Выбрать главу

Family Love

The Love Brothers

-Book 4-

By Liz Crowe

Family Love

Love Brothers Book 4

Copyright © 2015 by Liz Crowe

Cover Art and Design by Fiona Jayde

All rights reserved.

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced

in any form without permission.

For more information:

Lizcroweauthor@gmail.com

www.lizcrowe.com

 

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

They may not be re-sold or given away,

except as provided in promotions sponsored by the author.

If you would like to share this book with another person,

please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

If you are reading this book and you did not purchase it, win this copy during a promotion or, if not purchased specifically for your use only,

then please delete this copy and notify Liz (lizcroweauthor@gmail.com).

We encourage you to purchase your own copy

and support the author's hard work in their craft.

Dedicated to Janet Tarry,

Liz’s Mom and the “swear jar” inspiration.

The best and most beautiful things in the world

cannot be seen or even touched.

They must be felt with the heart.

Helen Keller

Table of Contents

Part One

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

Chapter Nineteen

Part Two

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

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Epilogue

Love Liz Crowe?

Part One

Chapter One

Lindsay’s Story

Kentucky horse country

Summer, late 1950’s

“Mama, I don’t want to hear about it.”

“But Lindsay, his parents are expecting this. You know how important it is for the family’s—”

Lindsay froze, hand on the doorknob. “I know my responsibility to the Halloran family, Mama. You and Daddy have made it perfectly clear, multiple times. But that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t like him.” She jerked her shoulder out from under her mother’s palm. “I want to take Zelda for a ride. I’ll be home in time for your stupid dinner.”

“Young lady, you had best watch yourself. I won’t stand for being sassed.”

Lindsay turned and glared at her tall, thin, acerbic mother. As she was about to retort, her brother Frank dashed through the large foyer, distracting the woman long enough to allow Lindsay to duck out the front door.

“Lindsay Alice Halloran, you get yourself right back in here!” Her mother’s shouts carried across the large front lawn, but Lindsay had already decided to keep ignoring her.

For two blissful hours there would be nothing but her, her horse Zelda, and the wide open spaces behind the Halloran Farms row of barns … the very barns she would sacrifice her freedom to save in a few short weeks.

She would save those barns, a duty her parents had scheduled for the summer of her twentieth birthday, by marrying one William Scott, the tall, blond, admittedly good-looking, and utterly vacuous son of a rival horse farm owner. On Lindsay’s wedding day, the eighty-year old Halloran Farms, birthplace of three Derby winners, would once again be on firm financial footing.

When Lindsay entered the paddock and whistled for her, Zelda came cantering over, her gorgeous mane rippling in the breeze. Lindsay had unbraided it after the morning’s dressage tournament—another win for her and this amazing animal—and would swear Zelda let loose a huge sigh of relief when she brushed it out.

Lindsay cursed under her breath at the tears clouding her eyes. “I won’t do it, I tell you,” she said while she stroked Zelda’s silky-soft, jet-black mane. “I won’t. We’ll just pack up, grab Daisy, and take off for … for … oh, hell.”

She pressed her aching forehead against Zelda’s neck. The horse snorted and nodded, stamping her foot, reacting to her young mistress’s foul mood. Lindsay’s chest ached in a way she couldn’t explain beyond the visceral fury at her mother’s assumption that she’d allow herself to be sold off like some kind of medieval princess to a spoiled, rich, brat of boy in a man’s body.

She sighed, leaning against Zelda’s shoulder while she watched her oldest brother, JR—short for “James Jr.”—play cards with one of the stable boys on an overturned bucket. Anger filled her head as she watched him laughing, smoking, and joking around, being the male he was, free to choose whom to marry, what to do, how to act. Her every move had been orchestrated from the second she was born. The only freedom she ever experienced was when she rode one of her horses.

“Come on, let’s take a real ride, since it appears no one is paying you a bit of attention after your bath, poor sweetheart.” She rubbed Zelda’s nose and tossed a larger saddle onto her back, more comfortable than the tiny one used for their earlier work together.

She kept her eyes on JR, making sure he didn’t notice. He’d pitch a fit if he thought she was overriding one of the more expensive pieces of horseflesh they owned. “C’mon girl.” Zelda let out a low neigh. “Shh …” Lindsay put her palm over the horse’s soft, velvety nose. “Don’t tell, or we’ll never escape.”

She climbed up onto the saddle and gave the subtlest of heel digs, letting Zelda know to take off like a bat out of hell. Which the horse did, putting the full force of her thousand pounds and eagerness to run free behind the effort. Lindsay blew JR a kiss, laughing when he jumped out of their way.

“Hey! Linds! You aren’t supposed to take her out again!”

But Lindsay ignored him, giving Zelda her head, and concentrating instead on the wide-open green fields and the deep blue Kentucky sky. Lindsay had been present at Zelda’s birth, and had trained along with her, earning them plenty of ribbons and trophies.