Normally a no-nonsense businessman, Reed Wilder finds himself undertaking a very personal quest,  Journeying from Deleware to the small backwater town of Far Enough, Texas, he's in search of a fallen woman - a deceitful opportunist who had preyed on his brother years before. On the way, he discovers a fiesty angel. Barely reaching five-foot two inches, the petite firebrand helps defend him against two ruffians and then treats his wounds with a gentleness that makes him long to uncover all her secrets. But when she reveals her name, he realizes his lovely rescuer is not an innocent woman, but the jezebel he's been seeking.

February 2001
Leisure Books
ISBN 0-8439-4829-9

A resourceful woman struggling to make it on her own...

Lucy Ames has learned the hard way that you just can't count on friends and neighbors to stand by you through the hard times. Keeping her chin firmly tilted up through years of small town gossip and ostracism, she's somehow managed to carve out a life for herself and her young son on her own. She's about reached the end of her meager resources, though, and having to nurse the handsome stranger she literally stumbled across in the woods is not helping matters at all. Worse yet, his kindness and obvious admiration are proving as dangerous to her carefully erected emotional walls, as his appetite is to her larder.

The heart of the matter...

Reed finds his logic and control slipping away as he gazes into Lucy's warm and beautiful eyes. There's only one option: to discover the truth behind those enticing lips he longs to sample. For how could the tainted woman he sought be the rose-scented angel he's discovered? Soon, holding Lucy in his arms, he knows he's come far enough to realize true love when he finds it, far enough to know... WHAT MATTERS MOST.

Heart Rate Reviews

Debut author Winnie Griggs is definitely a rising star!   What Matters Most is a captivating novel that grabs you from the first page.   Ms. Griggs exhibits a wonderful talent for writing entertaining romantic tales which shows promising signs of blossoming in future books ..  Ms. Griggs has made a splendid entrance into the romance industry and is most certainly an author to watch!   What Matters Most is a book you should not miss!

Crescent Blues Book Reviews

Griggs creates likable characters in an engaging romantic conflict that will keep readers wide-awake turning pages and ignoring the lateness of the hour.

Romance Reviews Today

What Matters Most snatched my attention from the first few pages...   Beautifully choreographed scenes, naturally flowing conversations, and real people presented in realistic situations all combine to keep the pages turning.   A debut novel rarely comes together as perfectly as What Matters Most...   The story is well written, absorbing and, oh, so heartwarming.   I think this is a great start for an exceptional writer.

Old Book Barn Gazette

Ms. Griggs has given us a gentle read about strength, devotion, forgiveness and love.   As matters of the heart go - this book is a must-read!

Southern Scribe Reviews

What Matters Most is an interesting study of small town values....   In her debut novel, Winnie Griggs has captured a small town's tendency to gossip, judge and offer a hand of friendship.   Her plot is emotionally complex and holds the reader's attention with the surprising twists that affirms the heroine's true character.

The Romance Journal

What Matters Most is a heartwarming story of two people's struggles against stereotypes and expectations.   I really enjoyed this book!

Romantic Times Magazine

A quiet tale of faith and fortitude, Lucy and Reed's journey is one to warm the heart.

Top of Page

(Chapter One)

Northeast Texas
May 22, 1892

        "The preacher's cat is an elegant cat."

        "The preacher's cat is a frightened cat."

        "The preacher's cat is a gregarious cat."

        "Gregarious." Toby drew the word out as he stretched the band on his slingshot. "What does that mean, Ma?"

        Lucy Ames smiled down at the boy walking beside her. The Preacher's Cat was a favorite game of Toby's. He collected new words like other six year olds collected rocks and bugs.

        "It means to be sociable, to want to be part of a group of other folk rather than off by yourself all the time." Lucy pointed to the floppy-eared dog capering along beside them. "For example, Jasper here is very gregarious, but Mustard, for all his skills as a mouser, isn't."

        "Oh."

        Lucy watched him mentally file away her definition. Her sweet, curious, intelligent little boy, so precious to her. Now that her mother was gone, he was all she had that truly mattered.

        Her smile faltered at that reminder, and she pressed a hand lightly against her bodice, comforted by the feel of her mother's locket, cool against her skin. Then she hitched her shoulder, shifting the weight of the basket she carried. It was a beautiful day, tranquil here in the dappled shade of the woods, and they had an afternoon of picnicking and berry picking ahead of them. Time to concentrate on her blessings, not her losses.

        She stepped over a knobby root and paused while Toby and Jasper studied a large beetle lumbering up the side of a hickory tree. There was no need to hurry, no sense of urgency. After all, the walk was as much a part of the outing as the destination. They'd been strolling along this leaf-carpeted trail through the woods for about thirty minutes, and the creek crossing was just past the bit of heavy brush up ahead. Some of the choicest blackberries in the county grew there.

        Once they'd picked enough for Lucy to make a cobbler or two, Toby's favorite treat, they'd eat the picnic lunch she'd packed. Afterwards, they could wiggle their toes in the creek, or look for cloud pictures, or--

        A noisy commotion from somewhere up ahead caught her attention. At the same time, Toby reached for her hand. "Ma," he whispered. "What's that?"

        "I'm not sure." Lucy gave his hand a comforting squeeze as she tried to interpret the sounds. Was that a horse's high-pitched whinny? The confusing sounds seemed to come from the clearing at the creek crossing, just beyond that bit of brush.

        Putting a finger to her lips, Lucy reached into her skirt pocket, drawing courage from the feel of the pistol and two bullets hidden there. Ever since a rabid dog attacked the Conners boy in these woods a year ago, she'd made sure she could defend herself and Toby when they went out, even if they were only going berry picking.

        She motioned for Toby to take hold of Jasper and stay put. After loading the gun, she eased over to where she could see past the brush to what was causing all the fuss.

        Lord have mercy, it was Roy and Vern Jefferson, and they were beating the tar out of a man she'd never seen before.

        She cringed at the viciousness of the no-holds-barred fight. Even though he was outnumbered, the fast moving stranger fought back with amazing agility. Then Vern picked up a fist-sized rock and hit the stranger on the head.

        Lucy swallowed her cry of protest and scooted back to Toby.

        This wasn't her fight. She had no idea what it was about. For all she knew, the stranger could be as rotten as the Jeffersons. And there was Toby to consider. If she got involved and it turned against her, she'd be putting him in danger, too. The smart thing would be to keep hidden until the Jeffersons left, and then do what she could to help their victim.

        But heaven help that stranger. Those brutes enjoyed hurting others. They weren't likely to let up until he lay unconscious, or worse.

        She couldn't just sit here and do nothing. Surely, with her gun and a bit of bluster, she could run them off. They might be meaner than sin, but they were cowards who'd run at the first hint they'd lost the upper hand.

        "Keep a tight hold on Jasper and stay here," she whispered to Toby. "Stay very quiet, and don't dare show yourself until I tell you it's clear. No matter what. Do you understand?"

        Looking at her with wide, frightened eyes, he nodded.

        "Don't worry." She tousled his hair again. "I'll be all right."

        As Lucy moved away, her smile vanished. Inching forward, she took another peek into the clearing. The stranger lay on the ground, belly down and unmoving. Roy and Vern stood nearby, rifling through his saddlebags.

        Now that changed matters considerably. Lucy slipped further back into the cover of the brush. She might intervene to save a life, but not property. No, she'd wait until they took whatever they wanted and left. Thank heavens she wouldn't have to--

        Lucy stiffened as the stranger stirred and pushed himself up. She watched, open-mouthed, as he launched into Roy.

        Some of Lucy's sympathy evaporated as she fumed at his recklessness. Why couldn't the fool just play possum until they rode off? Surely nothing in that saddlebag was worth dying for.

        The injured stranger's bravado proved no match for the bullies. Vern grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms. Roy, with a vengeful smile, punched the stranger in the gut. Then he pulled his fist back for another blow.

        She didn't dare wait longer. Offering up a silent prayer, and ignoring the nervous churning in her stomach, Lucy stepped into the open, pistol leveled.

        "Roy! Vern! That's enough. Let him go."

        The heads of both brothers snapped around to face her.

        After the first tense seconds, Roy relaxed and his smile stitched shivers up her spine. "My, my, Lucy girl, you gave us quite a start. Now, you just put that gun down and run along. This fancy-pants stranger here is gonna help stake us for a little trip down to New Orleans. Ain't ya?"

        Roy punctuated his words with a savage kick to his victim's leg before turning back to Lucy with a leer. "Course, if you want to wait around, we'd be glad to take you along."

        Despite her revulsion, Lucy kept her tone firm, pleased to see her hands hold steady. "I'm dead serious, Roy. You two just ride on out of here. I won't let you keep beating this man. Daddy taught me to use this thing, and you know how good he was."

        Roy sneered. "Yeah, but you ain't your daddy. I don't think you have the stomach fer it." He took a swaggering step forward.

        Lucy shot one of her precious bullets, nicking the toe of his boot. She quickly steadied her aim, ready to fire again.

        Speaking quickly, so Toby would know she was all right, Lucy narrowed her eyes. "I don't have to kill you, Roy. The next one's aimed right at your kneecap. That'll drop you in your tracks and won't cost me a minute's sleep. Now, let him go and move on."

        Dear Lord, please don't let him call my hand.

        Roy's hands fisted with white-knuckled intensity as he eyed her venomously. Lucy knew if he had the means, he'd kill her without a bit of hesitation, and likely enjoy doing it.

        Finally, he motioned to his brother. "Let him go."

        As Vern complied, the stranger fell to all fours.

        Though her attention focused on Roy, from the corner of her eye Lucy saw the stranger lurch to his feet again. Didn't this misguided fool know when to stay down?

        Impossibly, he plowed headfirst into Vern. Only as he dropped it did she see the gun Vern held. She swallowed hard, realizing what the stranger had likely saved them both from.

        Still staggering, the injured man made a clumsy dive and came up holding the weapon. Backing to a nearby tree, he lifted the gun with both hands. "You heard the lady, get going. Now, before I decide she's too generous. And leave my things."

        Lucy cast a quick glance around, surprised by the sound of the stranger's voice. Its clipped tones lacked the familiar drawl of the locals. He obviously wasn't from these parts. So just what could have brought him to such an out of the way spot?

        Reed Wilder knew he couldn't stay on his feet much longer. But he sure as hell wasn't going to leave a woman to handle these two wharf rats alone, not as long as he drew a conscious breath.

        The larger of the bullies yanked the stolen wallet and pocket watch from his shirt, throwing them down in disgust. The bastard then reached for his own pistol lying nearby. Glad for an excuse to get some of his own back, Reed fired. He watched with vicious satisfaction as a burst of dust and rock stung the beefy hand.

        With an oath, the frustrated thief backed away and mounted his horse empty-handed. He turned his glare, not on Reed, but on the woman. "I'll not be forgettin' this," he growled.

        She lifted her chin. "Oh, I think it best that you don't forget," she shot back. "You said you were headed for New Orleans, and I think that's a real good idea. 'Cause I'll be helping this man press charges against you. Sheriff Morton will finally have the excuse he's been after to lock you up if you ever show your faces in Far Enough again."

        With another oath, the hull-scum of a highwayman turned his horse and rode off, his partner right behind him.

        Free at last to give in to his injured body's demands, Reed slid to the ground. His back, already lacerated from hurtful contact with the rocky ground and berry brambles during the fight, suffered further agony against the rough tree bark.

        Damn! He'd put his whole mission in jeopardy with his carelessness. All those years behind a desk had dulled his reflexes. He couldn't even stand under his own power right now.

        Good thing his father couldn't see him. It would just confirm his already strong suspicions that Reed lacked the command, the call to adventure, that was the Wilder hallmark.

        "It's all right, they're gone." The soothing words came from his rescuer, now kneeling by his side. He tightened his hold on the gun as she tried to pry it from him.

        "Might come back," he explained. Damn, even talking hurt. But he had to be ready, had to protect them both from another assault. His lack of vigilance had already cost too much.

        The woman, however, didn't seem to understand the danger. "Not those two cowards," came her foolishly confident reply. "If it'll put your mind at ease, though, we'll set a watch.

        "Toby!" she called over her shoulder. A small boy shot out of the brush and wrapped his arms around her hips as she stood.

        She spoke reassuringly to the child, then pointed in the direction the thieves had taken. It was hard to hear, to think straight, with the buzzing in his ears.

        Reed groaned when the boy drew himself up and brandished a slingshot as if it were a fearsome weapon. Dear Lord, he'd been saved by a pair of artless innocents.

        Ignoring the boy for now, Reed concentrated on the woman.

        He blinked.

        His eyes must be playing tricks on him. Surely this slip of a girl wasn't the gritty warrior-goddess who'd faced down those two bottom feeders? Why, his rescuer looked more of a sprite than an Amazon.

        Frowning, Reed studied her again, trying to reconcile her appearance with her earlier actions. A sylph-like creature, slim and not an inch over five foot two, she had a nice heart-shaped face, crowned by a mass of light brown, almost blond, hair pulled back into a demure bun. Her face was graced with a pert, tip-tilted nose and lips that were full and perhaps a bit too large.

        When she turned to Reed, he felt as if the breath had been knocked out of him again. Those eyes! Large and luminous, they were a tawny color, dusted with flecks of gold. Filled with an I'm-here-to-help-you reassurance, they focused fully on his face, and he felt he could lose himself in their depths.

        He'd traveled halfway across the country, from Delaware to Texas, on this quest. He was out to confront a conscienceless tramp and force her to return the Wilder family heirloom she'd stolen. More importantly, he intended to claim her illegitimate son as a newly-discovered Wilder heir.

        But this woman, this sweet Samaritan, with her contradictions of diminutive size and a lion's heart, of innocent expression and seductive eyes, could almost distract him from his meticulously planned undertaking.

        Almost.

        His rescuer dropped to her knees again and put a comforting hand on his arm. "Now," she said, her voice a mix of command and concern, "put the gun down and let me see how bad you're hurt."

        At least the buzzing had diminished enough for him to understand her. Reed released the gun, but not because she asked him to. The effort to hold it had just become too much.

        He tried to reassure her. "Thanks, but I'm better now." He grimaced at the sound of his voice, slurred like a drunken sailor's. Lord, what sort of impression was he making on her? "I'll rest a minute, then I think I can get back on my horse and make it to town."

        "Don't be ridiculous!" She gave him a stern, mother-knows-best look. "Your lip's cut, you've one eye swollen shut, and that gash near your temple's bleeding buckets. I saw you get hit with that rock. Why, I'd be surprised if you can even stand."

        "I said I'll manage." To prove his point, Reed tried to push himself up, but his head started spinning, and he fell back.

        No! He couldn't afford to lose his wits now. There was too much to do. He had to find the boy - his brother's illegitimate son. And he had to confront the unsavory woman behind all this, that sordid schemer named Lucy Ames.

        Daylight dimmed and then the blackness engulfed him.