The Inheritance Quotes

“She'd once thought God would never intentionally hurt her. But looking back over her life, she'd had cause to rethink that. She was certain nothing touched her life that didn't first filter through the loving hands of her heavenly father. But she was also convinced that God sometimes wounded, in order to bind up. And that He shattered, so that His hands could heal. This was part of His inheritance she'd overlooked before, but never would again.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“Long ago she'd learned that facing reality was inevitable. She could skulk about, trying to avoid it or pretending it wasn't there. But in the end, reality always found her. And its finding her seemed a
harsher blow than if she'd faced the situation straight on from the very start.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“Yet even in such moments she didn’t doubt that God existed. She just sometimes wondered if He remembered that she did.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“It wasn’t the hand a person was dealt that determined the outcome—it was the person holding the cards who made the difference. And he’d laid his cards down long ago. At the foot of the cross.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“Morning, Miss Ashford.” She stopped short. “Marshal Caradon!” She let out a breath. “You startled me. I thought you’d be gone by now.” Why was this woman always trying to get rid of him? “No ma’am.” Smiling, he raised an apologetic brow. “I’m still here.” He walked from the stall, aware of the way she was looking at him—good and long, full up and down—and he couldn’t help but hope she liked what she was seeing, at least a little. He certainly liked what he was looking at. Her long brown hair fell about her shoulders, curly and loose, like it had last night. Her skirt and shirtwaist were simple homespun, yet somehow took on a fancier appearance with her giving them shape. She had a strength about her that was compelling and impossible to miss. Yet if you looked closely enough—if she let you that close—the woman had a vulnerable side too. One she worked to keep hidden behind that wall she kept up. She’d never believe it if he told her, but it was that vulnerability that he found most attractive.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“Sometimes you had to let a person stumble, let ’em fall flat out—no matter how much it hurt to see—before they could come to grips with how bad off they were. Because until a person realized that, there wasn’t much helping them.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“stalwart spruce, masking sounds that might otherwise have been detected. She slipped a hand into her pocket as she scanned the wooded rise to their left—unsure whether her shortness of breath stemmed from her ailment or from whatever was out there . . . or perhaps both. Gripping the curve-handled derringer, an indulgent purchase she’d made before departing New York City, a measure of courage rose within her. Its .41 caliber ball would hardly deter a large animal, but it was better than facing one completely defenseless. Josiah cocked his head to one side as though listening for something. The first time he’d done this on the trail three days ago, she’d questioned him. After spotting the mountain lion, she’d swiftly learned to keep her silence. He’d shot at the animal and missed—by a wide margin if the splintered bark held truth—but his”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“She watched him cut through the barn to the well, and she felt Wyatt’s arms come around her from behind. “You were perfect, McKenna.” She leaned into him, mindful of Emma running straight for them. Chin Li nodded their way then averted his gaze. But McKenna saw the smile on his mouth. “Papa!” Wyatt caught Emma up and gave her a big hug. “How are you, little one?” Emma’s eyes sparkled. “Did you bring me anything?” “Now what makes you think I’d bring you anything?” She stuck her hand into his outer vest pocket, which earned a raised brow from Wyatt. So she immediately went for his inner pocket, and her grin widened. “Another doll!” she squealed. Wyatt tugged the red-yarned head of the rag doll. “I figured Clara needed a sister, since you’ll be getting either a new brother or sister yourself real soon.” Emma hugged his neck tight. “Thank you, Papa.” “Now,” he said, kissing her forehead and setting her down. “We’re going to have Uncle Robert’s welcome home dinner in just a minute, but first, I’d like for you to run on inside and show Chin Li and Mei your new doll while I kiss your mama good and proper. Think you can do that for me?” Grinning, Emma nodded and set off. McKenna was grinning too, until Wyatt pulled her close. Seeing the desire in his eyes sparked her own, and she slipped a hand beneath his vest to finger a button on his shirt. “I’ve missed you, Mr. Caradon.” No longer Marshal, and she was so thankful. His hand moved lower down her back, pressing her closer against him. He smiled. “I think I’ve warned you before, ma’am”—his gaze went from her eyes to her mouth—“about looking at a man that way when he can’t do anything about it.” Remembering the first day he’d said that to her, McKenna cradled the back of his neck and drew his face down to hers. “Then I suggest, sir, that you do something about it. Right quick.” And he did.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“McKenna knelt in front of her husband, loving the way he looked at her. “So it was no surprise to me this morning when they asked you. I believe it was an answer to my prayers, Wyatt.” He shook his head, a faint smile seeping through his seriousness. “I’ve got to stop you from praying that prayer for me, woman.” He traced the curve of her cheek, then wove a path down her neck. She loved the way he touched her in intimate moments like this, when they were alone. But even more, she loved the way she felt inside when he did.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“He took her in his arms, his eyes at once both steel and velvet. “Am I your husband, McKenna?” She stared. “I don’t understand what you’re—” He kissed her long and hard. Pressed against him, McKenna began to feel something deep inside her slowly unfurl. Breathless when he finally drew back, she blinked to refocus. She searched his eyes and, for a moment, thought he was going to kiss her again. He trailed a finger across her lips. “Let me ask this another way. Even though we haven’t known each other as husband and wife, yet . . .” Intimacy deepened his expression. “Is there any doubt in your mind that I’m your husband? Now, in this moment?” It took her a few seconds to form the right syllable. “No,” she finally whispered, swallowing. “There’s no doubt.” “As sure as you are of that, even without the closeness we’ll share one day as husband and wife, that’s the kind of certainty Emma needs in her life right now. She needs a mother, McKenna. I’m not saying for you to step in and replace Janie. No one can ever do that, and I know you’d never try. You loved Janie too much. But you can be to Janie’s daughter what Janie can’t be anymore. God put you into Emma’s life to be”—he wiped the tears from her cheeks—“her mama.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“He felt of Emma’s forehead. “She’s still a mite warm.” He turned. “I’ll ride for Doc Foster.” At that moment, a peal of thunder cracked overhead. Emma jerked but didn’t waken. McKenna hastily soothed her back to sleep and caught Wyatt at the front door. Already in his duster again, she grabbed his arm. “She doesn’t need Dr. Foster, Wyatt. Her fever’s breaking.” He reached for the door, not seeming to hear her. She reached up and took his face in her hands. He stilled. “Emma’s going to be okay. Her fever’s breaking.” His face was a mixture of pain and fear, and suddenly his actions made more sense to her. “Did your Bethany die of fever?” she whispered, already seeing the answer in his eyes. “I can’t—” His voice caught. “I can’t lose another child that way.” She hugged him to her as tight as she could, wanting him to feel every part of her loving him. “You won’t. You won’t lose Emma.” He lifted her face to his, and McKenna met his kiss and returned it. “You’re sure she’s all right?” he said. McKenna nodded. “Yes, but . . .” She looked down and away. “I did something I shouldn’t have done.” “What? What did you do?” Shame poured through her. “Emma kept crying for Janie, asking for her mama.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t console her, her fever was high.” She closed her eyes. “I told her that . . . I was her mama. I know it was wrong. I don’t want her to forget Janie, it’s just that—” “You remember that night, McKenna,” he said, his voice soft, “when Janie asked you to take care of her?” She nodded. “I’ll never forget it.” “Janie asked you to take her . . . and make her your own. Those were her exact words.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“He came around and knelt beside Emma. “Would you consider giving me a hug good-bye, little one?” Emma complied without reservation. McKenna sought his eyes. “You’re leaving so early?” He stood, taking Emma with him. She laid her head on his shoulder and he rubbed her back. “I’ve got a meeting in Bixby this morning. And if I want to get home earlier in the evenings . . .” He paused. “And I do . . . I need to leave earlier in the day.” He set Emma back in her chair and came around to McKenna’s side. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, and lingered. Sensing what he wanted, McKenna turned her head and met his lips. How quickly she was becoming accustomed to this. “Thank you for breakfast,” he whispered. “You’re welcome.” She brushed his cheek with her hand. “Come home soon.” “I wish I never had to leave.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“Footsteps sounded on the porch, and she felt a twitter of excitement as Wyatt walked in, hat in hand. He stopped and stared. First at the table, then at her. “Well . . . this is sure a nice welcome.” She grew warm beneath his attention, and warmer still as he crossed the room toward her. He lifted a curl from her bodice and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. “It smells good in here.” He smelled good too. She caught a whiff of fresh soap and sunshine, and his hair was still damp. “You bathed in the creek,” she said softly. “Yes, ma’am, I did.” “Well . . .” She gave a breathless laugh. “Breakfast is ready. I hope you’re hungry.” “Yes, ma’am.” His gaze captured hers and held. “I am.” If not for his self-declared patience, she might have been unnerved by the transparency of desire in his eyes. But Wyatt Caradon was her husband. She could stand on tiptoe right now and kiss him full on the mouth if she wanted to. That was her right. And the thing was—she slowly realized—she wanted to. Even more, he wanted her to. Yet he didn’t move. However, he did smile, ever so slightly, and it gave her the encouragement she needed. She rose on tiptoe, and could all but reach him. “You might want to meet me halfway, Mr. Caradon.” Wordless, he did, but stopped just short of completing the journey. Their breaths mingling, she sensed his growing lack of patience, which, oddly enough, only increased hers. She ran a finger along his stubbled jawline and saw his eyes narrow ever so slightly. She’d never been one to toy with a man, but then she’d never been married to one with whom she could toy. She kissed him on one corner of his mouth, then the other. On his cheek, and then gently on the lips, like he’d done with her yesterday at the ceremony. His arms didn’t come around her like she half expected, but not for a moment did she question his response. He was letting her take the lead . . . and she liked it.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“Do you think we could just . . . sit here for a while? Together? I’m tired, but . . .” She stifled a yawn. “I’m not ready to go to bed yet.” He wasn’t either. Especially knowing he wouldn’t be going with her, at least for now. He leaned back on the sofa and drew her close. She laid her head on his chest and sighed, then suddenly raised up. “I’m not hurting your leg, am I?” She looked down. He smiled and urged her back against him. “Believe me, I’m feeling no pain right now.” A pleased look on her face, she tucked her head beneath his chin and was asleep within minutes. After a while, he eased her down beside him and lay behind her on the couch, holding her close, and thanking God for this second chance at a family he thought he’d never have.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“He kissed her forehead and the curve of her cheek. “I love you, McKenna. I have for some time now. And when Hawkins mentioned the option of you marrying today . . .” He brushed the hair from her temple and kissed her there. Twice. A weakness settled in her knees. His laughter came soft. “It wasn’t hard for me to know what I wanted to do. So just to be clear . . . honor had little to do with my actions today. They were mostly selfish at heart.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“Wyatt lowered her to the floor, then paused, his hands on her waist. “McKenna?” His breath was soft on her face. “Yes?” “You can look at me, you know. I’m not going to bite.” Something about the way he said it made her smile, and she lifted her gaze. The room was cast in shadows, and she could make out only the faintest outline of his stubbled jaw. She fought the sudden urge to touch his face. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For making me your husband.” His hand moved, ever so slowly, around her back. “And for giving me the chance . . .” He nodded toward Emma’s bedroom. “To be a father to that sweet little one in there.” The anxious tickle expanding inside her, McKenna matched the softness of his voice. “And thank you for making me your wife, Wyatt. For allowing me to keep her, and to keep my promise to Janie. It was very . . . honorable of you.” She was achingly aware of the progress of his hand on her lower back as it moved upward.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“May I have the honor . . . Mrs. Caradon?” Mrs. Caradon. Mrs. Wyatt Caradon. She leaned down and he lifted her into his arms. She kept her eyes averted as he carried her up the stairs and across the threshold of the cabin, yet she was aware of every place their bodies touched, and of where his hands were on her—chaste and proper—which only accentuated what he was probably thinking about. And what she was trying her best not to.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“I’ll carry her inside,” he whispered. Nodding, McKenna started to climb down too, but he turned back. “Wait here, please,” he said softly, that semblance of a smile returning. “Agnes.” Seeing the mischievous gleam in his eyes, she bit her lower lip to keep from smiling. She kept her voice low. “I’ve always hated that name.” “And I’ve always loved it. It’s my mother’s name.” “It’s not!” she mouthed. But he nodded and winked.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“Wyatt’s grip suddenly tightened and she looked up. He was smiling. Only it wasn’t a full smile. It was one of those ghosted little grins that masked a secret. And it gave her a glimpse of what he must have looked like as a little boy. Adorable . . . Her gaze inched upward to his eyes and all traces of boyhood vanished. A wave of desire, powerful and unexpected, swept through her. Her memory traced a path back to the way he held her in his arms earlier that day, and of his kiss. He hadn’t been the least bit shy then, and at the slightest bit of encouragement, had grown undeniably bolder. “McKenna.” Wyatt’s voice was soft. She blinked, and recognized the earnestness in his eyes. “Will you take me as your husband?” he whispered, indicating the judge with a tilt of his head. “He has a stage to catch.” She thought of Emma, and of Janie. And of all she’d done wrong with Robert in her life. Then she thought of what little she knew about this man before her. He already loved Emma, and Emma loved him. He was a man of honor, kind and— “Yes,” she whispered, forcing the words over the tick-tock of the imaginary clock. “I do.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“She stared at her hands resting in Wyatt’s. His were warm, large, and rough, browned by the sun. A rancher’s hands, familiar with work. A puckered scar ran the length of the top of his left thumb. She’d never noticed that before. The skin looked long healed. Perhaps it was something from boyhood . . . His thumb began to make slow, patient circles over the tops of her fingers, and the effects of his tenderness spread throughout her entire body. Her thoughts took a backward skip to Judge Hawkins’s comment about procreation, and she blushed as her thoughts penciled in another blank.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“If you choose not to marry now but want to wait, which Judge Hawkins says is an option, he’ll go ahead and submit his ruling. Then you’ll need to travel to Denver and file an appeal, appear before a judge there, and have another hearing in coming weeks.” McKenna stared, wide-eyed and wordless, while Mei stood off to the side, her head bowed, with a demure smile bunching her cheeks. Wyatt wished McKenna would smile, would cry, would do something to let him know what was going on inside of her. He reached for her other hand and held them both between his. “And in case it’s not clear to you . . .” He smiled, wanting to take her in his arms and kiss her again, maybe try and help her decision along. “I’m the one you’ll be marrying. Unless you have someone else in mind.” Lord, please let her say yes . . . With a nervous laugh, she lowered her eyes, her grip on his hand turning viselike. She glanced down the hallway, then back at him. “Would I be able to keep Emma with me? If I waited?” Wyatt tried not to take the implication of her question too personally, yet felt a slight sting. He knew she was scared to death.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“She heard steps behind her and turned. Wyatt filled the doorway, his breath coming heavy. “I hoped . . . to catch you here.” He stepped inside. “Chin Mei.” He bowed. Mei reciprocated. “Marshal Caradon,” she said softly. McKenna read hope in his eyes, which seemed incongruent to the day. He stepped closer to her and reached for her hand. “McKenna . . . I have some news . . . from the judge.” He glanced at their clasped hands, and moved closer still. “If I had my way, I’d give you more time to make this decision, and I’d do it all right and proper.” A wry smile tipped his mouth, and she stared, confused. “Then again . . .” He laughed softly. “I’m not sure I’m that patient of a man, especially when it comes to you.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it—once, twice— and despite the turmoil inside her, McKenna thought of their shared moment back in the church foyer, and a shiver stole through her. “I’ve spoken with Judge Hawkins, McKenna, and he’s agreed to rescind his ruling about Emma . . .” Her breath caught, wanting to believe this but unable to. “You were able to change his—” He held up a hand. “But only if you marry.” “Marry?” she whispered, not understanding. “Before he leaves town . . . in one hour.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“Break me, Lord, until I’m wholly yours.” Her head came up. “That’s been my prayer for years . . . for myself. And it’s been my prayer for Robert, since the day I met him.” She squeezed his hand tight. “How are you so sure that this is what he needs?” Wyatt saw the fledging trust in her eyes. She was struggling, wanting to understand. And like blowing softly on kindling until it caught flame, he wanted to nurture that trust. “Because it’s what I needed when I was about Robert’s age—and nearly killed a man.” Seconds passed in silence. She slowly shook her head. “No . . . that’s not possible.” “I’m not the same man now that I was then, McKenna. My father loved me enough to let God deal with me in the consequences of what I’d done. And God did. He’ll do the same for Robert, too, if we’ll only let Him.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“She eyed him. “What does that mean?” “You know exactly what it means, McKenna. Women who take on the world and never back down. Women whose hearts have so much love, they give even when that love isn’t returned.” He was reminded of what he had in his vest pocket for her—the thank-you gift for his saddle. The gift had since turned into the peace offering for missing dinner that night, and now represented so much more . . . Now that he knew how much she cared for him. Even though she might not be able to voice it, or even want to admit it to herself. But he would forever remember the moment she looked up outside the doc’s office, thinking he was dead, and found him alive. The timing hadn’t felt right to give it to her then, but it did now. He reached into his pocket. “I’m talking about a woman who faces life with a courage and a persistence that astounds me. Who has endured so much difficulty in her life and yet keeps pushing on with stubborn grace, step-after-step, day-after-day.” He softened his voice. “A woman who, at first, didn’t trust me.” He touched the side of her face. “But a woman who might just be beginning to trust.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “And who makes this man want to spend the rest of his life proving to her that she can.” He held out the box. “Not to mention a woman who makes the best saddles in all the western territory.” Her eyes widened. “You know?” Oh how he wanted to kiss her. And if he was reading her right, she was more than open to the idea. “What did I tell you about looking at a man that way when he couldn’t do anything about it?” She grinned, and he pulled her to him and kissed her. He’d meant for their first kiss to be more tender, slow and gentle, but the way her arms came around him, pulling him closer, the way she responded, deepening the kiss, drove the desire inside him. Their bodies touching, he memorized the curves of her waist, the small of her back, how she felt pressed up against him. The warmth of her hand as she cradled the back of his neck encouraged him further— Remembering where they were, Wyatt drew back. “McKenna!” he whispered. Her eyes were still closed, her lips parted. She was wearing a purple dress today, one he hadn’t seen before. But he liked it, very much. Especially on her. It buttoned up the front, and the lacey curve of the bodice revealed her neckline. The dress wasn’t at all improper, but the thoughts he was having about her right now bordered on being just that. She blinked. “Y-yes?” He smiled and ran a finger over her mouth, and put more distance between them. “You need to open your gift.” She gave him an intimate look. “I thought I already had.” Oh this woman . . . It was a good thing they were in church. She opened the box in her hand, and giggled. He didn’t mind in the least. He’d had about the same reaction when he’d first seen it. The woman in the store in Denver had called it a charm bracelet. But it was the tiny saddle hanging off it—among other miniature trinkets—that had gained his attention. She held up the bracelet and fingered each tiny charm. “I love it! Thank you, Wyatt.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“Robert never has liked my biscuits.” She retrieved the basket, trying for a carefree tone. “Honestly, I can’t say I blame him. I’m not much good at baking.” Or anything else with Robert, it would seem. Silence answered back, and she bowed her head, wondering if she was wrong to have come here. “That may be true on the baking part, ma’am. But . . . from what I hear . . .” Something in his voice drew her gaze. “You make right fine saddles.” Her eyes widened. How did Dunn know she made saddles? She’d given Casey Trenton her word she wouldn’t tell anyone she worked for him. If she lost this job at the livery . . . “I–I’m sorry, Sheriff Dunn. But I’m not quite sure I understand your meaning.” His sheepish smile held mischief, and looked out of place on such a seasoned man of the law. “Let’s just say I heard it from someone who’s right proud of you, ma’am.” He glanced again toward the hallway. “Even though I’m not sure he realizes how true that is just yet.” “Thank you, Sheriff Dunn.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“He opened the door and his eyes found McKenna’s. She stopped short. Her face went ashen. “Y-you’re a-alive.” It came out a whispered question. “They told me a marshal had been—” She choked on a sob. Wyatt slowly realized what she’d mistakenly thought, and the feeling in her eyes softened him in a way he couldn’t rightly explain. He took her in his arms, Emma too, and held them close. “I’m fine, McKenna. And very much alive.” She clung to him, fisting his shirt in her hand. Even Emma put her little arm around him and held on tight. He kissed the crowns of both their heads.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“At first when I meet Chin Li, I think him unkind, as you say. But it not true. He only want to guard me. So you see, he is good man.” A coy smile tipped her mouth. “Like your Marshal Caradon.” Surprised, McKenna felt heat rise to her cheeks. “He is not my Marshal Caradon.” Mei’s brows shot up. “He and I are friends. Like you and I are friends.” A knowing look filled Mei’s dark eyes. “Chin Li and I were friends when we marry. Then we grow into . . . much more.” Mei spoke something in Cantonese, offering a smile. “That is what my grandmother once say. It mean, ‘The most fertile soil for love lies in heart of friend.’” McKenna couldn’t imagine entering into marriage as Mei had. Not loving the man. Not even knowing him! But she wasn’t about to say that aloud. When she married—if she ever married—it would be for love. A love she’d not yet experienced, and wasn’t even sure existed.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“Smiling, Emma framed McKenna’s face in her little hands and planted a big, wet kiss right smack on her lips. “I love you, Aunt Kenny.” Taken aback by the show of affection, McKenna searched Emma’s eyes so blue and innocent. “I love you too, Emma.” She had been nine years old when she first held Robert in her arms. She’d been a child herself. Maybe it was because she was twenty-three now—certainly that had something to do with it—but the love she felt for this child was different from the love she felt for Robert. It felt as if part of her own heart were nestled within the tiny chest of this child. This precious part of Janie that was left to her.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“Wyatt . . .” Seriousness replaced McKenna’s former flirtation. “I’d like to invite you to dinner this Sunday. I could use your advice . . . on what to do.” Finally, she was confiding in him. “I’ll be there.” He needed to be on his way, but he hated to leave her with that pained look in her eyes. “But only if you promise to bake some of that bread you’ve told me so much about.” Winking, and knowing he’d carry her smile with him all the way to Severance and back, he tipped his hat and rode on at a gallop.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance

“McKenna, if there’s something wrong—and I know there is—I want you to tell me. I know it’s not easy to ask for help, but . . .” He waited until she looked at him before continuing. “I hope it’s clear that my intent is to do just that— help you . . . in any way I can.” Her smile was fragile. “I appreciate that. And you’re already helping me, Wyatt.” She fingered a braid on her saddle. “More than you know.” “It’s not fair to look at a man that way when he can’t do anything about it, ma’am.” He liked the blush that rose to her cheeks. He also liked that she didn’t go shy on him and look away, but locked her eyes with his. “I’ll be sure and remember that . . . sir.”
― Tamera Alexander, The Inheritance