It had been Peter’s promise of America that kept Mary going—the thought of a new life beyond servitude, beyond the endless polishing of silver and mending of lace.

Sagebrush Ridge Territory of Kansas September to April 1855   The wind whispered secrets through the tallgrass of the Kansas prairie, rustling the pages of Marian Tate’s latest letter. Ink stained her calloused fingers as she carefully formed each word, her gaze often drifting towards the figure resting on the cot in the corner of her small cabin. Hank Dawson. He’d arrived weeks ago, a broken man found near her property line, feverish and clutching a shattered leg.   Marian,

Margaret Abernathy found the journal six months after Robert died....Then a name appeared that she’d never heard before.

Charles was a master of his craft, known far and wide for his lush rose bushes and sprawling ivy. But there was one flower that had always eluded him—the delicate and elusive lady slipper orchid.

Millicent sighed. At sixty-two, she had weathered enough society storms to know that scandal was as inevitable in their circles as rain in an English spring. “And you’re certain it was him? The fog has been terribly thick these past evenings.”

“We survived a winter,” he had told her that morning, pressing a calloused hand against her cheek, “but it will take work to thrive in the

Isobel MacLaren is regretting her choice to leave Scotland until she sees a reminder of home.

Eight-year-old Eliza Mae Whitaker was a pioneer girl—and a tired one. Her feet ached. Her hands were dirty, and her stomach rumbled...

His mother was coming in with a large plate of gingerbread men. His mouth watered as the aroma of the warm spices filled the air.

Thick fog shifted and swirled between the walls of the large stone house. A weak sun was feebly attempting to shine through