To Wager Her Heart Read online

  ACCLAIM FOR THE BELLE MEADE PLANTATION NOVELS

  “For lovers of historical romance, To Wager Her Heart offers the very best of both history and romance. Tamera Alexander’s well-told story details the early years of Fisk University as a school for freedmen after the Civil War. I was fascinated from beginning to end. This thoroughly enjoyable novel proves why Tamera Alexander is one of the genre’s most beloved authors—and one of my favorites.”

  —Lynn Austin, bestselling author of Waves of Mercy and Until We Reach Home

  “A steadfast heroine, a redemption-seeking hero, and a complex Southern society in post-Civil War America seamlessly combine in Tamera Alexander’s To Wager Her Heart. Fans of Alexander’s Belle Meade Plantation novels will fall in love with this new installment—but the real stars are the depth of research and the masterful attention to setting the perfect historical scene. Honor. Faith. And love . . . this novel’s a journey in them all!”

  —Kristy Cambron, bestselling author of The Illusionist’s Apprentice and the Hidden Masterpiece series

  “Having read all of Tamera Alexander’s books, it came as no surprise that To Wager Her Heart is another masterpiece of storytelling. This is a book for everyone—and I highly recommend it!”

  —Veronica Brayboy, avid reader from New Jersey

  “Tamera Alexander has created a story that blends true historical events with unforgettable characters. Her vivid depiction of the struggles of the newly freed slaves, the expansion of the railway, and the journey of the Jubilee Singers brings post-Civil War Nashville roaring to life. To Wager Her Heart interweaves heroic life challenges with rich spirituality and a sigh-worthy romance.”

  —Susan Anne Mason, award-winning author of Irish Meadows and the Courage to Dream series

  “No one writes southern fiction better than Tamera Alexander.”

  —Patti Jo Moore, avid reader from Georgia, on To Wager Her Heart

  “From the very beginning of [To Wager Her Heart], Tamera Alexander invites readers on a remarkable journey, traveling alongside resilient characters determined to do what’s right even when family and peers choose prejudice and contempt. Well done, Tamera! This was a journey that I didn’t want to end.”

  —Melanie Dobson, award-winning author of Catching the Wind and Beneath a Golden Veil

  “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

  “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 and 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)

  Also by Tamera Alexander

  Belle Meade Plantation novels

  To Whisper Her Name

  To Win Her Favor

  To Wager Her Heart

  To Mend a Dream (novella)

  Women of Faith Fiction

  The Inheritance

  Belmont Mansion novels

  A Lasting Impression

  A Beauty So Rare

  A Note Yet Unsung

  Timber Ridge Reflections

  From a Distance

  Beyond This Moment

  Within My Heart

  Fountain Creek Chronicles

  Rekindled

  Revealed

  Remembered

  ZONDERVAN

  To Wager Her Heart

  Copyright © 2017 by Tamera Alexander

  Requests for information should be addressed to:

  Zondervan, 3900 Sparks Dr. SE, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49546

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Alexander, Tamera, author.

  Title: To wager her heart / Tamera Alexander.

  Description: Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan, [2017] | Series: Belle Meade Plantation novel; 3

  Identifiers: LCCN 2017006670 | ISBN 9780310291084 (paperback)

  Epub Edition June 2017 ISBN 9780310413189

  Subjects: LCSH: Horse racing--Fiction. | Belle Meade Plantation (Tenn.)--History--Fiction. | Tennessee--History--19th century--Fiction. | GSAFD: Historical fiction. | Love stories. | Christian fiction.

  Classification: LCC PS3601.L3563 T65 2017 | DDC 813/.6--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017006670

  Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation. © 1996, 2004, 2007, 2013, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

  Scripture quotations are also taken from the King James Version. Public domain.

  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.

  Printed in the United States of America

  17 18 19 20 21 / LSC / 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  In honor of the original Jubilee Singers

  of Fisk University, Nashville, Tennessee.

  Your courage and faith inspire us still.

  We now have this light shining in our hearts, but

  we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing

  this great treasure. This makes it clear that our

  great power is from God, not from ourselves.

  2 Corinthians 4:7 NLT

  Preface

  Much of the novel you’re about to read is fictional, though there are plenty of real people and real history woven throughout. For instance, the Fisk University Jubilee Singers and their immensely important and courageous strides in the nineteenth century are true and are woven through the fictional threads of this novel. And there really is a Belle Meade Plantation in Nashville—the Queen of Southern Plantations, as it’s still known. Built in 1820, the mansion still stands today and warmly welcomes visitors.

  The first time I stepped foot onto the grounds of Belle Meade Plantation and learned of Uncle Bob Green, Susanna Carter, and so many other former slaves who lived and worked at Belle Meade, I knew I wanted to write stories that included them, the magnificent estate they helped to create, and this crucial time in our struggling nation’s history.

  Tennessee in the 1870s represented a striking dichotomy. The state boasted some
of the largest plantations in the South, along with their former slaveholders, as well as a talented and articulate group of educated African American men and women who turned the world upside down and changed the culture of that era. Their contributions and gifts still resonate today.

  Tennessee dominated the thoroughbred racing industry in the United States at this time, with Belle Meade Plantation serving as the preeminent stud farm in the nation. Does the name Secretariat sound familiar? What about Sunday Silence and American Pharaoh? Those champion thoroughbreds, and countless others, trace their lineage to Belle Meade Plantation.

  While this novel is peopled with characters who lived during that time, their overarching personalities and actions as depicted in this story are mostly of my own imagination and should be construed as such.

  Thank you for entrusting your time to me. It’s a weighty investment—one I treasure and never take for granted. I invite you to join me as we open the door to history and step into another time and place.

  Welcome (once again) to Belle Meade,

  Tamera

  Contents

  Acclaim for the Belle Meade Plantation Novels

  Also by Tamera Alexander

  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 Ninteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-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

  Author’s Note

  Discussion Questions

  Acknowledgments

  Alexandra’s Chocolate: Chess Pie

  An Excerpt from Christmas at Carnton Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  About the Author

  Chapter

  ONE

  Nashville, Tennessee

  August 9, 1871

  Alexandra Jamison had always wanted a sister. Instead, she had three brothers. All older. Two were the spitting image and temperament of their father. Jacob, the third and her favorite, was not. And as though the world could not abide the anomaly, war had met him on the battlefield—and won. For that alone, if not for a thousand other reasons, she would never forgive that war.

  As for the other two brothers, they’d escaped home and the shadow of their father as soon as possible. If only she could do the same.

  If the carriage parked in front of her house on Sycamore Lane—the lushly treed thoroughfare home to some of Nashville’s finest residences—was any indication, her father’s plans for her were hardly “escape.” More along the lines of “out of the frying pan, into the fire.” A man nearly thrice her age waited in the study. She imagined his marble-knobbed cane propped just so against the bookcase beside his chair. To be fair, she’d never actually seen Horace Buford walking with a cane, but she felt certain there must be one looming in his very near future. A future she was determined not to share, no matter her father’s opinion.

  Which her mother would quietly support, never giving voice to her own thoughts on the matter. If she even had thoughts of her own. Which was another frustration.

  Alexandra loved her mother; she simply didn’t understand her. At times she felt as if she scarcely knew her.

  And all of this, Alexandra thought, as she climbed the steps to the front porch, was what a sister was for. To share all the secrets, the heartaches and fears. The frustrations that came with seeking to honor the two people who had given her life. But how did she do that when her parents’ hopes and plans for her life differed so vastly from her own?

  At twenty-five, she’d expected to be beyond all this. But life hadn’t turned out at all as she’d expected.

  The daisies in the pots by the top step looked freshly watered, yet still showed signs of fatigue beneath the blazing August sun. She could commiserate. She felt more than a little worn herself. She’d wanted to forgo the midweek Nashville Women’s League meeting that morning, but her mother had insisted she attend—while claiming she herself was too burdened by the heat to accompany her.

  “The Jamison name must be represented, Alexandra,” she’d said. “After all, we’re one of Nashville’s founding families, and we must stay abreast of all the latest goings-on. And the gossip there is always so rich.”

  All that talk of who was marrying whom, of what was best served at high tea, of Godey’s latest fashions . . . Though the league did routinely undertake a number of worthy pursuits to help the needy, the trappings and topics of high society simply weren’t Alexandra’s cup of tea anymore.

  Not after David. Not after Dutchman’s Curve.

  She reached for the front doorknob, aware of her defenses rising. This house had long ceased being a safe haven. Especially when she knew her father was home. Did all daughters feel this way about their fathers?

  Yet another question for the sister she didn’t have.

  He hadn’t approved of her choice in David. David was a teacher. And a gifted one. But that wasn’t prestigious enough for Father.

  The handsome brass placard by the front door bearing her father’s name shone with a deeper luster than usual. He must have had Melba polish it that morning, which only meant one thing.

  A prospective client. Alexandra glanced back at the carriage, heartened that perhaps it wasn’t old Mr. Horace Buford waiting inside after all.

  She opened the door as the blast of a train whistle split the morning air. Its shrill sound brought her up short and prodded memories best left undisturbed. Images of splintered railway cars and broken bodies. Screaming wheels and grinding steel that was heard over two miles away. She squeezed her eyes tight as the familiar sense of loss flooded back through her.

  Tomorrow it would be one year. How could so much time have passed? Especially when a part of her still felt stranded back there on that horrific morning on Dutchman’s Curve . . .

  “As long as your loved one lives on in your memory, he’ll never really be gone,” people said. But that was a lie. David was gone. And he was never coming back.

  The whistle blasted again, sounding closer this time, and she could smell the acrid scent of smoke and cinders in her memory, could feel the unearthly jolt of the train as the car she’d been riding jumped the rails. And she could still see David’s broken, partially burned body that had been laid out in the cornfield alongside the others.

  She hurried inside and slammed the door behind her, working to shut out the haunting sights and sounds.

  “Miss Alexandra . . . you all right?”

  Heart racing, Alexandra looked up. “Melba,” she whispered, and saw concern swiftly gathering in the older woman’s eyes.

  “What’s wrong, child? You comin’ down with somethin’?”

  Alexandra shook her head. “I’m fine. Just a little overheated, that’s all.” Did anyone else remember what tomorrow was? Surely Melba hadn’t forgotten.

  “It’s hot as blazes out there today, ma’am. You shoulda taken that little parasol with you.”

  Seeing the hint of a smile on Melba’s face, Alexandra attempted to return it. “You know how I love parasols, Melba.”

  The older woman laughed,
the melodic sound like home itself. “Even as a child you didn’t like them things. But your mama, she sure did. Made you carry one everywhere.”

  “Don’t I remember . . .”

  Alexandra set her reticule on a side table and watched as Melba arranged a bouquet of fresh-cut flowers from the garden in the antique vase on the center table. The former slave was as much a part of her life as anyone in this house. More so, in some ways. Because Melba saw things Alexandra knew her parents didn’t. Even as a little girl, Alexandra had never been able to fool her.

  Much like another slave she’d known as a child. A slave she’d loved with all her heart, but who apparently hadn’t loved her in equal part.

  She heard voices coming from her father’s study. “A prospective client?” she asked softly.

  Melba nodded. “Man new to town, your papa said.”

  Her father had moved his office into their home four months ago. He said it was because the building where he rented space in the center of town was not being properly maintained, but Alexandra secretly suspected it was due to finances. Six years since the war had ended, and business in Nashville appeared to be improving. But the number of attorneys still seemed inordinate to the need.

  The door to the study opened and her father peered out. “Alexandra, you’re home. Good. Would you join us, please? I could use your assistance.”

  “Of course.”

  He pushed the door closed again.

  Knowing better than to keep him waiting, she quickly brushed the street dust from the front of her dress.

  “Let me help you with that, ma’am.” Melba came up from behind and gave her backside a good hand brushing. “Seein’ what tomorrow is, Miss Alexandra, maybe we could get your blue dress back out. Or that teal one with the white lace collar that looks so pretty with your blond hair. If you’re ready.”

  Alexandra turned. “I knew you’d remember.”

  Melba sighed. “That’s a day this old woman will never be forgettin’.”

  Alexandra hugged her, appreciating the way Melba’s arms came around her shoulders, strong and protective. And the way the woman smelled. Like fresh coffee and bread warm from the oven.