Family Love
The Love Brothers
-Book 4-
By Liz Crowe
Family Love
Love Brothers Book 4
Copyright © 2015 by Liz Crowe
Cover Art and Design by Fiona Jayde
All rights reserved.
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Dedicated to Janet Tarry,
Liz’s Mom and the “swear jar” inspiration.
The best and most beautiful things in the world
cannot be seen or even touched.
They must be felt with the heart.
Helen Keller
Table of Contents
Part One
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
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Part Two
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
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
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Part One
Chapter One
Lindsay’s Story
Kentucky horse country
Summer, late 1950’s
“Mama, I don’t want to hear about it.”
“But Lindsay, his parents are expecting this. You know how important it is for the family’s—”
Lindsay froze, hand on the doorknob. “I know my responsibility to the Halloran family, Mama. You and Daddy have made it perfectly clear, multiple times. But that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t like him.” She jerked her shoulder out from under her mother’s palm. “I want to take Zelda for a ride. I’ll be home in time for your stupid dinner.”
“Young lady, you had best watch yourself. I won’t stand for being sassed.”
Lindsay turned and glared at her tall, thin, acerbic mother. As she was about to retort, her brother Frank dashed through the large foyer, distracting the woman long enough to allow Lindsay to duck out the front door.
“Lindsay Alice Halloran, you get yourself right back in here!” Her mother’s shouts carried across the large front lawn, but Lindsay had already decided to keep ignoring her.
For two blissful hours there would be nothing but her, her horse Zelda, and the wide open spaces behind the Halloran Farms row of barns … the very barns she would sacrifice her freedom to save in a few short weeks.
She would save those barns, a duty her parents had scheduled for the summer of her twentieth birthday, by marrying one William Scott, the tall, blond, admittedly good-looking, and utterly vacuous son of a rival horse farm owner. On Lindsay’s wedding day, the eighty-year old Halloran Farms, birthplace of three Derby winners, would once again be on firm financial footing.
When Lindsay entered the paddock and whistled for her, Zelda came cantering over, her gorgeous mane rippling in the breeze. Lindsay had unbraided it after the morning’s dressage tournament—another win for her and this amazing animal—and would swear Zelda let loose a huge sigh of relief when she brushed it out.
Lindsay cursed under her breath at the tears clouding her eyes. “I won’t do it, I tell you,” she said while she stroked Zelda’s silky-soft, jet-black mane. “I won’t. We’ll just pack up, grab Daisy, and take off for … for … oh, hell.”
She pressed her aching forehead against Zelda’s neck. The horse snorted and nodded, stamping her foot, reacting to her young mistress’s foul mood. Lindsay’s chest ached in a way she couldn’t explain beyond the visceral fury at her mother’s assumption that she’d allow herself to be sold off like some kind of medieval princess to a spoiled, rich, brat of boy in a man’s body.
She sighed, leaning against Zelda’s shoulder while she watched her oldest brother, JR—short for “James Jr.”—play cards with one of the stable boys on an overturned bucket. Anger filled her head as she watched him laughing, smoking, and joking around, being the male he was, free to choose whom to marry, what to do, how to act. Her every move had been orchestrated from the second she was born. The only freedom she ever experienced was when she rode one of her horses.
“Come on, let’s take a real ride, since it appears no one is paying you a bit of attention after your bath, poor sweetheart.” She rubbed Zelda’s nose and tossed a larger saddle onto her back, more comfortable than the tiny one used for their earlier work together.
She kept her eyes on JR, making sure he didn’t notice. He’d pitch a fit if he thought she was overriding one of the more expensive pieces of horseflesh they owned. “C’mon girl.” Zelda let out a low neigh. “Shh …” Lindsay put her palm over the horse’s soft, velvety nose. “Don’t tell, or we’ll never escape.”
She climbed up onto the saddle and gave the subtlest of heel digs, letting Zelda know to take off like a bat out of hell. Which the horse did, putting the full force of her thousand pounds and eagerness to run free behind the effort. Lindsay blew JR a kiss, laughing when he jumped out of their way.
“Hey! Linds! You aren’t supposed to take her out again!”
But Lindsay ignored him, giving Zelda her head, and concentrating instead on the wide-open green fields and the deep blue Kentucky sky. Lindsay had been present at Zelda’s birth, and had trained along with her, earning them plenty of ribbons and trophies.
Patrick, the Halloran Farms manager, had been skeptical about Zelda’s trainability, calling her “too stubborn and single-minded.” But Lindsay’s father, James, the man she loved with all her heart, had just laughed and reminded Patrick that since Lindsay was no better in the stubbornness department, the two of them should get on like a house afire.
And they did. Their hours of illicit riding, begun the minute Zelda was broken to the saddle, helped them bond, which Lindsay believed was important … even though her new riding instructor insisted that it took Zelda three days to calm down and pay attention to their training after one of their rides.