At Twilight by Beth Henderson is a Western Fiction/Romance Bookish Event pick #westernromance #historicalwesternromance #historicalromance #mustread #giveaway
- N. N. Light
- 3 hours ago
- 7 min read
Title: AT TWILIGHT
Author: Beth Henderson
Genre: Western Historical Romance
Book Blurb:
On the course of his trek across the green Texas countryside in the spring of 1868, J. W. Walford only stopped at the small, hidden ranch intending to purchase a horse with which to hasten his flight from the law. But when he stumbled across an unconscious woman near the ranch's well, he had no choice but to help the damsel in distress. He never suspected that behind her raven-haired beauty lay the characteristics of a frontier hellion.
When Louisa Burgess awoke to find a handsome stranger had come to her rescue, she thought it was just another of the many daydreams she'd indulged in since the death of her lying, cheating husband. But in the tattered remains of his Union Army uniform, this dark and brooding knight in shining armor was a waking fantasy. J. W. would be the answer to all her problems—her ticket away from the hardships of the debt left by her husband; away from the greedy eyes of banker Titus Gillette.
With Louisa's infant in tow, the pair set off toward an unknown future. Their pasts were full of heartache, and the road ahead promised further trials. But neither was intimidated, for under the grand expanse of the velvety Texas sky, J. W. and Louisa found solace together every evening . . . AT TWILIGHT.
Excerpt:
“You could drive slowly rather than ride past the posse and never be noticed,” she suggested.
Walford’s mouth twisted in a wry grin. “Under a wagon load of hay, I suppose. That still doesn’t solve my problem when it comes to getting another horse.”
“Ranchers and town folks alike would remember you asking for or stealing a horse.” Lou set the items of clothing on the table before him.
Her guest ignored the items and stood erect once more. “Ma’am, I wish you’d just spit it out instead of leading me down the primrose path. There can’t be much time left before your husband shows up and, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather he not find me here.”
“Because of the posse’s possible return?” she asked innocently.
“Because you’re wearing your night things,” he declared.
He sounded a bit aggravated about it, Lou felt. Or was that agitated? She was decently covered from head to toe, the collar of her robe pulled together at her throat, the wide skirt sheltering the rest of her night gown from sight, and Frank’s old boots hiding her bare feet. The mirror had told her she was pale, drawn, had circles under her eyes, and that her hair looked like a cyclone had created her coiffure. There certainly was nothing of a temptress about her.
“Frank won’t mind,” Lou said and turned away from him.
Walford grabbed her arm to stay her.
Lou looked back over her shoulder at him.
As if suddenly mindful of his action, Walford dropped his hand away. “He’ll mind, ma’am. Believe me, he’ll mind.”
“No, Mr. Walford, he won’t.” Her eyes met his steadily. “Frank died last week. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll change. Oh, and watch for the empty bottle on the floor, won’t you? There’s a small cask of whiskey in the cellar from which you can refill it if you feel the need.”
~ ~ ~
Oh, he felt the need, all right, J.W. thought as his amazing hostess walked away from him and dropped the faded drape that screened the bedroom corner of the room.
A widow. A damn shifty widow at that. He understood why she pretended to a husband, all alone as she was in the countryside. What he didn’t understand was why she had told him the truth. Or why she was forcing the cheap suit on him.
J.W. glanced down at the infant who rested contentedly in the flat-bottomed cradle once more. She was so tiny, so fragile. And so wide awake, peering at him from wide pale blue eyes while she waved her small arms, almost as if she was trying to motion him down to her level.
He had always been one to oblige a lady. J.W. stooped down and, unable to resist, gently touched her miniature hand. He was both surprised and pleased when her tiny fingers latched on to his thumb.
“So you want something from me, too, do you, angel?” he asked quietly, so her mother wouldn’t overhear. “If I read her right, you’re taking after your mother in that respect already.”
The infant gave him what looked like the beginnings of a grin, as if she was pleased at the diagnosis, and hunched her legs around beneath the baby-sized patchwork quilt that covered her.
“I’ll do what I can, sweetheart,” J.W. promised. “But I do need to be on my way.”
The baby made a sound that could be taken as a sigh of disappointment, although he knew she didn’t understand a word he said.
It would be easy to get attached to the tiny charmer, he mused, however, the posse would be back. If he was still on this ranch, Lady Luck would abandon him for sure.
Disentangling himself from the little one’s grasp was more of an effort than he had thought it would be. She had a grip that belonged to someone twice her size. “Okay, okay,” J.W. whispered. “I’ll see to things. Hang around until it gets too dangerous.”
As if relieved at the promise, the baby released him and fluttered her lashes, preparing for another nap. They weren’t as long and dark as her lovely mother’s yet, but he figured she’d grow into them in time, using them flirtatiously to twist a fellow’s guts inside out. An unruly thatch of fine, soft brown hair rose up like a rooster’s comb on top of her head and the hint of a delightful dimple appeared to the left of her bowed lips. No doubt about it. He was merely one of the first men to find himself wrapped around her impossibly dainty finger.
J.W. retucked the infant’s blanket into place. The first priority was to rescue the empty bottle at her feet. Even if the whiskey in the cask below was little better than rotgut, it was going to be greatly needed after the events of this day.
Behind the thin blanket barricade around the bed, he heard his hostess humming softly to herself. Her singing voice was pleasant, soothing, but it was her speaking voice that had the power to eat into his soul, spin a web around him. It was fortunate that he was simply passing through, able to escape the captivating blend of southern charm and Latin lilt.
He wasn’t surprised that she had the flavor of Mexico in her voice. Her features and coloring argued in favor of such ancestry. All but the soft shade of emerald in her eyes. Her movements were sensual, graceful, giving the impression that while Anglo women walked, she waltzed along life’s pathway.
The further away from her he got, the better, J.W. decided.
“Mr. Walford?” his hostess called.
“Ma’am?” It was almost ridiculous that, while he knew her child’s name was Angelina, and her late husband’s given name had been Frank, he had no idea what her name was. Better never to learn it.
Maybe it was Maria.
Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub):
Amazon: Kindle http://myBook.to/AtTwilight
What makes your featured book a must-read?
I have to confess that there is something about a western set in the Old West that all the westerns I watched with my dad (in black and white!) when I was growing up probably planted in my brain. And yet, though I fell in love with history the first time it appeared as a subject on the class list, it was the English medieval period that I thirsted for, particularly the War of the Roses. When I got older and met my first husband, his job took us west. He had landed a job in Las Vegas. Because we were both from Ohio, we took in the western landscape around us – lots of desert, ghost towns, and Death Valley. When we hit the Borax Museum there it was a revelation. The Old West from the TV westerns was right before me. The Plantagenets fell out of favor. History to me now belonged to places I could visit and find people still lived there! My enthusiasm jacked up even more when his job took us to Tucson.
AT TWILIGHT is the 5th historical romance I wrote of seven and likely the one I did the most research on because I was combining what current maps and tourist brochures supplied with historical maps and information of what Texas was like in the post Civil War period. I sank myself into the world that would serve as my stage and enjoyed every minute of it.
It always helps to enjoy spending time with my characters and J.W. and Louisa brought problems of their own to be dealt with. However, I will confess that I forced J.W. to break the mustang he needed to ride just so I could describe him flowing up into the saddle. DVDs let me watch Tom Selleck do that a lot and I never get tired of watching it. That promise alone should make this a “must-read” tale just to find when it happens!
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Author Biography:
Beth Henderson is a late bloomer in a lot of ways. She decided she wanted to be a novelist when she was 12 but her first book went to contract when she was 42. She didn’t head for college until she was 38 to snag a BA in History. She started on a MA in History with the Old West her place and era of choice, but had it half finished when a move took her back east where there were no classes in Western History, and she switched to getting the MA in English Composition with an Emphasis in Creative Writing. At the time she already had more novels published than all the professors in the department did when added together. She will admit that her research skills took a major jump with university library collections at her fingertips. Although she writes under many different names and in a variety of genre niches, there is a new western on the drawing board. When it will be written is still in limbo though.
Social Media Links:
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X/Twitter: @Beth__Henderson