couldn’t be real. She was not in danger.

      It was the wind beating against something outside. It was late November in Oklahoma and the wind blew on a daily basis.

      Somewhere in the building a door banged shut. Glory, her young assistant, must have arrived early to help with the latest community project. Jack West wanted to bring all of the churches in the area together in a massive Christmas event that would include music, a dinner and gifts for children in the community. It was a big project that made Sierra shudder.

      Cautious, she stepped into the entry and looked around. When she saw nothing suspicious, she moved to close the doors but before she could reach them a sound behind her had her spinning to meet whoever had entered the building.

      Overhead the helicopter still hovered. She caught sight of it out of the corner of her eye. And standing in front of her, a very real little girl.

      The girl couldn’t have been more than eight. The dog next to her was older. The shepherd had grayed the way an old man would and the look in his expressive brown eyes said he knew he had to protect the small person at his side.

      “Hello. Can I help you?” Sierra asked as her heart thudded in time with the beat of the rotors.

      She sounded calm. She took some pride in that. She focused on breathing and what she knew to be reality. The helicopter wasn’t an enemy attacking. Her brain was telling her to flee, to grab the child and run. That was the wrong response. But knowing didn’t stop the panic,