To Love a Man: Finding Love, #4

To Love a Man

The Finding Love Series, Book 4

By

Dianne Reed Burns

Copyright

This book is a work of fiction.  The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real.  Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

All Rights are Reserved.  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

To Love a Man, The Finding Love Series, Book 4

Copyright © 2014 by Dianne Reed Burns

Cover design by Dawn C. Charles of Book Graphics

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my daughter,

Tammy.

A teacher, a librarian, a writer,

and a computer whiz.  Thank you

so much for helping your old mom.

I couldn’t have done it without you!

Book List

The Finding Love Series:

Deaf Love: A Short Story - Book 1

The Power of Love - Book 2

Love’s Little Rewards - Book 3

To Love a Man  - Book 4

Love Hurts - Book 5

Worthy of Love - Book 6

Teach Me to Love  - Book 7

Love’s Elusive Dream - Book 8

A Healing Kind of Love - Book 9

All books can be read as stand-alones; however, you will see repeating characters throughout the two trilogies.  To purchase or read more about any of these titles, please read the excerpts at the end of this book, or click here.

Book Description

Clay Montgomery had been working as a Game Warden in Texas, when he suddenly inherited a fishing lodge from his uncle.  Upon moving to the Sangre de Christo Mountains in New Mexico, he now had his new life planned out, and he only had to please himself.

Then suddenly, Hannah, falls into his world.  An amnesia victim who has been chased, shot at, and possibly kidnapped, if only she could remember.  As Hannah recovers, she finds she likes her new life, at the lodge, and wants to stay with Clay.  But the wedding band, on her finger, may hold other possibilities.  When she experiences a shocking discovery, her memory comes flooding back, with the heartache of the mother she lost, and the bitterness of the father, who used them both, to get what he wanted.

Will Hannah and Clay weather the storm, of finding out who she really is?  Or will the truth tear them apart?  Only time will tell.

Prologue

The attractive young woman sat at the antique dresser, looking at her vision in the mirror.  She dabbed a little make-up here and there, not really being into it.  Turning her face from side to side, she watched her reflection, seeing how appealing she really was.  She thought her best asset was the azure blue, perfectly almond shaped eyes.

She sighed heavily and rose gracefully, from the Louis XIV chair, bored with her thoughts.  Walking to the seventeenth century antique canopy bed, she threw the blue satin robe she wore, carelessly onto the floor, in favor of the expensive white Victorian mid-calf sundress, hanging on the door of the huge, full, walk in closet.

She pulled the dress off the lavender scented padded hanger, and over her head, adjusting it on her slim, petite body.  After fluffing her short, mahogany colored hair, she slid her small feet into strappy, Italian made sandals.

She looked lazily toward her bedroom door, upon hearing an aggressive, impatient knock.

Yes?  Who is it? she asked disgustedly, at being disturbed.

No one answered.  There was just another damn annoying knock.

Who is it? she snarled impatiently, becoming agitated at the disturbance.  Walking purposefully, in a huff, to the door, she jerked it open.  Two nasty, dirty men grabbed her arms as she let out a scream of despair.  Before the scream was completed, the biggest one caught her from behind, and stopped it with a grimy hand over her soft mouth.

She tried to wriggle out of their grasp, but the struggle was useless.  Hysteria took over her thoughts, as she heard a rip at her side.  The short man slapped a piece of gray tape over her mouth, just as the big one removed his hand.  She fought them with all she had, but it wasn’t enough.

I need help!  Where is help?  My father, the maid, the cook! Where are they?  Can’t they hear my desperate thrashing?  she thought to herself.  These . . . derelicts are hurting me!  My arms hurt!  I’m scared!  Somebody please help me, she cried silently.

Be still, the tall man whispered gruffly in her ear.  We ain’t gonna hurt ya if you’ll be still and cooperate, bitch.

She writhed and squirmed harder, trying to get away.  The putrid smell of his foul breath and rotting teeth, made her feel sick to her stomach.

Come on you moron, the big man said to the little one.  Help me get her to the car.  We use the back stairs. Thems the orders.  Now get movin’!

It was hard going because she never stopped fighting.  In less than ten minutes, the two derelicts worked their way down the long upstairs hallway, with the woman held between them, and down the back stairs, to the hallway below.  As the two men drug her through a short space, near the kitchen, she saw her father standing just off to the side, in the doorway of a storage room.

Daddy, help me!  Please!  Why won’t you help me? she pleaded silently, her eyes full of fear as she looked to him for rescue.  She grabbed for him and yanked the soft pale pink rose boutonniere off his expensive, tailored suit coat.  She watched him move back into the dark shadows of the room, as the two goons slipped her through the kitchen, past the pantry, and out the back door.

They roughly manhandled her across the yard, as she continued to fight and kick.  They pushed her through a tall, thick, prickly hedge, that left bleeding scratches and welts on her arms, legs, and face, and her expensive dress severely torn.  The bums threw her into the back seat of an old, dirty car, where the smaller guy crawled in behind her, keeping a strong hold on her wrist.

The first chance she got, she jerked the sticky tape off her mouth with a wince.  What are you doing, you filthy bastards? she screamed.  Where are you taking me?

The big one got behind the wheel and the little one grabbed her other wrist, tightly, so she couldn’t jump out of the car.

Just shut the hell up, lady, the driver said gruffly, looking over his shoulder back at her.  You’ll find out soon enough.

The car was started and they pealed away from her childhood home, burning rubber.

Stop! she screamed.  This is kidnapping, you ignorant morons!

The two bums looked at each other and began a loud, hysterical laugh.

Chapter 1

Thanks for listening to KMNT country radio, here in New Mexico, where the days are cool, the trees are tall, and the mountains are high.  It’s a nice, comfortable seventy degrees, on this early mid-September, Monday morning, as we go to Marty Gill for an extended outlook of the local weather.

The big, brawny, sandy haired man reached for the radio knob and turned it until it clicked off.  The bubbly, cheerful voice of the female disc jockey was beginning to be a bit much for him, at the moment.

Clay Montgomery’s face, bronzed by the wind and the sun, was held high with pride as he thought about what lay before him.  He was on his way to his new life, filled with enjoyable, satisfying work.  He never knew making a living could be so good.

While he’d been working as a Game Warden, at White Fork Lake near Cramer, Texas, it had taken a lot of hard work and training, to get established in the business, and learn the ropes.

Only his days off had been devoted to his favorite sport of fishing.  Getting to hunt wild game had become a thing of the past, since the obligations of his job took precedence over long hunting trips.

He’d thought Amy Young was his first real passion, until she’d left to marry Trey Barrington, an Oklahoma rancher and oil man, she’d met while he was vacationing at the lake.  Clay had soon found out it was infatuation and that he could live without her, even though it was hard at times, and he still thought of her often.

He was now going to make Lone Wolf Lodge his life and his home.  His Uncle Milton had recently passed away and left the resort to him in his will.  It had been the old bachelor’s life and now it would be his, as well.

His mother’s only brother had lived a quiet, useful life, running the lodge in the Sangre de Christo Mountains in New Mexico.  The resort itself was not far from Santa Fe, and Clay had spent many youthful summers in these mountains.

Sangre de Christo, he spoke out loud.  The Blood of Christ.

Those summers seemed so long ago now, at this time in his life.  But he was sure he could enjoy many adventurous summers again.

Uncle Milton had left Clay’s twin sister, Connie, a cash inheritance upon his death.  But Clay didn’t care about the money.  He was more than happy to be the proud owner of the, ever popular lodge.

Where as his sister, did need the cash.  Her two-year-old son, and she and her husband’s only child, had been born with Cystic Fibrosis.  The cost for his care was more than her construction-working husband could make to offset the insurance.

He loved his nephew and hated the idea of his disease, but more than that, he felt his twins heart-breaking agony and pain.  The last time little David had a severe attack and was hospitalized, he knew something was wrong before his sister had ever made the call to him.  So he did understand why Uncle Milton had left the cash to her.  And he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

From the familiar landmarks, he began to notice through the windshield of his four-wheel drive vehicle, he was getting closer to the wilderness lodge.  The tall, straight pines were reaching their needled fingers toward a cloudless blue sky.  The strong fragrance of the trees seemed to actually clean the air.  Clay had thought the air around the lake smelled new after a rain, but this…the mountain air was so much more refreshing.

The big man came to the bend in the mountain lane that marked the last three miles of his journey.  He drove slowly on the dead-end road and the weather was good, but he knew in the bad weather months, that it and others were virtually impassible at times.

But he didn’t care.  He knew it wouldn’t bother him to be snowed in during the winter by himself.  If he had food and heat, he had plenty of things to occupy his time and keep him busy.  Hoping to do some serious hunting and fishing before winter really set in, he planned on laying in a supply of taxidermist tools and supplies and feed his indoor hobby.  He decided the main room of the lodge would be a good place for some trophy animal displays.

He stopped the vehicle on the road in front of the lodge.  A thousand wonderful memories came flooding into his thoughts, as he remembered the times spent here fishing, with not only his uncle, but also with his dad.

His poor dad.  That horrible virus they call cancer, had taken him in the prime of his life.  Just at the time he was really beginning to live and enjoy himself.  Then, in less than a year after the death of his father, his mother had grieved herself into an early grave, with a broken heart, because she missed the husband so much, that she’d been married to for sixty-one years.

Now it was just he and Connie and her family.  And poor Connie had a time of it in her own right.  The woman barely had time for herself.

The lodge looks great, he thought, coming out of his memories.  A couple of minor repairs from what I can see.

It looked like there was some minor damage on a section of the porch frame, and he could see a huge tear in one of the screens that enclosed that porch.  He’d have to see to it right away to keep the insects out.  The outdoor seating area was a favorite relaxing spot in the evenings, after the last meal of the day had been served.  There had been many a game of cards and dominoes played out there.

Well, no time to get started like the present, Clay told himself.

He drove a little farther down the road until he came to the drive leading up to the lodge.  Making a left turn, he pulled in front of the large log structure and parked.  After killing the vehicle’s motor, he crawled out thinking that the first thing he needed to do was air out the rooms and advertise that he was open for business once again, even though it would be for a short two and a half months or so, before the heavy snows began to fall.  Clay eased up the lodge steps, leaning heavily on his cane, and opened the screen door that led onto the porch.  He turned and smiled at the old benches, swing, table, and rocking chairs, littering the area.  Lots of fishing stories had been told while occupying those seats.

He extracted the lodge key from his jean’s pocket that he’d received from the lawyer in Santa Fe early that morning.  After opening the big wooden door that led into the main room, he stepped inside, and breathed a deep sigh of satisfaction.  He spread his legs, in his tight faded jeans, and planted his booted feet firmly on the worn hardwood floor.  He reached in front of him, placing his large, well-shaped hands on top of the head of the cane, stretching the blue plaid flannel shirt taut across his tight, muscled back.

Not many changes had occurred at the lodge over the years.  The exterior and interior was completely made up of the large natural pine logs the structure was made from.  Heavy brown, leather couches, recliners, and thick wooden rockers dotted the main room his uncle always called the den.  Each seat had an individual Indian blanket throw, in multiple colors, for the lodger’s convenience.  A massive native stone fireplace was the focal point, taking up one corner of the huge front room.  Four large wagon wheel light fixtures hung from the heavy pine beams crossing the ceiling area of the big room.  It was a great lodge.  A rustic getaway, where you could go fish or think about life, and always share the day with friends.

Walking farther into the den, he noticed the thin layer of dust covering the furniture and lamps, and the usually shiny hardwood floors, sparsely covered with bright native Indian rugs.

It would all need a good cleaning to start off with.  His cash flow was limited so he couldn’t afford to hire anyone to clean just yet.  This time he’d do it himself and later, he would see about hiring someone to help out.

The first major expense would be the hiring of a cook.  Since all meals would be taken as a buffet and eaten at the long wooden table at the other end of the huge room, no waiters or waitresses would be needed.  And when a fisherman’s stomach was full, he didn’t care what his surroundings looked like anyway, dusty