Cassies miracle, p.1
Cassie's Miracle, page 1
Cassie’s Miracle
by
Yvette Blake
www.YBlake.com
Skinny Brown Dog Media
www.SkinnyBrownDogMedia.com
Copyright © 2022 Yvette Blake
www.YBlake.com
All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.
Published by Skinny Brown Dog Media Atlanta, GA
www.skinnybrowndogmedia.com
Distributed by Skinny Brown Dog Media
Developmental Editing and Design by Eric G. Reid
Content Editing by Timothy Swiney
Cover Design by Skinny Brown Dog Media
Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication Data Print
Cover Photo by Helena Taylor Photography
Copyright 2022 by Lena T. Photography. All Rights Reserved.
Cover Model: Shaina Raymond Kurth
eBook ISBN: 978-1-957506-21-0
Hardback ISBN: 978-1-957506-22-7
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-957506-23-4
Case Laminate ISBN: 978-1-95706-3-3
Dedication
I would like to dedicate this to my husband, Bruce Blake, who has been my hero since before we were married, over thirty years ago. Through the many years of balancing work-life and raising our children, he has been there for me, working alongside me, doing his best to be a good husband and father. And especially of late, he has shown an increased amount of love and support, believing in me and my dream of becoming a published author. Without him, “Cassie’s Miracle” would not have been possible.
Acknowledgement
I would like to thank my family and friends who have been there with me from the beginning as I started my writing journey. And especially my Heavenly Father who inspired this series of “Cassie’s Miracle” and lead me to those people who could help me accomplish this monumental feat. The list of friends and family would be too long to name here, but I want all of them to know it is because of each one of you that I believed I could achieve what I once thought to be impossible. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
A special thanks to my mother, Marie Meng, who was my first reader and fan. She has always believed in me and whatever I have endeavored and has been an inspiration to me of what a wonderful mother and wife should be. Her time and talents have always been focused on her family and those she associates with, and we feel of her sincere love and support.
An overwhelming thanks to Peggy Jefferson. God put you in my path and me in yours so that we could become friends and look what a wonderful friendship it has become. You have been a blessing to me since the day I met you. I appreciate all your encouragement as a new writer as you took my work and added your expertise as a line editor. I couldn’t have accomplished this without you, my kindred spirit.
A special thank to Shaina Raymond Kurth for your modeling services and being my Cassie for this cover.
And last but not least, a heartfelt thank you to Eric G. Reid and his team at Skinny Brown Dog Media. His skill as an editor/writing coach and publisher has helped me bring this work of fiction into reality. My dream of becoming a published author and putting my best work out to the world has been made possible due to your guidance. You brought out the best in me and my abilities. I’m grateful that God sent me to you right when I needed you. Bless you and your team for this beautiful masterpiece called, Cassie’s Miracle.
Testimonials
“Cassie’s Miracle is a heartwarming novel that takes you on a journey of loss, love, and finding true joy. Cozy up with this feel-good story of resilience, friendship, love, and kindness while you read about Cassie, Ed, and their friends and family. This should be a Hallmark movie!” ~Alyssa Hunter
“As an avid reader, I truly enjoyed Yvette Blake’s historical fiction story, Cassie’s Big Move and her first historical romance novel, Cassie’s Miracle. Her writing is equal with many fine established authors. Definitely a 5-star rating!” ~Rita Mucci
“As Cassandra Black travels her own trail of tears from tragedy to romance, she discovers true friends and faithful families who support her with unflinching generosity. The “wild west” becomes Cassie’s haven in the midst of deep sorrow, and the miracle of a healing heart. Yvette Blake weaves her story with compassion, courage, and humor, always painting a picture with rich detail underlined with an appreciation of old-fashioned American values.” ~Peggy Jefferson
“Cassie’s Miracle is a fresh and innovative take on the old west. The well-researched details offered interesting insight into this historical romance. I love that throughout the love story of Cassie and Edward, they both have to work through hatred and fear of the people who took those they most loved, to grow toward understanding and empathy—reminding me and giving me hope that I can overcome difficulties in own life. This story provides not only a historical fun romance but takes the reader through the characters struggles to work through the hardest trials people have to face. You find yourself cheering for them both and enjoying their journey. Cassie’s Miracle is such an inspiring story, it gives a feeling of hope and peace, even amidst trials. A book definitely worth reading!” ~ D. Stansel
“I loved Cassie’s Miracle. It kept me on the edge of my seat the whole way through. I’m a sucker for romance and the way this one unfolded was beautiful. I absolutely loved the happy ending. Can’t wait for the rest of the series.” ~Rhonda Floyd
Contents
Dedication i
Acknowledgement iii
Testimonials vii
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15 Getting Ready and Making Plans 299
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
About The Author 439
Chapter 1
Missouri, May 1, 1869
Cassie lay curled in a ball, arms wrapped around her knees, shaking with fright in the wheat field behind her house. She didn’t know how long she’d been there as she drifted in and out of consciousness. Her nightdress was torn and filthy, smeared with soot, dirt, and blood, evidence of her recent battle for life. Cassie was unrecognizable with her matted black hair, tear-streaked face, and bruised frame. Laying there in shock, Cassie’s broken soul wished for the peace that death would bring. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to block out the horrific events of the night, as they flashed into her mind before she fell into unconsciousness again.
It had been a little after midnight when she awoke, dreading the thought of leaving the warm bed where her sister Charlotte lay sleeping soundly beside her. Cassie reluctantly sat up on the edge of the bed and slipped on her boots, not bothering to fasten them before she headed outside to the outhouse. As she tiptoed down the hall, passing the doors to her younger brothers and sister’s rooms, she could hear her father’s soft snoring, at the end of the hall. No one stirred as Cassie crept through the house, feeling her way as she went, being careful not to bump into the furniture. Reaching the dark kitchen, she felt for the lantern and lit it with the strike of a match. Quietly, Cassie went out the front door, closing it softly behind her, not wanting to disturb her sleeping family.
Max, their blue heeler, met her on the porch with a whimper. “Shh, Max. Go back to bed,” she whispered, rubbing his furry head. Obediently, he went back to his favorite sleeping spot, curled up, and watched her momentarily before closing his eyes. Leaving the lantern hanging outside the house on the porch rail, Cassie hurried across the yard chilled by the cool night air, as she raced towards the outhouse, letting the door with the moon cut hole close behind her. Moments later, she heard the blood-curdling cry of attacking Indians.
Max barked ferociously as he stood guard at the bottom of the porch steps. The Indians’ shrill cries intensified as the beating sound of horses’ hooves became louder and louder as the Indians entered the yard. Cassie pulled the outhouse door shut tight and latched it, peeking out through the small crescent hole. In the lantern’s yellow glow, she was able to see a group of war-painted braves as they approached the farmhouse. They were bare chested, wearing buckskin breeches, riding bareback as they circled in the yard with lifted bows strung and ready to release their arrows, aiming them towards the house. Max yelped and collapsed in the yard as an arrow pierced his heart, Max raised his head one last time before falling lifeless in the center of the yard. Cassie covered her mouth to hold in her scream, then ducked down, fearing the invaders would see her. A shock of terror ran through her body as she feared what they planned to do to her family and her.
Cassie heard gun shots ring out from her father’s rifle. Cassie pushed herself into the corner of the outhouse trying to make herself as small as possible. Glass shattered and screams from her mother and two sisters cut through the night. Cassie heard the Indians crash through the fro nt door of the house and she jumped involuntarily as more gunshots rang out. Her brothers must have joined in the fight. Helplessly, Cassie covered her ears, trying to shut out her family’s screams as they fought for their lives.
Cassie sobbed as she prayed. “Dear God! Please help us!”
The sound of crashing furniture and the cries of the struggling family members inside the house fell silent. Cassie slowly removed her hands from her ears. She waited for some clue of who had survived the battle. A high-pitched yelp followed by exuberant screams went up as the Indians rejoiced at their victory. As she heard the sound of glass shattering and feet running just yards away from her hiding place, Cassie’s terror increased, and her trembling body jumped. Cassie sank lower to the floor holding her breath, listening for anyone approaching the outhouse. Being drawn back into the horror of the moment, the smell of smoke reached her. Cassie peeked through a crack between the boards, and saw yellow flames leaping from within the house’s open front door. Windows popped and shattered as the heat from the blaze grew inside the house. Cassie watched, hoping that somehow her family had miraculously survived and would soon escape the inferno that was now their home. Cassie waited in horror as the flames overtook the walls and roof of the home that had been lovingly constructed to protect them. The thick beams of the roof snapped and cracked as they burned, as the roof caved in and came crashing down. Black, torrid smoke began to fill the air, blocking her view of the burning farmhouse and her hopes of anyone surviving.
The smoke began to fill the outhouse burning her throat and choking her. How much longer could she stay hiding? Leaning forward, Cassie peered out a knot hole in the wall, seeing the Indians round up her family’s horses that were in the corral along with her beloved horse, Midnight, as he bucked and kicked, trying to escape the ropes he’d been lassoed with. Cassie restrained herself from screaming out to Midnight as he snorted and whinnied in fear. Flames and cinders spread from the barnyard, and the straw inside the barn caught fire as the other animals inside fled through the open barn doors, scattering into the dark woods. Cassie watched as the Indian party left, taking Midnight and the rest of the family’s horses with them across the field behind the house, then disappeared into the thick trees.
More smoke seeped through the cracks of the small outhouse and Cassie knew if she stayed inside any longer it would soon become her coffin. Flames now licked the roof of the outhouse and the thick black smoke became so overpowering she couldn’t breathe without coughing. Cassie had no choice but to lift the wooden latch and slowly open the door. Hunched over, and eyes stinging, she peered out, searching for any sign of movement. Covering her mouth and nose with the crook of her arm, she tried to silence the violent coughing that began to wrack her body. Cassie stumbled out, blindly trudging through the clouds of smoke as she made her way across the yard to the front of the fully engulfed farmhouse.
“Mama! Papa!” Cassie cried out in anguish. “No!” she wailed as the flames grew higher. “Charlotte! Mark! Nathan! Mary Jane!” she called out, hoping they would call back to her, but her family was silent. “It can’t be!” She hysterically sobbed as her body shook, and her legs began to lose their strength. The scorching heat from the fiery inferno drove her stumbling away from the house back out into the yard, where she collapsed to the ground.
Cassie lay unconscious on the hard packed dirt; her breathing was so shallow she appeared to be dead. Cassie was roused from her stupor as she felt someone grab her by the arms and begin dragging her limp body. “What’s happening?” she wondered in her dream state. “Where am I? How long have I been out?” These questions filled her mind as she tried to regain consciousness. “Was I too close to the fire? Are you taking me to safety?” she screamed in her mind.
When the dragging finally ceased, her arms were freed, and in her semi-consciousness, she tried to command her eyes to open. Her dark lashes fluttered, but her eyelids would not obey and remained closed. Cassie’s freedom was only momentary, as she now felt the weight of someone pressing their body, hard against her. Pinning her down, and placing his large hand around her throat, he began choking her. Adrenaline shot through her veins as she tried to fill her lungs with air. Panicked, Cassie struggled with all her strength, kicking and hitting against the immovable weight, feeling as if she was having a nightmare. Desperately she forced herself awake. As her eyes briefly opened, she made out an Indian’s face, so close to hers, she could feel his breath on her skin. Cassie began frantically clawing at the Indian’s face that was marked with white war paint around his black piercing eyes. He gnashed his brilliant white teeth at her as he laughed wildly. That face would forever be burned into her mind. Cassie squeezed her eyes closed and tried to turn her head away from him, but he was too strong, she was unable to escape. Cassie felt the darkness close in on her as she fell into unconsciousness, and her body went limp as he finished his evil intent.
As Cassie slowly regained consciousness, she remained lying there as still as she could, with her eyes closed, not knowing if he was watching to see if she was still alive. Cassie listened for any sound of the attacker. Once convinced she was alone, she rolled on her side and slowly curled up into a ball, wishing death would come and take her away.
***
As morning dawned, black smoke hung in the sky, signaling to the neighbors a mile down the road, that something was horribly wrong at the Blacks’ home. As Mr. Smith and his oldest son, Jacob, raced the wagon down the road to the Black property, they were horrified to see nearly nothing left of the Blacks’ home, that had once stood proudly surrounded by the rich farmland.
“What do you think happened?” asked Jacob, staring at the charred remains of the home as timbers continued to burn amidst the white ash. Jacob coughed as the smoke burned his lungs and his eyes watered.
“I can’t be sure,” Mr. Smith said as he jumped down from the wagon to stand next to Jacob and began searching the property for clues as to what could have happened. “It doesn’t look like anyone made it out alive,” Mr. Smith added, shaking his head in disbelief at the rubble that had once been a grand home. His heart ached for his dear friends. As Mr. Smith searched the ground for more clues near the remains of the barn, he noticed the horses were gone from the corral. “Look here!” Mr. Smith motioned to Jacob and pointed to the tracks around the corral.
“What is it?” Jacob looked down to where his father was pointing in the soft dirt. They were odd tracks. The footprints weren’t made by boots and the horses’ hoof prints appeared to be made by unshod horses.
“Indians! These prints were made by moccasins,” Mr. Smith declared, as anger built inside him. “Look for others,” he said sharply, and Jacob scanned the loose dirt for more tracks.
Mr. Smith followed one set of prints that appeared to have been dragging something. The trail led him into the wheat field. Mr. Smith noticed something white among the green stalks of wheat and ran towards it. Laying there among the spring wheat, was a young woman in a white nightdress. Mr. Smith knelt beside her, brushing away the black hair covering her scratched and bloodied face.
“Jacob!” he hollered. “I found someone! I think it’s Cassie, she’s alive!” Mr. Smith could barely recognize the Black’s oldest daughter, Cassandra. “Bring the wagon,” he yelled to Jacob as he carefully lifted Cassie. She blinked her eyes in the sunlight as she tried to come to.
Cradling Cassie securely in his arms, Mr. Smith repeatedly shook her. “Cassie, Cassie. Where are the others?”
“The Indians,” she whispered, “killed them all. I was hiding…in the outhouse…” Her eyes closed as her head fell back, exposing the red marks around her neck.
Mr. Smith was shocked by the handprint on her throat as much as he was from her words. “What in the world? Indians! Have our friends been massacred?” he questioned with horror. He couldn’t believe it. Just thinking the words made him sick to his stomach. And yet, here was the proof, all the footprints, the fire and Cassie. There was no other explanation. “Frank and Mary! Oh, and their poor children! Dead,” he thought as the truth sank in.
Mr. Smith remembered stopping over earlier that spring when the Blacks were clearing the surrounding acres and was impressed by Mr. Black and his boys in their efforts to improve the property. Now, scanning the property as he walked through the field, there was nothing left but a pile of smoldering timbers and memories. The devastation was catastrophic, and to think that Cassie had survived. Cassie’s appearance witnessed how barbaric it must have been. “How could they have been so brutal? This poor girl, so young and innocent. How did she manage to survive?” Mr. Smith wondered as he looked at the bruising on her throat and face, tangled hair, and filthy nightdress.
