A Cowboy's Easter Redemption


 
 
 
 “All I want is for someone to trust me,” Clay whispered. “To believe me and know what I say is true.”
 “Oh.”
 “I’m not sure if I’ve met her yet or not,” he whispered.
 “I can’t choose you over my brother.” Allie felt a moment’s anger that he would ask that of her and then she remembered she had been the one to bring up the question about what he wanted.
 “I’m sorry,” she added.
 “So am I,” he answered.
 He pulled away then and they stood there looking at each other.
 She knew without asking that he would not compromise on this point. They were on opposite sides here.
 Clay finally moved to open the door and they walked out of the barn. 
 Sometimes, Allie told herself, a woman had to stick with her family even if her heart wished she could believe something improbable. That was part of being a grown-up. Things did not always go the way one wanted.
 
 
 A Cowboy’s Easter Redemption
 New York Times Bestselling Author 
 Janet Tronstad
 &
 Lois Richer
 2 Uplifting Stories
 Easter in Dry Creek and The Cowboy’s Easter Family Wish
 
 
 
 Table of Contents
 
 Easter in Dry Creekby Janet Tronstad
 The Cowboy’s Easter Family Wish by Lois Richer
 Excerpt from His Alaskan Redemption by Heidi McCahan
 
 
 Easter in Dry Creek
 Janet Tronstad
 
 
 Janet Tronstad grew up on her family’s farm in central Montana and now lives in Turlock, California, where she is always at work on her next book. She has written over forty books, many of them set in the fictitious town of Dry Creek, Montana, where the men spend the winters gathered around the potbellied stove in the hardware store and the women make jelly in the fall.
 Books by Janet Tronstad
 Love Inspired
 Dry Creek
 Dry Creek Sweethearts
 A Dry Creek Courtship
 Snowbound in Dry Creek
 Small-Town Brides
 “A Dry Creek Wedding”
 Silent Night in Dry Creek
 Wife Wanted in Dry Creek
 Small-Town Moms
 “A Dry Creek Family”
 Easter in Dry Creek
 Dry Creek Daddy
 His Dry Creek Inheritance
 His Dry Creek Legacy
 Visit the Author Profile page at LoveInspired.com for more titles.
 
 
 And Jesus said, Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.
 —Luke 23:34
 
 
 This book is dedicated to my new friends at the Covenant Village of Turlock. Thanks for the welcome you’ve given me.
 
 
 Contents
 Chapter One
 Chapter Two
 Chapter Three
 Chapter Four
 Chapter Five
 Chapter Six
 Chapter Seven
 Chapter Eight
 Chapter Nine
 Chapter Ten
 Chapter Eleven
 Chapter Twelve
 Chapter Thirteen
 Chapter Fourteen
 Chapter Fifteen
 Chapter Sixteen
 Epilogue
 
 
 Chapter One
 Snowflakes hit his windshield as Clay West peered into the black night, barely managing to see more than a few yards down the icy asphalt road that lay in front of his pickup’s headlights. He’d exited the interstate and could see the twenty or so frame buildings that made up the small, isolated town of Dry Creek, Montana. This place—between here and the Nelson ranch—had been the closest thing to a home he’d ever known.
 “Not that it worked out,” Clay muttered to himself. He’d first come here as a foster kid, and he’d foolishly believed what the social workers said about him finally having a family. Of course, they had been wrong. Being a foster kid wasn’t the same as being part of a family.
 As he kept the pickup inching forward, Clay studied the road farther ahead until he gradually realized the town did not look the way he remembered. Four years had passed since he’d lived in this area. He’d been seventeen at the time. The heavily falling snow made it hard to see, especially in the dark, so that might have been part of his confusion now. And maybe it was because of the snowdrifts next to them that the clapboard houses seemed shrunken in the storm. But he didn’t recognize the gas station, either.
 Suddenly, he asked himself if he’d gone down the wrong road in the night. There were no traffic signs in this part of the state. There hadn’t been many turns off the freeway, but he could have chosen the wrong one. Maybe he wasn’t where he thought he was. Right then, a gust of wind came out of nowhere. The gray shapes shifted and the town’s church materialized out of the swirling storm. “Whoa.” He braked to a stop, his fingers gripping the wheel and his breath coming hard. He wasn’t as indifferent to this place as he had thought.
 The large white building had no steeple. Cement steps led up to an ordinary double door made out of wood. On the ground, a plastic tarp had been laid over flower beds that went along both sides of the church.
 One thing was certain, though—he was looking at the Dry Creek church and none other. Every year the congregation here forced daffodils to bloom for their sunrise Easter service as a sign of their faith.
 Clay let the pickup idle for a bit and took a few deep breaths. He wasn’t going to be hurried through this town, especially not by his own bad memories. Just then a light was turned on in one of the houses down the road. He tensed for a bit and then shrugged. He told himself that whoever it was would go back to bed. He didn’t need to worry. Clay might not be welcome within a hundred miles of here, but he had every legal right to be where he was. The paper in his pocket made that clear when it stated the terms of the early parole he would earn if he spent the next year working as a horse wrangler on the Nelson ranch.
 The storm lessened as Clay kept going along the snow-packed road. Finally he came to the drive that led to the heart of the Nelson ranch. When he’d lived