Breathless(80)

That evening, after the sheriff departed, Portia sat on her porch and watched the sun go down. Last year at this time she’d been a hard-working, no-nonsense woman with her mind made up on how she would live out the rest of her life. Now she was married to an incredible man, had her own home and her own successful business, and in the spring, she’d be having her own baby. Eddy said she was the walking embodiment of that old saw: We plan—God laughs. She would probably miss her mother for the rest of her life, but Corinne’s actions would undoubtedly make her a better mother, if only in the sense of knowing what not to do. She knew Kent would be a wonderful father, and if the baby was a boy they’d agreed to name him Kenton Oliver Randolph the Second. If it was a girl she’d be named Eddy Regan after the two most important women in her life. Portia missed Regan terribly. Her letters were few and far between, but she hoped her sister was happy. Watching Kent walking up the path to the house, she was so grateful for him and his love. Her naughty cowboy husband was one of a kind and she was glad he was hers.





Epilogue




After fifteen hours of labor and screaming that she’d never let Kent Randolph near her again, Portia gave birth to a healthy, beautiful, eight-and-a-half-pound baby boy. As planned, he was named for his father and grandfather: Kenton Oliver Randolph. Sylvia, who’d been a nurse during the war and was a midwife, aided the delivery. After making sure Portia was well and asleep, she carried the baby out to the parlor to meet his father. “Here’s your son, Kent.”

Taking the precious bundle from his stepmother, Kent’s heart swelled at the sight of the miracle he and Portia had made, then stared up at Sylvia in surprise. “His eyes are open. He’s looking straight at me.”

“I know. As the old people used to say: this one’s been here before.” She went back into the bedroom and Kent sat down in the rocker and held his son. “How are you, little fella?” he asked softly. Kent couldn’t get over how perfect he was. “You know, you had your mama cursing my name in there, but it’s okay. I still love her, and I love you, too. Promised your grandfather, who you’re named after, that I’d tell you that, and I plan to keep my promise.”

He thought about Oliver and how proud he’d be to have a grandson. The baby was looking up into his face as if understanding every word, and it tickled him so much he laughed softly, “I think you’re going to give me and your mama fits.”

Kent sat and rocked his son for a long time. He told him about all the horses they were going to ride and the hunting they’d do. Promised to teach him how to cook and how much he was going to love his great-aunt Eddy and great-uncle Rhine. Kent wanted to sit with the baby forever, but he knew his son needed his mama so, gently cradling the baby against his chest, he went into the bedroom to set him in his cradle and to tell the sleeping Portia how much he loved her. Kenton Randolph the First, former bartender, cat house king, and Mexican prisoner, was now a husband and a father, and the last two descriptions made him the happiest man on earth.





Dear Readers




Dear Readers,

This concludes the second book in the Rhine Trilogy and I do hope you enjoyed it. With all the issues and heartache Portia carried inside, I knew it would be difficult for her to give her heart to someone, but Kent Randolph proved to be the man for the job, even if I didn’t know he would be her hero when the story began. Hope you enjoyed seeing Rhine and Eddy from Forbidden and, yes, they are still very much in love.

The Fontaine Hotel is loosely based on the Mountain View Hotel founded in Oracle, Arizona, in 1895 by Annie Box Neal and her husband William “Curly” Neal, who were both of African-American and Native-American descent. The Mountain View was a combination hotel and spa and catered not only to European royalty but to wealthy visitors from places like Russia, Australia, and China, too. Look them up.

The great Apache chief Geronimo surrendered on September 4, 1886, and was promptly declared a prisoner of war. He and his people eventually wound up in Florida along with the Apache scouts the army employed to hunt him down. He died at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, in 1909.

The Apache warrior Lozen, also captured in 1886, was sent to the barracks at Mount Vernon, Alabama, where she died of tuberculosis in 1887. Although her name has faded from America’s memory, her bravery and fearlessness remains legendary with her people.

I only touched briefly on African-American women and the fight for suffrage but hope to get back to it in depth sometime in the future. Until then, if you’d like to do some research on your own, here are two excellent sources:

African American Women and the Vote: 1837–1965 by Cynthia Neverdon-Morton, et al.

African American Women in the Struggle for the Vote: 1850–1920 by Rosalyn Terborg-Penn



The final book in the trilogy will belong to Portia’s sister, Regan. Will the man she’s agreed to marry sight unseen actually be who he claims to be? We’ll find out.

Thanks again for the support and love. Thanks also for spreading the word about my books to everyone you know. It’s much appreciated.

Until next time, happy reading.

B.