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Christy

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Overview

The Women of Primrose Creek This second book in a series about four women who inherit a plot of land in the Nevada Territory after the Civil War finds new marshal Zachary Shaw attracted to Christy the moment she and her sister arrive in Primrose Creek. But Christy is determined to ignore her heart, and Zachary needs to convince her that they belong together.

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Author Information

Bio of Linda Lael Miller

In 2006, New York Times bestselling author Linda Lael Miller left the Arizona horse property she's called home for the past five years and listened to the call of her heart. Packing up her dogs, Sadie and Bernice, and her four horses, the author of more than seventy novels bid farewell to her home in the desert and returned to the place of her birth, Spokane, Washington. The daughter of a town marshal, Linda grew up in Northport, WA, a community of 500 on the Columbia River, 120 miles north of Spokane. Her childhood remembrances include riding horses and playing cowgirl on her grandparents' nearby farm. Her grandparents' spread was so rustic that in the early days it lacked electricity and running water. As delightful as this childhood was, Linda longed to see the world. After graduating as valedictorian of her high school class, she left to pursue her dream at the age of eighteen. Because of the success of her writing career, Linda was able to live part-time in London for several years, spend time in Italy and travel to such far-off destinations as Russia, Hong Kong and Israel. Now, Linda says, the wanderlust is (mostly) out of her blood, and she's come full circle, back to the people and the places she knows and loves. Before Linda begins her writing day, she takes her first cup of coffee while enjoying the scenic view of the wooded draw behind her new home. The first morning there, a snowfall blanketed the pine trees, something she had missed in the desert outside Scottsdale. Still enamored with the people she came to love in Arizona, she says she will still set books in that starkly beautiful area, and, of course, Washington. Devoted to helping others pursue their dreams, the author will launch her seventh round of the Linda Lael Miller Scholarships for Women in May 2007. A talented speaker, she donates all her speaking honoraria to her scholarship fund. The stipends are awarded to women who seek to better their lot in life through education. It's no wonder the protagonists in Miller's novels are women her readers admire for their honor, courage, trustworthiness, valor and determination to succeed, despite overwhelming odds. "These qualities make them excellent role models for young women," Miller explains. "The male leads possess equally noble traits that today's woman would be delighted to find in her life's mate." The author traces the birth of her writing career to the day when a Northport teacher told her that the stories she was writing were good, that she just might have a future in writing. Later, when she decided to write novels, she endured her share of rejection before she made her first sale.

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Additional Info

Imprint

Pocket

Filesize

343.10 KB

Number of Pages

168

eBook ISBN

9780743448277

Excerpt from: Christy by Linda Lael Miller

Prologue
Fort Grant, Nevada
1868

With no small amount of trepidation, Christy McQuarry peered through the late Mrs. Royd's limp lace curtains, assessing the man sent to fetch them home to Primrose Creek. It had been alarming enough, during the long, dull winter passed at Fort Grant, to consider putting herself, Caney, and especially Megan, her younger sister, in the charge of some mere passerby for the remainder of the journey. A grizzled old prospector, for example, or one of the seedy-looking scouts who came and went on occasion, foul-smelling and full of horrendous tales involving Indians and outlaws. For some indefinable reason, she found this particular man, fair-haired and blue-eyed, insolently handsome in his ordinary but obviously clean clothes and well-worn hat, almost equally disturbing. He rode a splendid cocoa-brown stallion with a pale mane and tail, and a .45 caliber pistol rested low and easy on his left hip, seemingly as much a part of him as a finger or a foot.

"I don't like him," she confided to Caney Blue, the tall and angular black woman who had worked on the McQuarry farm, back in Virginia, for as long as Christy's memory reached. Which, since she was nearly twenty, was a considerable distance. "He's too handsome. Too sure of himself."

Caney was smiling her broad and luminous smile, watching as the man dismounted and offered a hand and a grin to the aging army officer who had gone out to greet him. "That so?" she said, her dark eyes following the man as he spoke with the colonel in the street just beyond the window of the modest parlor. There was precisely one house at Fort Grant, if indeed such a rustic structure could be described as a house, and it belonged to the recently widowed commander of the installation, Colonel Webley Royd, who had kindly given the place over to the women upon their arrival the previous October with the first flurries of snow. "Well, I think he's right purty. And I like a man who thinks well of himself."

A star-shaped badge glinted on the front of the visitor's shirt, and Christy clamped her back teeth together for a moment, without quite knowing why a stranger should affect her so. She might have been struck by a runaway freight car, so great and so confounding was the impact of merely seeing him. What would it be like to actually meet him? To travel in his company?

"Colonel Royd told me his name is Zachary Shaw," Megan put in eagerly, from her post on the other side of the window. Being just sixteen, she could not be expected, Christy supposed, to exhibit any real degree of good judgment. She had a headful of dreams, Megan did, and at the same time one of the finest minds Christy had ever encountered. She meant to see that her sister didn't waste that gift by settling for a house and a husband and a half dozen babies, which she feared Megan was wont to do. "He's a U.S. Marshal."

He's trouble, Christy thought to herself. At just that moment, as if to confirm this opinion, Marshal Zachary Shaw seemed to sense her perusal; his gaze met and captured hers through the gauzy veil of lace. Held it fast.

Infuriated, and stirred in a way that was not entirely proper, Christy glared at him, in hopes of hiding the fact that she could not look away until he chose to release her.