Strands of Love

Chapter One

“I’m sorry, Sam, but the bank is not willing to loan you any money at this time.” Karen Simmons peered over her thick bifocals, a false expression of sympathy on her face. “Your best option is to sell. The farm is too much for you to run on your own. From what I hear you’ve already sold off all the livestock. Sell before it gets so bad you lose everything.”

Samantha Calloway was shaken to the core of her very being, but outwardly she projected the calm, in-control persona she always did. No way did she want Karen knowing how deep her words cut. The old witch had never liked Sam or her family anyway.

Slowly she stood and gave the loan officer a curt nod. “Thank you for your time.” She turned on a well-worn bootheel and walked out the office door, needing to get away from the annoying hum of the computer and the stale air. She needed to be outside where she could breathe, where she could think.

Sam yanked her father’s old John Deere hat out of her back pocket and pulled it on, yanking the brim low. She didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. The low hush of the bank lobby set her nerves on edge and she had to fight the urge to stand in the center of the room and scream.

Like that would help. The manager Augie Rawlins would only call for the sheriff. Then Sheriff Pritchard would have to drag her off to jail and cite her for disturbing the peace. Wouldn’t that set the tongues to wagging in this town?

No, better to keep quiet for now. She could do all the screaming she wanted as soon as she was home.

Home. If the bank had their way, Calloway Farm would soon be no more. How had it come to this?

Head down, Sam left the bank behind and hurried across the parking lot to her beat-up truck. It was only half past nine, but it was already hot. She’d lost the better part of the morning for this appointment and there were chores waiting to be done.

She ignored the twinge of pain in her chest and wondered how much longer she’d be doing them. How much longer until she lost the land her family had farmed for three generations.

No, she would find a way. There had to be some other solution.

“Sam.” A male voice, one she easily recognized, called out to her.

Her steps slowed. He was the one person in this town she’d stop for no matter how foul her mood. Taking a deep breath, she halted and turned toward the tall, lean man who came up beside her. “Hey, Tim.” Tim Lannon was her father’s best friend and the closest thing to an uncle she’d ever known. And right now he and his wife were the only family she had left.

“Well, what did they say?” He jerked his head toward the bank. He knew all about her meeting with Karen. She’d talked with him about it, wanting his take on things. She often turned to him now that she was alone.

Sam shook her head and Tim swore under his breath. He stopped halfway through his tirade, his face turning red. “Sorry about that, Sam. You didn’t need to hear language like that.”

Impulsively, she reached out and hugged him. “It’s exactly what I needed to hear,” she assured him. Having someone upset on her behalf made her feet not quite so alone.

Tim’s strong arms tightened around her. “We’ll figure something out, girl. Come over tonight and have dinner with Mary and me. You haven’t been over in ages and she misses you.”

Mary was Tim’s wife of thirty years and a surrogate mother to Sam. As much as Sam loved both of them, right now she wanted to be alone to think. She pulled away and shook her head. “Tell her thanks, but another time. I’ve already lost the morning and I’ve got a ton of things to do today.”

Tim scowled, giving his bearded face a fierce expression. If she didn’t know him, she’d probably be half afraid of him. In fact, many folks in town were. But she knew his rough exterior hid a heart of gold for those he cared about. “I won’t be able to hold her off much longer,” he warned.

Just the thought of Tim’s tiny wife bullying her into coming over for supper made her smile. And she’d do it too, because when Mary Lannon put her mind to doing something, it got done. “Okay,” she relented. “I’ll come tonight.”

Tim’s weather-beaten face brightened as he smiled. “That’s a promise I’ll hold you to, little girl.”

Her heart ached at the term of endearment. Her father had always called her his little girl and Tim had picked up the nickname early in her life. Didn’t matter that she was a fully grown woman and stood five eight in her stocking feet.

“I gotta get going.” Sam whirled and walked as fast as she could without running. She could feel Tim’s worried gaze on her as she climbed into her truck and headed out of town.

The window was cranked down and the hot Texas air buffeted her skin as she drove down Main Street. She passed the town limits and hit the single-lane blacktop that led toward home. At this time of the morning, this road was fairly empty. Anyone running errands in town was already there and everyone else was working their spreads—either farming crops or raising cattle.

She passed one lone driver and he raised his hand in greeting. She tooted her horn in return. Everyone knew everyone around Mission Gulch. Like her, many of her neighbors were hanging onto their homes by a shoestring. It was tough all the way around.

She pulled off the road and onto a dirt one, signifying she was home. Her grandfather Horace Calloway had started Calloway Farm back in the fifties. His only son Calvin had taken over in the early eighties. It was supposed to be her brother John’s turn next. But a war and a roadside bomb in Afghanistan had ended that dream.

Sam parked the truck in front of the white clapboard house and stared. What once had been a home, ringing with laughter and voices, was now silent. A house, not a home.

After John’s untimely death, her father had worked himself even harder. Worked himself to death as far as she was concerned. He’d had a massive heart attack six months later and dropped dead in the middle of the wheat field. She’d gone looking for him when he hadn’t turned up for supper and had found him there. It had been too late to save him. He’d been dead for hours.

Her mother, already battling cancer, had given up the fight. Sam had buried her eight months ago.

“Thinking about it doesn’t change it.” She spoke aloud to give herself a pep talk. It didn’t work. Still, she’d had a work ethic drilled into her from the cradle. There were chores to do and sitting here thinking about them wasn’t going to get them done.

She climbed out of the truck and drank in the silence that surrounded her, the peace of the land. It was so quiet here now. She’d sold off the last of the cattle and the horses just after her mother’s death. The medical bills had almost broken her. But she’d found a way to keep her home. The farm had shrunk from five hundred acres to one hundred after she’d sold off some of the land. The price hadn’t been as high as she’d hoped, but it had paid off the worst of the bills and kept the creditors from the door.

Sam didn’t bother going into the house, but headed for the barn instead. She was already wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Maybe she should have dressed up to go to her meeting at the bank, but she hadn’t seen the point. Those who worked there knew most of the money in the area came from farming of one kind or another.

The yard was dusty and she squinted toward the horizon, wondering if there would be any rain today. The cloudless sky made her heart sink. If it didn’t rain soon she’d lose the wheat and hay crop, as well as her experimental fields of sweet corn and green onions.

“An experiment is all it will ever be if the bank has its way,” she muttered. With the smaller size of her spread, she’d decided to try some new crops that other farmers in the area were having success with. If she could get the crop to grow, she could make more money on it than with the traditional wheat and hay her father had always planted to supplement the cattle.

Stepping into the cooler shade of the barn, Sam let the darkness envelop her. She heard a loud meow and looked down to find Arrow twining between her legs. The large male cat had one ragged ear and was totally black except for a patch of white in the shape of an arrowhead on his chest. “Hey, boy.”

Sam leaned down and scrubbed the cat behind his ears, taking comfort from him. “What big plans do you have for today? Mice to catch? Naps to take?”

He blinked his large green eyes and stared up at her. She could almost feel him willing her to go to the bin by the barn door. “Ah, I know what you want.” She headed toward it and he followed closely behind. “Just like a man. Lots of attention when you want something.”

She opened the bin and noted it was getting low. She’d have to pick up some cat food on her next trip to town. Hopefully, there was enough money in the account to cover groceries. Things were getting pretty tight.

Arrow waited patiently while she dumped a scoop full of food into his dish. Then he attacked it, eating with gusto. He purred like a well-oiled motor.

“At least one of us still has an appetite.” She was about to head to the tractor to go check the fields when she heard a vehicle approaching. “What now?” She was tired of dealing with people this morning and just wanted to be alone on her land.

She walked back out into the sunshine and swore under her breath, muttering a few of the choice words Tim had used this morning. Just what she didn’t need—George Rawlins, local lawyer and the man she’d once thought she might marry someday.

He climbed out of his shiny new black truck and smiled, showing a mouthful of straight white teeth. The best money could buy. She’d been fooled by that smile once. By the pleasing features and well-trimmed brown hair. She’d thought he’d genuinely cared about her.

He’d come around after her father had passed, offering condolences and a shoulder to cry on. Wasn’t long until he was offering more than a shoulder.

She’d slept with him and when he’d broached her about selling off some land to help her settle the worst of her family debts after her mother’s death, she’d assumed all he wanted was to help her, to shoulder some of her burdens.

Sam snorted under her breath as he approached. He’d given her plenty of attention until she’d told him she’d sold all the land she intended to. Turned out, he was buying the land himself, and at a rate far less than she would have gotten from another buyer. Then he’d turned around and sold it to her neighbors at the going rate, pocketing the difference. Sam had made the mistake of allowing her grief to blind her to his true nature. Never again. He was one of the reasons she was in the fix she was in.

“Morning, Samantha.”

“What do you want, George?” Sam wished she had a dog, a really large, vicious dog she could sic on her unwanted guest.

“No need to be like that.” He reached out to touch her and she stepped out of reach. No way did she want him putting his dirty paws on her.

“What do you want?” she repeated. Better to hear him out so he’d leave.

He shook his head and sighed, as though he was the wounded party. He was good at that, getting sympathy and making her feel as though she was the one doing something wrong.

Objectively speaking, he was a good-looking man. He stood about six feet with a lean build. His brown hair was kept trimmed in a style that suited him. He usually wore suits to work, but this morning he was wearing new jeans and a crisp, button-down shirt. His boots were the finest leather and shone in the sunshine. Those boots had never seen a hard day’s work. Not like hers had.

“I heard about your trip to the bank.”

Sam stiffened and stood her ground. She’d known it wouldn’t take long for word to get around Mission Gulch that she’d been into the bank to visit Karen Simmons. Everyone in the bank lobby had seen her and there was only one reason anyone had a meeting with Karen—they needed a loan.

She shrugged nonchalantly. “So. You got a point? Day’s a wasting.” She turned and spit into the dirt, knowing the display wouldn’t please him. He’d spent much of their time together trying to turn her into a girly girl, which wasn’t going to happen at this point of her life. She was raised working a farm, following her father and older brother around the fields. She was a tomboy for life.

Not that she didn’t enjoy being a woman, because she did, but George didn’t need to know that. He’d see it as a weakness and do his best to exploit it. George was a snake in the grass. Shame she couldn’t just shoot him to be rid of him like she could any other varmint.

As expected, he took a step back. Probably didn’t want to risk his shiny boots. “I thought you might like to talk about selling the place.”

Sam laughed at his audacity. The man was a total ass. “I have no plans to sell. If I did, you’d be the last man in the world I’d sell to.”

“Now, Sam. No need to be like that. It was just business.”

And to him it had been just business. To her it had been a betrayal. “You bother me any more about this and I’ll call the sheriff. You’re not welcome here.”

George stiffened and fury flashed in his eyes. For a brief second, she was very much aware of being a woman alone in the middle of nowhere. Then the moment was gone and his normal bland expression was back. “I’m in no hurry. You’ll have to sell eventually. And when you do…” He left the sentiment hanging.

She finished it for him. “And when I do, I’ll sell it to anyone but you.” She gave him a fake, sugary smile. “Now leave, unless you want to help me spread manure in the fields.”

He turned on his heel and stalked back to his truck. “I thought not,” she muttered. “That would mean you’d actually have to do some work.” Not that she planned to fertilize, but he didn’t know that.

The tires kicked up dirt as he sped away and Sam was alone once again. Arrow trotted up to sit beside her. “Here to protect me now that the threat is gone, are you?” She stood there until the dust settled. Still, she made no move to go to work.

Sam was tired. Tired of being the strong one, the one to hold things together. She needed someone to lean on and all she had was a disreputable-looking tomcat. There was work waiting, but there was always work on a farm, less now that the animals had been sold, but she was still one person trying to do everything.

“To hell with it.” Sam walked toward the fields, not bothering to detour for the tractor. She wanted to walk the land, to feel the heat on her face, to smell the dirt and vegetation. This was still her land and she wanted to enjoy it.

She set out, her long strides leaving the house and her problems behind. It was just past ten in the morning, but it had already been a hell of a long day.

Jace Hunter shook hands with Radnor Craddock. “We have a deal.” The trade was a fair one and he was now the owner of the massive gray-and-white stallion currently munching on some feed in the stall behind them.

Radnor slapped him on the back. “Good. You’ll share a meal with us before you set out for home.” It was more a command than an offer. Jace glanced toward his brother, not surprised when Darian shook his head. As usual, they were in accord.

Jace turned back to his host. “Thank you for the offer, but we need to be on our way. Looks like there’s a storm brewing and we want to make it home by nightfall.” They’d only been at Craddock Keep a matter of hours, having camped just beyond, up in the mountains the night before.

A light step came toward them and Radnor’s face broke into a smile. Jace knew who was there even before he turned around and she was part of the reason he didn’t want to stay. Roxanne Craddock was a tapestry bride. One of those rare creatures brought to Javara by the magic tapestry to be a bride to some worthy men.

He faced her and bowed in greeting, noting his brother did the same. She was pretty enough with her black hair and gray eyes, but when she smiled at her husband, she positively radiated beauty. Jace swallowed hard, ignoring the ache in his chest. He was thirty years old and felt each of those years. It was hard not to covet what the Craddock brothers had found.

“These are the Hunter brothers.” Radnor put his arm around Roxanne and pulled her close. “Jace and Darian.”

She smiled and offered her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Jace glanced at Radnor, getting his unspoken permission before reaching out to shake her hand. No need to offend his host. Some men were very possessive over their women. They were rare treasures and very protected. “It’s a pleasure,” he assured her.

Darian stepped forward and took her hand. “My lady.”

Jace could feel the tension constricting his chest. “We need to be going.”

Radnor nodded. “We’ll come in a week to collect the agreed-upon spices.”

“That’s fine.” Hunter Keep might not be as large or as prosperous as some, but they did well enough, mostly with spices and plants used in cooking and medicines. Some were very rare and grew only in the mountainous region around their home. Some were deadly unless harvested properly, and those at Hunter Keep kept that knowledge a carefully guarded secret. They also had an abundance of salt, which everyone needed to some degree. It allowed them to trade for what they could not produce themselves.

Sednar, the other Craddock brother, joined them. He had the saddle from Jace’s gelding cinched on the stallion in a matter of minutes. Jace thanked him and mounted the massive horse, bringing him quickly under control. He was a spirited beast and suited Jace well.

“Until next week.” Jace led the way. Darian came behind him leading the horse Jace had ridden here. Neither spoke until they were well away from Craddock Keep.

“That went well.” Darian came up alongside him on the path as he spoke.

“It did.” Jace quickly calculated what was left of this season’s spice crop. “We have enough to barter for some new lambs to expand the herd.”

“I heard Carn sired a litter of pups.”

Jace knew his brother wanted one of those pups to train. Carn was a massive wolfhound owned by the Dannon brothers and was one of the best protectors a man could have for his home and his flock.

“If they’re not wanting too much for them,” Darian continued, “I think we should claim one of them if they’re willing to sell.”

As elder of the two by three years, Jace’s word was the final one when it came to what happened at Hunter Keep. But he always listened to his brother’s counsel.

“He’d be a prime bloodline to breed more pups,” Darian pointed out.

His brother was right and, as usual, they were thinking along the same lines. It was the same reason they’d dug deep into their coffers and paid the price for the horse he was riding. If they could breed the stallion with some of the better mares they already owned, they would likely get some fine colts to fill their empty stables.

They’d spent the last five years since their father’s death trying to make their home more self-sufficient. The old man and his two brothers had almost driven the place into the ground before they’d been killed in a freak hunting accident, buried beneath a deadly landslide in the mountains.

Jace glanced up at the darkening sky. “We can send word to Dannon Keep as soon as we get home. I don’t want to leave again so soon.” His mother was in charge while they were away and, while he didn’t doubt her capabilities, he hated to put that burden on her.

They rode for a few more hours, but Jace knew from the ominous clouds gathering above them, they weren’t going to beat the storm home.

“The wind is really picking up.” Darian glanced toward the woods at the base of the mountains. As if on cue, a bolt of lightning struck the ground, illuminating the world in a brilliant flash of light. A boom of thunder rocked the earth. Fallen leaves and debris kicked up, swirling around them. The horses shied and his new stallion tried to bolt.

Jace held on tight to the reins and wrapped his thighs around the beast. “We need to take cover.” A sense of urgency filled him. Out in the open was no place to be in a violent storm.

The skies darkened further and rain began to pound down, stinging his skin. Jace cursed the weather. He’d hoped they’d be home long before the storm was upon them.

“This way,” Darian yelled above another boom of thunder. His brother led the way to a small outcropping of rocks sheltered by some trees.

When they were close, Jace dismounted and tethered the horse to the trunk of a tree. He didn’t trust the branches to hold beneath the might of the creature.

His hair and clothes were dripping by the time he stepped beneath the outcropping with Darian. His brother was in the same shape, his long, blond hair hung in hanks around his face. The difference was, his brother was smiling. Even now, he found the joy in the power of the storm.

“It’s really coming down, but should blow over quickly.” Darian swiped a lock of hair out of his face.

Jace started to answer, but froze when the air in front of them began to shimmer.

“What is that?” his brother asked.

Jace cursed the fact his sword was still lashed to his saddle, but quickly drew the knife from his boot. It wasn’t as powerful a weapon as his sword, but the blade was six inches long, extremely sharp and he knew how to use it. Darian moved up beside him, his knife in his right hand.

The shimmering solidified and a tapestry hovered in the air in front of them, the rain seeming not to touch it. It was about two feet wide by three feet long and the picture on it changed repeatedly. He’d seen it once years before at Castle Garen. It was the magic tapestry, the one that brought potential brides to Javara from other worlds far away.

“Is that the tapestry?” He could hear the disbelief in Darian’s voice. “Doesn’t it bring a woman with it when it comes.”

They both peered through the thick sheets of rain coming down around them, but there was no one there. The horses whinnied and trumpeted their displeasure as the storm continued unabated.

Jace squinted at the tapestry, watching the image on it change. There were no stone castles or keeps on it. No huts with thatched roofs and no horses. Instead, there was a vast, dusty land with a white structure in the distance.

He leaned forward, drawn to it, wanting to see more.

“No!” his brother yelled. He felt Darian’s hand wrap around his arm and then Jace was falling into darkness, into nothingness. He heard his brother cry out and reached for him. Then the world went black.