Robin Lee Hatcher | Speak to Me of Love

"Speak to Me of Love is a delightful story of love and forgiveness. While the characters quickly draw the reader in, the compelling plot keeps us reading. The setting is real, Robin Lee Hatcher has us seeing, smelling and tasting the old West town, Dead Horse. Plenty of plot turns and a surprising ending will certainly satisfy. I highly recommend Speak to Me of Love."
— The Road to Romance

"Robin Lee Hatcher writes an excellent historical romance in Speak to Me of Love. It is the story of faith in oneself, hope for the future, and trusting in God to see us through even the most challenging of life's troubles and trials. Ms. Hatcher helps us to see through this book that there really can be second chances in life to 'do it right this time' if we just have a little courage to take that first step. I highly recommend this novel if you enjoy sweet romances full of tenderness and hope."
— Romance Junkies

"[This book] has been one of my favorite historical romances for years. So I must say, I was hesitant to see it rewritten... With this in mind, I found Speak to Me of Love to be just as charming. There is more emphasis placed on Christian ideals and values, but they really do not distract the reader from the story at hand. If you haven't read this story, it is one of Ms. Hatcher's finest. If you have, you may want to reread it just for the sheer beauty of the story."
— Romance Reader's Connection

"Veteran author Robin Lee Hatcher pens a charming, fast-paced story of redemption and restored trust."
— Romantic Times Magazine

"There is no doubt that Robin Lee Hatcher can spin a romance."
— About.com Romance Fiction Book Reviews

"Speak to Me of Love is a beautiful tale of second chances. I fell in love with the characters in the first chapters of the novel and was sorry to leave them behind when I turned the final page."
— Deborah Raney, author of A Scarlet Cord and Beneath a Southern Sky

"Robin Lee Hatcher's novels always speak to my heart, sending me off to find tissues before the story soars to a joyful and redemptive finish—this one especially so. How I do love a Bad-Boy-turned-hero like Drake! Tender, touching, and romantic, Speak to Me of Love is the kind of novel you can't wait to start reading...and can't bear to have end.
— Liz Curtis Higgs, author of Thorn in My Heart

"Stupid me. I thought I'd outgrown a good old-fashioned romance, but Robin Lee Hatcher proved me wrong in this tender story of faith, renewal and healing love. Speak to Me of Love tells the timeless tale of two wounded souls touched by the grace of God and the love of one another. Robin's graceful pen continues to enchant the heart and soothe the soul and will do so, this reader hopes, for years to come."
— Lisa Samson, author of The Church Ladies and Women's Intuition

The physician shook his head as he slowly straightened and raised gray eyes to meet Faith’s anxious gaze. “It’s not good, Mrs. Butler,” he said, his tone gentle and solicitous.

Faith Butler glanced at her daughter, lying so still on the bed, and her heart twisted with grief and fear. Becca’s skin was nearly transparent. Even her lips were colorless. Her frail body—small, even for a five-year-old—seemed to cause barely a wrinkle in the blanket that covered her. As she touched the child’s brow, brushing limp strands of hair away from Becca’s face, Faith felt apprehension slice through her.

“I believe it’s her heart,” Dr. Telford continued. “You say she was diagnosed as having rheumatic fever some time ago?”

Looking up, Faith nodded, the lump in her throat making it too difficult to speak.

The doctor removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes with the thumb and index finger of his right hand. “Did you understand rheumatic fever is a chronic disease, Mrs. Butler?” He met her gaze again, not waiting for a reply. “Of course, I’m not an expert on diseases of the heart, but I believe, if your daughter is able to rest and get the proper care, she may recover from this episode. It will take a great deal of time and care, and you mustn’t delude yourself into believing she’ll ever be strong.”

Faith’s own heart felt as if it would give out. Becca couldn’t die. She had to get well. She simply had to.

Dr. Telford continued grimly. “You must understand this, Mrs. Butler. If you put your daughter back into that wagon, she won’t live out the week. She can’t take any more jouncing around on rough roads. She must have complete rest and decent nourishment. She hasn’t the constitution for such a vagabond existence.”

Faith sank onto the chair beside the bed, fighting despair. “But what am I to do? The stage is how I make my living. Acting is all I know. If the company must go on without me...” Her voice trailed into painful silence.

“Well,” Dr. Telford said with a note of disdain, “if you must go on, there’s a home in Cheyenne for orphan children. I suppose my daughter-in-law might agree to keep the child until she’s well enough to send to the orphanage.”

“No!” Faith shot to her feet. “I’m not deserting my daughter.” She stiffened her back and lifted her chin. “I’ll stay here as long as it’s necessary. I’ll do whatever I must to take care of Becca.”

For an actress, she could almost hear him thinking. No doubt, he also wondered if there actually was a Mr. Butler.

She shoved away thoughts of George and the hurt and anger that came with them. She hadn’t time to indulge herself in those emotions. Or in self-pity either. She had to take care of Becca and Alex.

Mentally, Faith added up the money she’d tucked away during this most recent tour. There wasn’t much, and Raymond Drew, the company manager, wasn’t likely to part with any of her wages if she left the troupe without notice, especially out here in the middle of nowhere.

She shoved away thoughts of Raymond Drew as quickly as she had those of her children’s father.

“Dr. Telford, perhaps you could suggest where I might find work in Dead Horse and where we might stay until Becca is able to travel?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid there isn’t many opportunities for employment here, Mrs. Butler. As you could see when you came into town, there’s little left of Dead Horse these days. The stagecoach quit coming through nearly two years ago. The bank closed its doors six months after that. Folks’ve been moving out ever since. It’s a wonder this hotel’s still open. Wouldn’t be if my son didn’t believe the railroad will come north through this valley soon.” He scratched his temple. “About all that’s left hereabouts are the cattle ranches and those are few and far between. Of course, women are scarce, too. If you’re looking for a husband, you might find a cowboy or a rancher who is—”

“Well, then, I don’t know what there might be for you. The general store isn’t hiring. The Golds have their six children to help them.” He squinted as he gave the matter more thought, then he said, “I suppose Stretch Barns over at the saloon might have work for you.”

“A saloon?” Her heart sank. She knew what the work was like for women who had to dress up in revealing costumes and serve drinks to already drunken patrons. At least on stage she was protected from pawing hands and other unwelcome advances. “There must be something else.”

The doctor seemed to hear the note of desperation in her voice. He reached out and patted her shoulder, his attitude suddenly changed. “It just might be you could get work up at the Rutledge place. Can’t be sure, of course. I heard their cook quit earlier this spring. Don’t know that Mr. Rutledge has hired anybody new yet. Even if he has, he’s got that big house up there on the hill and a large crew working cattle for him on his range. Maybe he needs himself a housekeeper, too. There’d sure be plenty of room for you and your children. I know the ranch foreman. Parker McCall. He’s an honest, hard-working fellow. I imagine he’d put in a good word for you, if I asked him to.” He gave his graying head a shake. “Never have met Mr. Rutledge myself. Don’t know anyone in town who has. But I hear the cow hands like working for Parker. I think you’d do all right there.”

A housekeeper or a cook. She could manage that. Not that she’d had much experience with keeping a house. She’d lived her entire life out of a trunk—traveling in wagons, staying in hotels, living in tiny rooms above theaters for a week or two at a time. As for her cooking... Well, it left something to be desired, but at least she had some experience. She could make coffee over a campfire, and she could fry most foods without burning them. Surely she could cook well enough to satisfy a bunch of hungry cowboys.

And, after all, it wouldn’t be for long. Only until Becca was well enough to travel. Then they could all go back east and Faith could find work with one of the theater companies in New York.

Of course, if she had been able to find work in New York City, she would be there now instead of in a wide spot in the road appropriately called Dead Horse.

“You must trust Jesus,” Fannie Whitehall would have said. “You’ve made Him your savior, now you must trust Him, no matter what.”

Oh, how she wished Mrs. Whitehall, the elderly wardrobe mistress, hadn’t left the theater troupe last month. Faith could have used her advice about now. Her faith in Christ was still so new and her understanding so small.

Faith drew a deep breath, looked at the doctor, and asked, “How do I find Mr. Rutledge?”