Sky Dreams

Untitled

SKY DREAMS, Book 3

Sky Series

By

Keta Diablo

About Sky Dreams

In Sky Tinted Water and Sky Dance you met Dawson and Rory Finch and shared in the journey of their love. Now, in Sky Dreams, you’ll meet their daughter, Haven.

In 1893, Haven Morgan is a young widow. Heartbroken and alone after her husband's tragic death, she travels to Cobb's Grove, Minnesota to teach at the country school.

Her curiosity is piqued when she meets the handsome supervisor of the local lumber mill, Cade Kincannon, but the trauma of her husband's death haunts her days and torments her dreams.

Can Cade break through the veil of darkness shrouding Haven, forge a path to her heart and convince her it's alright to love again?

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Chapter One

Cobb's Grove, Minnesota

1893

Haven Morgan stared at the disheveled miscreants who followed her outside to the half-circle deck of the train. Perhaps leaving the stuffy confines of the coach for a breath of fresh air had been a mistake.

She took a step back, acutely aware of the cool, brass railing pressing against her waist. "What do you want?"

"Ticky and me don't mean no harm, lass." The grizzled, brown beard and shoulder-length hair gave the stocky Irish stranger a menacing appearance. He pulled a flask from inside his vest pocket and shoved it under her nose. "How 'bout sharing a little dram with us?" Grimy fingernails dug into the soft flesh of her forearm.

"Remove your hand, sir!"

"Kind of sassy for a woman traveling alone, aren't ya?"

Danger bells went off in her head. "The liquor has dulled your senses and your sight. My brother's inside and he'll be looking for me any minute now . . .." She allowed the lie to trail off while she looked over his shoulder toward the door.

Tiger-like, Ticky advanced until he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his cohort, effectively blocking her escape. "Biff and me would give a week's wages to see what's hidden under that long skirt."

The reek of alcohol wafted around her. "You ain't got no man with you." Biff gave a derisive snort. "We been watching you ever since the train left St. Paul."

The man called Ticky crashed to his knees when the door slammed into his backside. An astonished Biff whirled on his heels to face the intruder.

Tall enough to stoop as he passed through the doorway of the coach, the man's dark grey eyes, intense and confident, assessed the situation quicker than she could draw breath. He tipped his hat in her direction before pinning the ruffians with a scathing glare. "I believe you're bothering my fiancée."

Ticky scrambled to his feet, scratching his rump. "Now see here, we were just funnin' with her."

Pewter eyes softened when they met hers. "Are you all right, my beauty?"

An incredulous look crossed Ticky's features. "Beauty?"

"My beauty." Her savior's eyes darkened. "I take great issue with anyone messing with what's mine." He glanced to her again, the corners of his mouth curling into a slight smile. "Did they harm you?"

Aware of the tension in her voice and in the air surrounding them, she eked out the words. "No-no…not yet."

"Now, hang on, Mister." Fear glinted in Biff's eyes. "Don't get all worked up. How were we to know she's spoken for?"

"Oh, I'm not worked up, not yet anyway, but I'm only going to say this once: There are two ways off this train; one, over the railing." He shagged his head toward it. "The other, through that door behind me. Which do you prefer?"

"Now hold on a minute, Mister!" Ticky gulped, his Adam's apple sliding up and down in his scrawny throat. Dragging his prone body up, he inched his way to the door. "We'll be on our way, then."

The stranger pulled one shoulder back, leaving a small opening for the inebriated passengers to squirm past him.

A long sigh escaped Haven's lips when the door closed behind her rescuer. She brushed a hand across her forehead, her voice shaky. "Thank you, sir. I had no idea I'd be followed. Overcome by stuffiness, I needed a breath of fresh air."

"You won't find much of that out here, ma'am."

Acrid black smoke spiraled up her nostrils as she studied the terrain. "I see that." She clutched the railing to steady herself. "Why is there so much smoke?"

Coming toward her in a noiseless stride, he touched her arm. "You're as pale as chalk dust. Are you certain you're all right, Miss . . ."

A choking sensation overwhelmed her, whether from the atmosphere outside or the incident, she didn't know. "I will be in a moment, thank you, and it's Mrs."

"Sparks from the wheels start fires along the tracks, and it doesn't take much, dry as it's been for months." His eyes narrowed. "Nothing but gray haze from here to Cobb's Grove now, Mrs."

"Morgan, Haven Morgan. Isn't that rather dangerous… the fires along the tracks?"

"Can be if they get out of control. You're not from here, are you?"

A sliver of light outlined his tall frame, broad shoulders, narrow waist and long legs. Handsome in a masculine way, his features were symmetrical and balanced, his eyes stamped with compassion. His nose was straight, his jaw firm, and the sensual mouth, pure perfection.

"No," she said forcing her thoughts toward his last question. "I'm from southern Minnesota, the new teacher—"

"You're a schoolmarm?" Straight white teeth flashed behind the striking smile. "Could've blown me over with a breeze."

His cool assessment of her caused the heat to rise in her cheeks. "You don't like schoolteachers, Mister . . ."

"Cade Kincannon, ma'am." He extended an arm. "And I haven't been fond of them since I took a ruler across my hand in fifth grade after tugging on Margaret Kissel's braids."

The smile appeared again, delighting and disarming her at the same time. His white cotton shirt was open at the neck, topping a pair of snug-fitting denim britches. Dark brown hair, streaked with sunlight, framed his tanned face.

She placed her hand in his and gave it a firm shake. "I don't believe in punishing rambunctious children with rulers, although I admit I was tempted when Johnny Martin placed two frogs down Belinda Jackson's jumper last spring."

"That must have caused quite the uproar." He shook his head with a chuckle and then changed the subject. "You'll be teaching at the new schoolhouse in town, then?"

"No, at the country school on Pratt Sinclair's farm and living in the guest cottage on the property. Emery Woodward hired me. Do you know the Sinclairs or Emery?"

"I know them well; you'll be in good hands."

"That's reassuring." With that simple admission, strength returned to her shaky legs. "Emery plans to meet me at the depot when we disembark."

"That will be an hour from now." A scowl creased his forehead. "I'll have your word you'll remain in your seat until then."

His commanding presence, even out here in the wide-open space of the balcony surfaced. She imagined it had been there all along, but flustered from the incident with Ticky and Biff, she hadn't recognized it until now. "Thank you, Mr. Kincannon, but I assure you, I can take care of myself."

When she stepped toward the door, a gentle hand lingered on her forearm. "How remiss of me not to recognize that moments ago." His cool tone brought another flush to her cheeks. "Cobb's Grove's a lumbering town, teeming with hundreds of jacks this time of year. You shouldn't be strolling around without an escort, or for that matter, traipsing through the woods alone once you settle in at the Sinclairs."

"Jacks?"

"Lumberjacks—an ill-bred lot at times."

"I'll keep that in mind." She dropped her gaze, swept past him and opened the door to the coach, mumbling over her shoulder, "Again, my sincere thanks."

Scanning the interior of the car, she was relieved to see the misfits had made a prudent choice to move on. Still upset over the incident outside, she slumped into her seat and turned toward the window. While the St. Paul and Duluth passenger train climbed a small crest, she noticed a bold and brilliant sun had risen above the treetops since she'd left her seat. Right now, it seemed determined to cast golden shafts of light across the countryside.

The landscape had changed since boarding in St. Paul. At home, summer had yawned in anticipation of fall, although the trees were still dressed in lush, green branches. Adobe-hued cliffs, rolling hills and dense forests of cottonwood, jack pine, elm and oak provided the backdrop for the only home she'd ever known. But here…she clucked her tongue against her cheek while scanning the land. Two words came to mind…barren and bleak. Remnants of great white pine littered the prairie. They'd been severed, like her heart, and left to rot in a harsh, cruel world. Cade Kincannon's words echoed in her ears. "Jacks . . . lumberjacks."

How would she ever adjust to the stark contrast between home and here? It's a tad too late for second thoughts, girl. Determined to change her attitude and bolster her spirits, she pulled a letter from her reticule and read it again.

Dear Mrs. Morgan,

I'm delighted you've agreed to accept my offer. The schoolhouse (a quaint, rustic structure, although quite serviceable) and your future residence are located in the northwest corner of Pratt Sinclair's farm five miles north of Cobb's Grove. I'm sure you'll agree it suits the needs of rural children who are unable to travel to the new school in town. I'll meet you at the train station upon your arrival.

Fondest regards, Emery Woodward, Schoolmaster

PS: Look for a bespectacled gent wearing a red bandana

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