Free to Roam
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Free to Roam
A Texas Wildflowers Novelette
By Leah Atwood
Freedom Brides
A controversial new program. A new hope for six women in need. When others wilt, they will thrive. These are the Texas Wildflowers.
Free to Love
Free to Heal
Free to Protect
Free to Serve
Free to Roam
Free to Forgive
Copyright © 2015 by Leah Atwood
Cover Design © Susette Williams
Cover Image © dollarphotoclub.com- dfikar/ periodimages.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
Note from the Author
Other Available Titles from Leah Atwood
Excerpt from Whiter than Snow
Chapter 1
Mucksbe, Texas was unlike any place Bess Star had ever been. The land was dry, air dusty, and even late in November, the warm temperature caused perspiration to bead on her forehead. Homes and businesses lined two streets which intersected and formed the bulk of the town. Several other houses and buildings were scattered along several other side streets that were little more than clearings with ruts cut into the earth from the repetitive paths of wagons.
She looked out the window of her boardinghouse room. For the third time in twenty minutes, she questioned her wisdom of leaving New York on a whim. Having lived in a city all her life, she knew little about life in the Texas wilderness. What made her think she should move here and claim her inheritance, left to her by an uncle she’d never known.
At least Mucksbe wouldn’t hold any memories of Jonathan, the evil rat of a man who’d broken their engagement because he’d fallen in love with Mona Ackerson.
Bess snorted. Fallen in love with Mona’s wealthy family and her graceful appearance. Mona was petite, with creamy porcelain skin and fawn brown hair that was always perfectly styled. Next to her, feelings of inferiority had always struck Bess—she stood several inches taller than most females, her hair was a dull, dark blonde, and her green eyes positioned too closely together.
Jonathan’s desertion only fueled those insecurities. It’s what prompted her to give up her comfortable life in the city and flee to the faraway land called Texas. In the month since she’d decided to move, she’d read everything she could about the state, but nothing had prepared her for its vastness. First by train, then by stage, she’d traveled across its lonely lands, occasionally passing through a quaint town. By the time she reached Mucksbe, she’d decided Texas could be its own country.
And it provided the escape she sought. In twenty minutes, she had an appointment with Herb Tarleton, the attorney handling her uncle’s estate. Last spring, she’d received a telegram that her late father’s brother had passed away and had left his property to her. Why he’d chosen to bequeath it to her, she’d didn’t know, but she was thankful for the opportunity it gave to her to leave New York.
Bess moved across the room, to the pitcher and basin on a stand by her door. The cool water she splashed on her face eased some of the heat’s discomfort. Dabbing a towel on her skin, she thought of her upcoming meeting. Would she be able to take possession of the property today, or would she need to remain in the boarding house for several more days? What would the house look like? There was a house, she’d inquired about that shortly after her hasty decision, but she knew little else about her inheritance.
She grabbed her reticule and left her room, locking the door behind her. A single flight of stairs took her to the rear door of the home, a purposeful decision so she could slip out unnoticed. Last night she’d discovered the other boarders were a talkative group, and she didn’t want to be late for her appointment. A couple with a young girl walked down the street, and several other people stood outside businesses. A few waved to her as she strolled toward Mr. Tarleton’s office.
Friendly town. That was a vote in its favor. She kept a running tally and would do so in the upcoming months. Eventually, she’d have to decide whether to stay in Texas or return to New York.
The attorney’s office wasn’t difficult to find. Its door was propped open, and Bess walked through the entrance.
“May I help you?” A grandfatherly type man with gray hair and a mustache rose from the chair behind his desk.
“I’m Bess Star. I have a meeting with Mr. Herb Tarleton.”
“Yes. I should have recognized you.” He approached her. “You bear a resemblance to Frank.”
His comparison of her to her uncle made her cringe. She was certain he meant nothing negative by it, but the wounds from Jonathan ran deep. If she’d been more feminine, would Jonathan still have strayed to Mona?
She put on her best smile to cover the hurt. “I wouldn’t know. I never had the pleasure of meeting my uncle.”
“He was a good man, liked by all of Mucksbe.” Mr. Tarleton gestured toward a chair. “Come in and have a seat. Can I get you anything before we begin? Some water, perhaps?”
“Water would be great.”
When he walked through a rear door, Bess took a seat. Mr. Tarleton returned shortly with a crystal glass. The water was tepid but pleasant to her parched throat. She held the glass with both hands while she watched the attorney glance through the papers.
Mr. Tarleton glanced up after several seconds. “Do you know anything about your uncle’s place?”
“No, sir.”
“Your uncle owned a ranch five miles out of town. Not the largest around, but substantial nonetheless, with a solid reputation.”
A ranch? Her eyes widened. “It’s not just a house?”
“No, ma’am. The entire operation was left to you.”
She swallowed. “I don’t know a thing about ranching. I only wanted a place to live while I sort through some changes in my life.”
A soft chuckle shook the hairs of his mustache. “Frank understood you wouldn’t, so he made provisions.”
“What kind of provisions?”
“His foreman, Nate Echols, has been looking after the place until your arrival, and will continue to do so until all stipulations are fulfilled.”
“And if I hadn’t come?”
“If you hadn’t made a claim within a year, the entire place would go up for sale with the proceeds dispersed to various establishments and citizens of Frank’s choosing.”
Well, that wasn’t going to happen. She was here and would take her claim. Her parents were gone, along with the only relative about which she knew. Maybe by living on her uncle’s ranch, she’d be able to learn about the man she’d never had the opportunity to know. Something Mr. Tarleton said echoed in her mind. “What did you mean about stipulations being fulfilled?”
Coughing into his arm, Mr. Tarleton averted his gaze for several seconds. “Your uncle added a caveat that the estate not be signed over to you unless you are married.”
A shocked gasp tickled her lips. “That’s preposterous. I won’t marry someone for the sole purpose of claiming my inheritance.”
“What happens if I remain unmarried?” She hadn’t come all the way to Texas for nothing, but no way would she commit herself to a stranger which would be her only marriage prospect.
“You may live on the property until the one year timeframe has passed. However, if you’ve not fulfilled the requirements, including marriage, the estate will be disposed of as if you’d not come.”
Relief lifted the weight from her shoulders. “Then I have a year to find a solution, or inquire about the validity of such a stipulation.”
“I’ve already consulted with several colleagues around the state. Each of us has concluded that Frank’s will and all directives are valid.” He pinched his nose. “But I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood. The one year began at the time of Frank’s death, which gives you three months to fulfill all requirements.”
Bess was about to debate the topic further when Mr. Tarleton’s words set in. She could tell from the firm lines of his face that she’d have no choice but to marry or lose her inheritance.
Chapter 2
“Happy Thanksgiving.” Sheriff Daniels walked through the opened cell and carried a tray of food in each hand.
The unlocked jail cell failed to make Clint any happier. Locked or open, there wasn’t much difference. Sure, he and Trey had earned the sheriff’s trust and had been granted certain freedoms, but they were empty tokens. The trapped feeling of confinement never left him.
At the end of the day, he was still stuck in the tiny cell he shared with Trey Lawton. They were the last two prisoners participating in the Freedom Brides program, the only men who had not married yet in exchange for their freedom. Seemed to Clint, the first four men married off rather quickly—some were even out of their six-month probation already—then the whole program came to a standstill.
“What’s so happy about it?” Grumbling from his reclined position on the bed, Clint turned his head and caught a glimpse of the food.
“A homemade dinner.” Sheriff Daniels’ eyebrows wagged. “Or the possibility of one you getting out of here today.”
Clint shot upright. “Which one of us?”
“They lady will choose for herself. A widow passing through on her way to Arizona.” A fleck of sympathy dusted the lawman’s eyes. “Her husband passed away yesterday, and she’s looking for an escort to take her back home.”
“An escort or a husband?”
“Just an escort. I’ll be bending the rules again, but if it gets one of you out of here, then so be it. She’ll be stopping by the jail within the hour.” Sheriff Daniels winked. “Now eat up while it’s still warm. Sarah brought some of her apple pie for you both to enjoy.”
Trey walked to the table that had been moved into the cell a month ago and sat down. Clint joined him. There were worse places a man could have spent Thanksgiving, or served out jail time. Not every jail would give their prisoners a hot meal every night—three courses minimum. He hated to admit it, but if he ever were locked up again, he’d choose this jail in Mucksbe. Not that he had any intentions of ever being on this side of a jail cell again. Goodness only knew he’d never meant to this time.
Because he’d offered his outlaw brothers shelter, he’d been thrown in jail, and subsequently, he lost his own ranch. The news came two months ago from a messenger. With no one running the place, and no profits to be made, the loan couldn’t be paid.
His only help now was the bizarre Freedom Brides program a bunch of small towns had joined forces to create. All he had to do was marry a woman who needed help, follow six simple rules and in six months’ time, he would have complete freedom.
And that pesky thing called a wife. He didn’t particularly want one, but he wanted to stay in the jail even less than he wanted a bride. With any luck, he’d get the assignment of escorting this woman so he wouldn’t even have a wife when all was said and done. But luck had never been on his side, so he didn’t hold his breath.
If he got a wife from town, he’d convince her to move out of town and eventually start a ranch near Mucksbe or anywhere they decided. Just as long as they didn’t live in town. He’d suffocate from the closeness of everything. For as long as he lived, he’d never understand why anyone would choose the city over wide-open land. Even small towns like Mucksbe were constantly developing. Last year, he’d passed through Mucksbe on his way to Dallas, and it had grown even since then.
“If you’re not hungry, I’ll eat your portion.” Trey reached for a biscuit.
Clint slapped away his hand. “Not in this life.” He forked a piece of roasted turkey and lifted it to his mouth, took a bite. Delicious. The food was the only bright spot of serving out a five-year sentence if no potential wife came forward.
They ate the remainder of their meal in silence. Clint thought back to happier times before his brothers turned to the wrong side of the law. They had shared some great times together, but they had chosen to take different paths in life. Even so, it didn’t negate the fact they were family, and he loved them. He only wished his brothers had seen fit to not inflict their problems in his life.
A half hour after he’d brought the food, Sheriff Daniels’ returned to the cell, a frown on his face. “Bad news, fellows.”
“You ate the last slice of pie?” Trey laughed, apparently oblivious to the sour look on Sheriff Daniels’ face.
“Don’t tempt me, but Sarah has more at home anyway.”
“What is it, Sheriff?” Clint would rather have the news upfront.
“The lady I mentioned earlier—seems she found a gentleman at the boarding house willing to take her to her home back east.”
Disappointment erased all the goodness of the meal Clint had consumed. So much for gratitude on this day of thanks. The lady might have chosen Trey over him, but for a few minutes, he’d had an ounce of hope. “Should’ve figured,” he muttered.
“Don’t get too disheartened. I’ve heard some rumors around town about another lady who might be needing help.” Sheriff Daniels switched his gaze from Clint to Trey. “I’ve already reminded her attorney of our program, and let him know the two of you are still here, and willing to marry.”
So what. Clint wouldn’t allow himself any more hope. Between the jail from his hometown and Mucksbe, he’d been behind bars for over a year and reconciled himself to the fact he might just have to serve his entire five-year sentence.
And all because he’d helped out family. The worst part was, his brothers—the true criminals—were still on the run. Life sure wasn’t fair.
Chapter 3
One week after moving to Texas, Bess sat behind the desk in her late uncle’s study, poring over old records and ledgers. The notes were a foreign language to her, the numbers a jumble. One thing was clear—she knew absolutely nothing about running a ranch. She could learn, but to be truthful, it didn’t interest her. All she’d ever wanted was to be a wife, and one day a mother.
Someone knocked on the door, and Bess looked up to see Nate Echols.
“Do you have a minute, Boss?” His tall, lanky frame lingered at the entrance.
Because of his twang, Bess didn’t know if he was calling her “boss” in deference to her new status as owner, or calling her by her given name. She’d heard him refer to other women as “Mrs.” and “Miss” so she could only assume he said “boss.”
It was a title she was uncomfortable with for multiple reasons. For one thing, it made her feel like one of the men. If she were a man, that would be completely acceptable, but as it was, she didn’t need anything else to make her feel less feminine. Jonathan had done an adequate job of that with his betrayal.
Second, she was undeserving of the title. She wasn’t the real boss, and she had happened into the situation. Nate was the real boss, that was, until she married, if she did at all. She was still trying to find a loophole to circumnavigate that clause of the will.
Even then, she’d was left with the problem of finding someone to run the business si
de of the outfit. Nate had been kind, but clear that he was ready to hand over the reins of that part. Being outside, in charge of the cattle, was more to his liking. Bess thought about giving him a raise. The man worked nonstop.
“Come in.” She waved to the leather chair.
Nate entered, but didn’t sit. “I just wanted to let you know the men won’t be in until really late tonight. There was a breach in the west fence and some of Louis Decatur’s cattle are grazing on our land.”
“What needs to be done?” She stared at him with a questioning expression.
“Our hands will round them up and get them back to Decatur, but it will take a while, and then they’ll have to repair the fence.”
“Shouldn’t Decatur’s men take care of the cows?”
Covering his mouth, Nate tried to hide his laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Puzzled again, she didn’t know what she’d said wrong.
“I’m sorry, Boss, I forgot you’re from the city. It’s just that no self-respecting cattleman would refer to his herd as cows.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks warmed.
“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have laughed.” Nate straightened. “Beyond that, ‘round these parts, people help their neighbors out. Decatur’s men have done similar favors for the Bar S in the past.”
“That’s good to know.” It was another reason on her growing list for her to stay in Texas. “I made some molasses cookies last night. Would you to take some with you?”
“I sure would.” Nate chuckled. “Cook manages just fine with beans and meat, but baking isn’t something he’s very good at.”
She pushed her chair back and stood, eager for an excuse to take a break from the ledgers. “Follow me to the kitchen. I’ll wrap some for you and send some for the Decatur’s as well.”
Later that night, Bess donned her white flannel, ankle length nightgown. The temperature had cooled considerably in the last week, and the warm material would keep her cozy. She went to bed and curled under the covers. Exhausted as she was, she found it near impossible to sleep. She was mind-weary and couldn’t stop thinking about her predicament.