To Win Her Favor Read online

  ACCLAIM FOR TAMERA ALEXANDER

  “Tamera Alexander is one of my favorite authors, so I expect a lot from her novels. To Win Her Favor is captivating beyond expectation! This novel has everything readers are looking for—rich characterization, page-turning intrigue, a heartwarming romance charged with tension, and more!”

  —Cindy Woodsmall, New York Times and CBA bestselling author of Amish fiction

  “I have rarely read a more wonderful book than To Win Her Favor by Tamera Alexander. Rich with historical detail and fully developed characters, this novel held me spellbound until the last page. If you read one historical novel this year, make it To Win Her Favor. It will linger with you long after the last page.”

  —Colleen Coble, USA Today bestselling author of the Hope Beach series and The Inn At Ocean’s Edge

  “Marriage of convenience stories are my favorite and To Win Her Favor by Tamera Alexander is no exception. The challenges and dynamics of the unlikely relationship between a southern lady and handsome Irishman sizzle with tension and passion. The plot is as powerful as the magnificent thoroughbreds the heroine rides. A moving story of overcoming post-Civil War obstacles and racial discrimination, readers won’t be able to put down the book until the last page.”

  —Jody Hedlund, bestselling author of Love Unexpected

  “To Win Her Favor is a beautiful love story, not to mention a story of faith that shines through in the darkest circumstances. From the very beginning, I lost my heart to Cullen and Maggie and yearned for the moment when they would lose their hearts to each other. Add to everything else a sleek thoroughbred named Bourbon Belle, and this novel quickly galloped its way onto my list of favorite books.”

  —Robin Lee Hatcher, bestselling author of Love Without End and Whenever You Come Around

  “Tamera Alexander has done it again! To Win Her Favor is peopled with fascinating, richly drawn characters that drew me into their very hearts and souls. Maggie and Cullen’s story captures the drama and tragedy of the post–Civil War era, but more importantly, it captures the humanity of those who triumphed after a dark time in our nation’s history to rebuild lives marked by joy and anchored by faith.”

  —Deborah Raney, author of The Face of the Earth and The Chicory Inn Novels series

  “Tamera Alexander delivers a beautifully realized novel of love, faith, and redemption. Brimming with rich historical detail and populated with compelling characters both real and imagined, To Win Her Favor is certain to find favor with Ms. Alexander’s fans and to win her many new ones.”

  —Dorothy Love, author of The Bracelet

  “Tamera Alexander has done it again. Her imagination and skillful pen intertwined with history takes the reader on a beautiful journey. To Win Her Favor is sure to stir the heart and open the mind.”

  —Jenny Lamb, Director of Interpretation & Education Belle Meade Plantation

  “Already a USA Today bestseller, [To Whisper Her Name] draws a fresh thread in this author’s historical fiction tapestry. Tamera Alexander’s painstaking research into the people, places, and times of which she writes is evident on every page, and she depicts the famous residents of post-bellum Nashville with great detail and even greater affection.”

  —USAtoday.com, Serena Chase

  “Alexander writes a beautiful story of love, friendship, and finding purpose.”

  —RT Book Reviews, four stars (for To Whisper Her Name)

  “. . . pure reading pleasure.”

  —Liz Curtis Higgs, New York Times bestselling author of Mine Is the Night (for To Whisper Her Name)

  “Two-time Christy Award winner Alexander continues her historical series with this sweeping Southern romance that is engaging and full of hope. Recommended for fans of Robin Lee Hatcher and Francine Rivers.”

  —Library Journal (for A Beauty So Rare)

  “Bestseller Alexander will delight fans . . .”

  —Publishers Weekly (for A Beauty So Rare)

  “Better than sweet tea on a veranda, A Lasting Impression is a winner!”

  —Francine Rivers, New York Times bestselling author of Redeeming Love

  “To put it simply: This book is a full-on HIT.”

  —USA Today (for A Lasting Impression)

  “. . . Making an impressive debut, Alexander has written a charming historical romance that features well-drawn characters and smooth, compelling storytelling that will have readers anxiously awaiting the second installment of the Fountain Creek Chronicles. Highly recommended . . .”

  —Library Journal, starred review (for Rekindled)

  Books by Tamera Alexander

  Belle Meade Plantation Novels

  To Whisper Her Name

  To Win Her Favor

  To Mend a Dream (novella)

  Women of Faith Fiction

  The Inheritance

  Belmont Mansion Novels

  A Lasting Impression

  A Beauty So Rare

  Timber Ridge Reflections

  From a Distance

  Beyond This Moment

  Within My Heart

  Fountain Creek Chronicles

  Rekindled

  Revealed

  Remembered

  ZONDERVAN

  To Win Her Favor

  Copyright © 2015 Tamera Alexander

  ePub Edition © April 2015: ISBN 978-0-310-41316-5

  Requests for information should be addressed to:

  Zondervan, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49546

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Alexander, Tamera.

  To win her favor / Tamera Alexander.

  pages ; cm. -- (A Belle Meade plantation novel ; 2)

  ISBN 978-0-310-29107-7 (softcover)

  1. Horse racing--Fiction. 2. Belle Meade Plantation (Tenn.)--History. 3. Tennessee--History--19th century--Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3601.L3563T665 2015

  813'.6--dc23

  2014044831

  All Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version.

  Any Internet addresses (websites, blogs, etc.) and telephone numbers in this book are offered as a resource. They are not intended in any way to be or imply an endorsement by Zondervan, nor does Zondervan vouch for the content of these sites and numbers for the life of this book.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

  15 16 17 18 19 20 / RRD / 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  To Polly Chandler Alexander

  I’m so grateful our together forever started here

  Contents

  Preface

  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 Twent
y-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Epilogue

  A Note from the Author

  Discussion Questions

  Acknowledgments

  Aunt Issy’s Lemon Cookies

  An Excerpt from to Whisper Her Name

  Prologue

  About the Author

  For thou hast been a shelter for me,

  and a strong tower from the enemy.

  Psalm 61:3 (KJV)

  Preface

  During the nineteenth century Tennessee dominated the thoroughbred racing industry in the United States, with Belle Meade Plantation in Nashville serving as the preeminent stud farm in the nation. Does the name Secretariat sound familiar? What about Sunday Silence and Seattle Slew? Those champion thoroughbreds and countless others all trace their lineage to this estate, the setting of my Belle Meade Plantation novels.

  The first time I stepped foot onto the Belle Meade grounds and learned about the Harding family, “Uncle” Bob Green, and so many others who lived and worked at Belle Meade in the nineteenth century, I knew I wanted to write stories that included them, the magnificent property, and this crucial time in our nation’s history.

  While this novel is peopled with characters who lived during that time, as well as real historical events, their overarching personalities and actions as depicted in this novel are the product of my own imagination.

  Thank you for entrusting your time to me. It’s a weighty investment, one I treasure and never take for granted.

  Blessings from Belle Meade,

  Tamera

  Chapter

  ONE

  Nashville, Tennessee

  May 4, 1869

  Steady, girl,” Maggie whispered, peering down from the bluff, leather reins held taut. The thrum of spectators on the field below rose on the cool morning breeze, and she leaned forward to stroke the thoroughbred’s neck. “Wait,” she gently coaxed, anticipation sparking the air. “It’s coming . . .” But even as she said it, her own pulse edged up a notch.

  Bourbon Belle pawed the dirt, and Maggie sensed the mare’s restraint growing thinner by the—

  The gunshot sounded. The horses on the racetrack below bolted from their marks, as did Bourbon Belle, and exhilaration fired through Maggie’s veins.

  Belle surged to life and Maggie gave the horse her head, allowing the mare to surrender to every instinct the animal’s sleek-muscled body commanded. To run.

  Belle’s hooves pounded the smooth dirt path, and Maggie imagined that this was what Willie experienced when he raced Belle around the track below. Except the boy was less than half Maggie’s weight, so he and Belle all but flew, just as she expected the pair to do again at the heat later this week.

  One and a quarter miles, barely a two-minute race. But the thud of Maggie’s heart marked the time as Belle rounded the familiar curve in the path, the mare’s powerful stride devouring the distance.

  Crouching forward, as she’d trained Willie to do, Maggie felt the wind whipping the pins from her hair, and she relished the freedom that only this kind of riding could bring. And though she knew the peace was temporary at best, she embraced it.

  Belle thundered down the path and Maggie urged her on, the starting point looming just ahead. At that moment a chorus of cheers rose from the field, and Maggie looked to see a thoroughbred flashing across the finish line below. Belle powered onward, slowing only when Maggie tugged the reins.

  Breathless, Maggie paused and let the pungent sweetness of the field grass fill her lungs. She reached to scratch the place between Belle’s ears. “You did well, girl.” Maggie took another needed breath. “I was the one who slowed us down.”

  Belle whinnied as though acknowledging the fact, and Maggie smiled.

  The winnings from the upcoming heat—if Willie and Belle won, which they would, Maggie felt certain—wouldn’t come close to paying the back taxes owed on Linden Downs, but she hoped it would be enough to pacify the Tax and Title Office. Again.

  Belle had won her last five heats, and considering the number of races scheduled at Burns Island Track, that meant a fairly reliable source of income for the next few months. But what Maggie’s sights were set on—if Linden Downs could survive that long—was the inaugural Peyton Stakes to be run that fall, the largest race in the country with the highest earning purse in history. And it would be run right here in Nashville at Burns Island.

  And her own Bourbon Belle, the three-year-old she’d raised from a foal, would win that, too, barring any unforeseen competition. The mare’s race times demonstrated that without question.

  So why did the next few months seem like an insurmountable hurdle? She couldn’t bear to imagine that, after holding on for so long, she and her father might lose the only home either one of them had ever known.

  Maggie dismounted, welcoming the chance to stretch her legs and let Belle cool down before starting for home. But as the moments passed and the excitement of the race ebbed in the field below, the reality of her situation returned.

  How had it come to this? Such a jagged end to something she’d worked so hard to hold together. Yet she refused to give in to the despairing thoughts. Not while she still had breath . . .

  And a jockey ready to race only four days hence.

  She would succeed. With Belle, and with Linden Downs. She had no other choice. Her father had been her shelter and strong tower for so long; now it was her turn to be his.

  Maggie retrieved the pack she’d laid aside earlier, along with her rifle. The pack she stuffed into the saddlebag, and her rifle she secured in the sheath tied to it. Racing and shooting all in the same day. The term blissful came to mind, but didn’t quite seem befitting of the activities.

  She climbed back into the saddle and nudged Belle toward home but quickly realized Belle wasn’t interested in trotting. Or even cantering. The thoroughbred wanted to do what she did best.

  And Maggie happily obliged.

  Kneeling on the riverbank, Cullen McGrath stared into the murky waters of the Cumberland, yet saw only shadows of the briny deep that had swallowed his world whole. Never a man to question his own judgment, he’d been bested by doubt more times than he cared to admit since he’d first planted a sodden boot on this country’s soil a year ago.

  Regret had proven to be an equally brutal companion. But of one thing he was certain . . .

  “I’ll be keepin’ my promise to you,” he whispered in the humid morning air, “no matter what the cost.” Were vows spoken aloud in this earthly realm heard in the next? He hoped so. In this moment, at least. His grandfather, who had spoken oft of such things, had assured him of it.

  Aye, Cullen, me boy. ’Tis naught but fools who believe this life is all there be. The world comin’ after ’tis far greater. And the secret of livin’ this life to the full is to do it in light of the next. Never forget that you’re—

  “Hey! You over there. The horse is ready.”

  Cullen grimaced at the sharp rein to his thoughts, his grandfather’s brogue still thick within him like mist on the heathlands. People used to tell him as a lad that he sounded like the man, but not
until recent years had he fully appreciated the comparison.

  He rose to full height, but as he turned, movement in the field across the river caught his eye. A horse and rider passing in a flash. Nay, more like a streak of lightning. But was it really a—

  He squinted. Surely not . . .

  Yet the skirts flapping behind the slip of a girl—or was it a woman, hard to tell at this distance—left no doubt. She rode with a freedom and passion that reminded him wistfully of another lifetime. And she rode astraddle to boot. He felt the start of a smile. He hadn’t seen that kind of speed and grace in a horse’s stride since watching Bonnie Scotland race the wind back in—

  “Hey! Are you listenin’ to me, boy?”

  Boy? Bristling, Cullen looked back and directed his gaze to the tree trunk of a man who stood waiting, reins in hand.

  It wasn’t the blacksmith, the owner of the livery, who had accepted his offer earlier—begrudgingly, if the blacksmith’s reluctance to shake his hand indicated anything. But Cullen remembered this fellow all the same. Younger than Cullen by a few years, and cocky, from the looks of him. He’d come in shortly after the blacksmith had agreed to the deal and had stood off to the side watching and listening.

  Cullen crossed the distance, sensing challenge roll off the man in waves. Back in the day he would’ve planted a fist upside the fellow’s head just for looking at him sideways, much less for doing so with such disdain. But Cullen doubted that a blow, even square on, would take down a man this size.

  Yet with his own stature and strength being a fair match, he gauged that one well-placed jab would at least shake a few bolts loose. And considering the anger that had been building inside him in recent months, it would feel good to knock the fool’s head clean off his shoulders. Along with that silly smirk.

  But he needed what he’d come here for today, so instead of giving in to old instincts, he met the man’s stare straight on. He withdrew a wad of bills from his shirt pocket and counted them out, reaching for a civility that had been all but stripped clean in his months of working on the docks at Brooklyn harbor.

  He held out the bills.