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  ZONDERVAN

  Hero's Bride

  Copyright © 1993 by Jane Peart

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Zondervan.

  ePub Edition June 2009 ISBN: 978-0-310-85322-0

  Requests for information should be addressed to:

  Zondervan Publishing House

  Grand Rapids, Michigan 49530

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Peart, Jane.

  Hero's bride / Jane Peart.

  p. cm. — (The Brides of Montclair series : bk. 11)

  ISBN 0-310-67141-8

  1. Family—Virginia—Williamsburg Region—Fiction. 2. Williams­burg Region (Va.)—Fiction. I. Tide. II. Series: Peart, Jane. Brides of Montclair series : bk. 11.

  PS3566.E238H4 1993

  813'.54—dc20

  93-19162

  CIP

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  Edited by Anne Severance

  Cover design by Art Jacobs

  Cover illustration by Wes Lowe, Sal Baracc and Assoc., Inc.

  93 94 95 96 97 98 99 00 01 / LP / 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2

  Contents

  Cover Page

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Part I Blue Skies

  chapter 1

  chapter 2

  chapter 3

  chapter 4

  chapter 5

  chapter 6

  Part II Till We Meet Again

  chapter 7

  chapter 8

  chapter 9

  Part III Over There

  chapter 10

  chapter 11

  chapter 12

  chapter 13

  chapter 14

  Part IV No Coward Soul

  chapter 15

  chapter 16

  chapter 17

  Part V

  chapter 18

  chapter 19

  chapter 20

  chapter 21

  chapter 22

  chapter 23

  Cast of Characters for Hero's Bride Mayfield, Virginia

  About the Authors

  About the Publisher

  Share Your Thoughts

  This book is gratefully dedicated to

  Bob Hudson,

  senior editor at Zondervan,

  in appreciation for his supportive encouragement,

  his enthusiasm and help

  Hero's Bride

  Prologue

  August 1914

  From: Katherine M. Cameron

  Cameron Hall

  Mayfield, Virginia

  To: Mrs. Owen Brandt

  Good Shepherd Parsonage

  Harristown, Ohio

  Dearest Twin,

  The events of this past month are unreal, aren't they? Just a few weeks ago, Lynette and I were at Birchfields visiting Aunt Garnet in the peaceful English countryside, and now England is at war with Germany.

  Mama is terribly upset. You know she lived in England for nearly ten years before coming back to Virginia and marrying Daddy, and still has lots of friends there. She has also traveled in Germany and remembers it as such a beautiful place, famous for its music and culture.

  But she is mostly concerned because of Bryanne. She keeps saying that she wishes I'd brought her back with us when Lynette and I returned in June. But you know Aunt Garnet, Car a. She wouldn't hear of it. She said that one child was enough of a responsibility for me on a long ocean voyage and that she would bring Brynnie over herself later. Of course, that's out of the question now. With the Germans prowling the high seas, Aunt Garnet says it's much too dangerous to think of crossing the Atlantic.

  As if that weren't all Mama had to worry about, Jeff still refuses to come back from New Mexico. Mama thinks Gareth should be in a more normal home situation, not living with a widowed father in an art colony. She thinks it's very bad for these three motherless children to be growing up in separate homes, under entirely different circumstances. How can they ever feel like a family again?

  She's probably right. Brynnie has already acquired an English accent. Can you believe that?

  It's hard to understand why these things happen, isn't it? How everyone could be so happy one minute, and the next, ripped apart by a tragic accident like the sinking of the Titanic. Remember how we used to think that Jeff and Faith and their children lived a kind of fairy-tale existence at Avalon? It was almost Cameiot come to life.

  How does Owen explain such things? As a minister, he ought to have more insight into the problem of pain in innocent lives than we do.

  I still find it hard to think of you as a minister's wife, Cara. I just never imagined you teaching Sunday school and chairing the Ladies' Guild. I guess nobody else did, either. But when you said you'd follow Owen to the ends of the earth, I guess you meant it. Still, it's a good thing it was just to a little rural town in Ohio in a small country parish, not Africa, isn't it?

  What did you think of the news that Jonathan and Phoebe Montrose have a baby boy? Kip seemed stunned that his father is starting another family. The christening was last Sunday—a lovely party at Montclair—and the baby is darling. They've named him Fraser, after Phoebe's oldest brother. Of course, she is disappointed that they had to call off their trip to Scotland because of the war. Also, she's worried about her nephews, all at an age for military service.

  Things are as usual here. We miss you always. I don't think I'll ever get used to the idea of not having you near to talk thingsover with, or to wake up in the mornings and not see you in the next bed.

  But I do know how happy you are, so that makes me happy, too.

  Love, Kitty

  Part I

  Blue Skies

  Mayfield, Virginia

  Autumn 1914

  Blue skies, smilin' at me,

  Nothin' but blue skies do I see

  —a popular song

  chapter

  1

  SUMMER FLOWED gently into fall, after lingering longer than usual in the Virginia countryside. The days were brilliant still, but darkness came more quickly now.

  This autumn the colors were dazzling, the elms that lined the driveway up to Cameron Hall were golden against the dark green pines of the surrounding woods, the dogwoods were ruby-red and the maples on the lawn were butter-bright tinged with crimson. The gardens too were ablaze—saffron-yellow, russet, and amber chrysanthemums glistened like jewels in the September sunshine.

  This was her favorite time of year, Kitty Cameron decided as she bent over her plants in one of the flower beds. Out in the crisp fall air, the combination of scents—ripening fruit in the orchards, distant wood smoke, the rich smell of earth—was exhilarating. Even the mundane chore of digging up tulip and gladiola bulbs for winter storage gave her enormous pleasure.

  Rod Cameron, corning out onto the columned porch of the stately Georgian house that had been his family's home for generations, caught sight of his daughter. He stood at the edge of the steps and watched her work, her expression one o f total concentration.

  After a moment he strolled over, pausi
ng beside her. "Must be in the genes."

  Kitty smiled up at him. "Well, I was named for Grandmother, wasn't I?"

  It was a family joke that Kitty's love of gardening must have been inherited from Katherine Cameron, who, in spite of having at least four gardeners at Cameron Hall during its "glory days," had insisted on doing much of her own work.

  Looking into his daughter's upturned face, Rod was startled by a fresh recognition of how pretty she was. The sun, glinting on her auburn hair, enriched its vibrancy. One strand fell forward, and she brushed it back with an impatient gesture that left a smudge of dirt on her cheek. Her long-lashed eyes were softly brown, like his adored wife's. But where Blythe's face revealed the deep contentment of a long and happy marriage, there was something vulnerable about Kitty's that tugged at her father's heart.

  He had tried to give his daughters everything possible to assure their well-being, but the one thing he had never been able to give them was happiness, so often found in unexpected places. Cara, Kitty's twin, was a prime example. She'd found hers in marriage to a penniless preacher! Unconsciously, Rod sighed. Impetuous and independent as she was, he missed Cara.

  Turning his attention to Kitty again, he remarked, "I suppose you're right. As they say, 'blood will tell.'" Then with a wave he walked away, striding down the gravel drive toward the stables.

  Kitty's glance followed his tall figure. Except for the slight limp, a token reminder of the wound he'd acquired during the War Between the States, her father appeared much younger than his sixty-odd years. He was still handsome with strong, aristocratic features, thick gray hair, an erect bearing.

  Recalling her father's teasing, Kitty cast a brief look at the metal marker verdigrised with age, placed among the rosebushes years before by her grandmother and read the quotation: "The kiss of the sun for pardon,/the song of the birds for mirth,/You are nearer God's heart in a garden/Than anywhere else on earth." It spoke of her serene spirit, and Kitty was glad once again to be considered very like the other Katherine.

  She returned to her digging, working steadily until she heard the sound of a motorcar roaring up the drive. Kip, she guessed, even before she saw the shiny green roadster round the bend of the driveway and pull up in front of the house, scattering gravel stones as he braked.

  Kitty sat back on her heels and waved to him. "Good morning!"

  Kip Montrose gave her an answering wave, then vaulted over the door of his open runabout and started over to join her.

  At his approach, Kitty's heart flip-flopped foolishly. It happened every time, no matter how hard she tried to control herself. Everything about Kip—his saunter, the roguish smile, his tousled dark hair, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes—caused this ridiculous reaction.

  Kitty felt her face grow warm. She ducked her head, pulled up a bulb, and pretended to focus on shaking the dirt from its root. "What are you doing up and about this early?" she asked with studied casualness.

  "I'm about to let you in on a secret," he teased, grinning down at her.

  Kitty looked skeptical. "What kind of secret?"

  "What do you mean what kind? A secret's just that, a secret," he retorted. "Come on, 'Mary, Mary,' don't becontrary. Let your garden grow on its own for a while. I want to take you someplace."

  "Oh, Kip, I can't," she protested. "I'm right in the middle of all this."

  "Let it go," Kip demanded impatiently. "Come on, Kitty.

  Making mud pies can wait. This is important."

  "And what I'm doing isn't?'

  "Not as important as what I'm about to show you."

  "Why are you being so mysterious? Why don't you just tell me? Let me decide—"

  'Trust me, Kitty. Come on."

  Slowly she dragged off her gardening gloves and brushed her skirt. Thrilled as she was that Kip wanted to whisk her away with him, she didn't want to appear too eager, ready to drop everything at his spur-of-the-moment invitation.

  Feigning reluctance, she said, "Well . . . I'll have to change—"

  "For Pete's sake, Kitty, you don't have to change!" Kip sounded exasperated. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. "You look fine. Just dandy."

  Puzzled at his insistence, Kitty hung back. "Wait, Kip. I do have to tell Mother I'm leaving."

  "All right. But hurry! We don't have all day!"

  Kitty threw Kip a reproving look as she hurried past him, up the terrace steps and into the house. Kip was used to having his own way. She really shouldn't accommodate him so easily, she reminded herself. But, as usual, she didn't have the will to resist.

  Inside, Kitty went to find her mother. Blythe was in her sitting room at her desk when Kitty stuck her head in the door and told her she was going for a drive with Kip.

  Unbuttoning the brown canvas gardening smock, Kitty flung it on a chair and grabbed a cardigan sweater from the coat tree in the hall. With one hasty peek in the mirror, she gave an ineffectual pat to her hair, then ran out the front door and down the steps.

  Kip was already behind the driver's seat, looking as if he were about to hit the horn. Seeing her, he reached over and opened the door on the passenger side.

  "Where are we going?" she asked as they started off.

  "You'll see."

  At the end of the driveway, Kip shifted down and made a sharp turn onto the country road. They were soon bumping over the ruts at some speed. Hunched over the wheel, Kip was curiously intent on his driving, with none of his usual irritated comments about the road conditions or "Why didn't the county fund paving now with so many motor vehicles about!" Instead, he seemed wound up as if with suppressed excitement.

  Suddenly, he jammed on the brakes and spun the wheel to the left, sending the vehicle bouncing down a lane that seemed hardly more than a cow path.

  "Slow down, Kip, for goodness sake!" Kitty pleaded. "My teeth are being shaken out of my head!"

  "Sorry, Kit! It's only a bit farther now."

  "But where? This looks like a dead end to me."

  Just ahead was a cattle gate. Kip slammed the brake pedal, then jerked the hand brake. Jumping out of the car, he walked over to open the gate and swing it wide. In a flash he was sliding under the wheel again, and they proceeded into an open field.

  "Kip! We can't drive through here!"

  "Don't worry, Kitty. It's all right."

  She gripped the armrest as they plowed ahead over the uneven ground. Then straight in front of them she saw a large cleared space in the middle of the meadow. A few makeshift, weather-beaten sheds and a large barn-like structure stood at the end.

  Kip brought the car to an abrupt stop and announced triumphantly, "Here we are!"

  "Here we are . . . where?'

  "Bell Park Flying Field.''

  "Flying field?" she echoed. "I don't understand."

  "You will." Kip got out of the car. "Come see."

  Kitty remained where she was, bewildered as to why he had brought her to this deserted place. While she was still wondering, the barn door slid back and a lanky man in coveralls emerged, wiping his hands on an oily rag as he walked out into the sunshine.

  Kip waved and shouted to him. "Hiyah, Beau!"

  "How's yourself, Kip?"

  The two greeted each other like old friends. Kitty was puzzled as she observed them. She thought she knew most of Kip's friends, but this man was a stranger to her. Finally, as if remembering her, Kip jerked his head in her direction, and together they strolled back to the car.

  Offhandedly, Kip introduced them. "Beau Chartyrs. Kitty Cameron."

  At closer range, Kitty could see that the other man, in spite of his grease-smudged face, was quite good-looking. He grinned.

  "Nice to meet you. Kip said he was going to bring you out soon."

  The idea that Kip had discussed her with this stranger puzzled Kitty even more. Who was this fellow? And what was going on here?

  "So, how's it going?" Kip asked Beau.

  "She's a sweet little bird." Beau smiled. "I took her up this morning, and the
engine's purring like a kitten." He paused, then asked, "I gather you want to take 'er up yourself, right?"

  Kitty turned a startled gaze on Kip. He met it, his own eyes shining.

  "You-you're going to fly?" Kitty was incredulous.

  "Sure thing. I've been taking flying lessons for six weeks or more. In fact, I'm almost ready to take my test for a certificate to become a licensed pilot."

  "Does your father know?"

  "Not yet. Anyway, you're the only one I've told. So now you're in on the secret and can't say a word until I give you the green light." He fixed her with a fierce glare.

  "Kip, that's not fair."

  "Now, Kitty, don't turn all righteous on me. Besides, I wanted you to be the first to know, to see for yourself." He turned to Beau. "All set? Then let's go. Now, Kitty, this is a two-seater. Beau's an experienced pilot and he's going along . . . just in case—"

  "Just in case of what?' she gasped.

  "Don't worry, Miss Cameron. Kip's a natural," Beau reassured her. "He'll be fine."

  Speechless, Kitty watched as the two men pushed the airplane out from the barn with the help o f an even grubbier fellow in grease-spotted coveralls whom Kip called Mike. Then Kip shrugged into a leather jacket, donned a helmet-like cap, and after giving her a broad wink, pulled goggles down over his eyes and climbed into the front cockpit o f the flimsy-looking little plane.

  Beau clambered into the rear seat and signaled to Mike, who ran around in front and started spinning the propeller. It made such a roar that Kitty had to cover her ears.

  She stood rigidly as the winged vehicle wobbled over the uneven grass down to the end of the field and made an uncertain turn. Then, before her eyes and with the engines making a huge racket, it began to race down the cleared path, faster and faster, until it lifted from the ground into the air.

  "Oh, dear Lord!" she prayed aloud, clasping her hands tightly together in a heartfelt prayer.

  Running out behind them, she followed the ascent of the plane as it climbed higher and higher into the blue September sky. Even as she tracked its progress, the plane seemed to be swallowed up in the clouds and finally disappeared from sight.

  It all seemed like some kind of dream. When the two young men returned from their flight, Beau congratulating Kip on achieving a perfect landing, Kitty was still trying to take it all in. On the way back to Cameron Hall, she rode in shocked silence.