Robin Lee Hatcher | Loving Libby

"Every page of this novel is delightful! Robin Lee Hatcher has created charming characters and placed them in an interesting plot ... Readers will see the power of love over revenge, and how confronting the past can make for an even better future. The spiritual side of the story lightly embraces the reader with a reminder of God's ever-present love and mercy. Humor, heartache and hope fill these pages through the wonderfully creative mind of [the author]. She has a true talent for touching readers' hearts, while never losing sight of the Lord's ability to work all things together for good."
— Christian Book Previews.com

"[In Loving Libby, the] characters quickly grabbed center stage and drew the reader into a sweet inspirational romance written with heart and sensitivity on a solid foundation of faith. The writing smoothly carried the story, and I found I’d read half the book before I realized the time. Well-written and entertaining with a firm grasp of the truth that our true security rests in Christ."
— Author's Choice Reviews

Robin Lee Hatcher has been writing for 24 years and the author of over forty contemporary and historical novels and novellas! She uses her fiction to entertain and encourage which is why she has always been one of my favorite authors. In Loving Libby, you'll admire the determination and fortitude of Libby Blue as she runs the Blue Springs Ranch. But there's more than meets the eye. The secrets that are hidden behind the drawer will haunt her again and Libby will be powerless to stop them. But Libby's faith in God during the dark moments of her life will sustain her. For some encouragement to keep your eyes on the One who holds you in His arms, be sure to check out Loving Libby by Robin Lee Hatcher.
— The Reading Mom's Five Star Book Reviews

“Not again, Bevins,” Libby whispered to herself as she peered through the latticework of sunlight and shadows at the horseman’s approach. “Not as long as I’ve got breath in my body.”

Obscured by the thick grove of cottonwoods and pines, the rider stopped his horse. Libby had difficulty keeping track of him as dusk settled over the barnyard. Whatever he was up to, it wasn’t good. It never was with Timothy Bevins.

She stepped back from the window until certain she couldn’t be seen, then moved to the front door, checking to see if it was tightly latched. It was.

A small sigh of relief escaped her. But her relief was short-lived. Bevins wouldn’t break into her house. No, that method was too direct and could get him in trouble with the law. He was more underhanded than that.

Her mouth thinned into a determined line. She wasn’t going anywhere, frightened or not. And she wouldn’t wait for Bevins to make the first move, either. She wouldn’t give him a chance to do his dirty work. Not this time.

She grabbed the double-barreled shotgun that rested against the wall. Then, fortifying herself with a deep breath, she walked to Sawyer’s bedroom, peeking inside at the boy lying on the bed.

“Sawyer, something’s got the horses worked up. Probably another coyote. I’m going out to run it off. If you hear anything, don’t be scared. It’s just me.”

“I don’t scare so easy, Libby,” he answered with a brave tilt of his scabbed-over chin.

She hurried through the kitchen to the back door, opened it silently, and stepped outside. Evening had changed the colors of the earth and sky into varying shades of gray and black. The trees had become threatening silhouettes, looming overhead, their scraggly arms reaching toward her.

She edged along the side of the house, making her way toward the wide clearing at the front, searching every shadow.

You can’t scare me, you yellow-bellied snake in the grass. You can’t run me off my land.

Libby had quit running over six years ago. This was her home, her land. Aunt Amanda had entrusted the ranch to Libby, and she meant to protect it and everyone on it. She wouldn’t let Timothy Bevins run her off, no matter what he did, no matter what he threatened to do. And he wouldn’t get another chance to hurt Sawyer, either. Spooking the boy’s horse had been the last straw. Absolutely the last straw.

She heard the snap of a twig off to her right. Startled, she turned and, in the waning light, saw him stepping out of the trees. More important, she saw the rifle in his hand.

She reacted instinctively, raising the shotgun and firing before he had a chance to do the same. The kick of the gun slammed her back against the side of the house as she squeezed off the second shot.

She gasped for air, her ears ringing, her shoulder throbbing. Had either shot hit Bevins? She hoped not. She’d only wanted to scare him, not shoot him. As her vision cleared, she looked across the yard and saw him lying in the dirt.

Gulping down panic, she dropped the shotgun and cautiously made her way toward him, uncertain what she would do if he was dead, uncertain what she should do if he wasn’t.

She reminded herself that Bevins was to blame for the death of Dan Deevers, Sawyer’s father. Dan, her ranch foreman, had been out in that January ice storm because Bevins had run off more of her sheep. He’d been stealing them a few at a time for the past year. She knew it was him but she couldn’t prove it. Just like she couldn’t prove he’d spooked Sawyer’s horse on purpose yesterday. The boy could have broken his neck in that fall.

The good book said not to hate a man, but Libby had a problem with that command when it came to Bevins.

Libby dropped to her knees and stared at the man she’d shot. It wasn’t Bevins. It wasn’t one of Bevins’s hired thugs. It was someone she’d never seen before.