TRAIL OF GOLDEN DREAMS
By
STACEY COVERSTONE
TRAIL OF GOLDEN DREAMS
Copyright 2012 by Stacey Coverstone
Visit Stacey’s website at:
http://www.staceycoverstone.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this ebook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.
August 2012
Cover Art by Sheri L. McGathy
At nineteen, Josie Hart has lived a hard and lonely life on her New Mexican farm. A cryptic map smuggled to her from her pa before he’s hanged gives her a chance to change all that and guides her on a perilous journey toward freedom and a fresh start. But there are others who want what she’s after and will stop at nothing to get it.
Grey Paladin seeks justice after having had his fortune stolen from him from that thief, Leroy Hart. He’ll do whatever it takes to retrieve what’s rightfully his and reunite with the only family he has left. That is, until Leroy’s feisty daughter stands in his way and makes his life more complicated.
When Josie and Grey form an uncertain partnership, they must battle outlaws, nature, and each other while riding two hundred miles of dangerous trail to reach their destination and find the gold nuggets that will make their dreams come true. What they discover at the end of the trail is something that’s been sorely lacking in both their lives, leading them each to rethink what the future could hold.
Dedication
To Linda Otto, my lifelong friend, who bravely climbed the steep, narrow, and sometimes treacherous canyon walls in the hot New Mexico sun to the real Nambe Falls so I could do research for this novel.
And to Paul, my husband and steadfast partner in the journey of life, love, and the pursuit of a little peace and quiet.
Chapter One
Spring 1882, New Mexico Territory
Josie Hart stood in the garden leaning on a hoe with sweat trickling down the back of her work shirt. She stared as the boy’s lathered horse skidded to a stop in front of her small cabin. Ben bounded off his big quarter horse and waved hello to her. She waved back, wondering what had brought him from Dry Gulch on such a hot day. Visitors were few and far between to the farm. When they did come, trouble usually followed.
With her brow furrowed, she watched his smooth gait eat up the distance between them. He was the fourteen-year old son of the town’s storekeeper. Despite being five years younger, he stood a good six inches taller than her. Half Tewa Indian, Josie was short and petite like her deceased mother. Also like her mother, she had long black hair that she normally wore in a braid down her back. She met Ben halfway across the barnyard and stood in his shadow.
“Good afternoon, Ben. What brings you all the way out here?”
“Afternoon, Miss Hart.” The boy drew a deep breath into his lungs. It was obvious he’d ridden hell-bent for leather across the desert.
“You’re exhausted,” she said, striding toward the well. “Let me get you a dipper of water.”
“That’s mighty nice of you, Miss Hart. I’d be grateful for a cool drink.” Ben wiped his dusty face with the back of his hand and joined her at the well. Josie dunked a tin cup into the half-full wooden bucket and offered it to him. He guzzled it down in one long draw. “Thank you.”
The beats of Josie’s heart picked up their pace, while her gaze remained glued to Ben. Her eyes were the one physical trait she’d inherited from her pa—they being a deep indigo blue color. She’d been told more than once that she cut a pretty figure of a woman, with that shiny black hair and those bright eyes that flashed like twinkling stars when she got angry. Unfortunately, the sweet talkers were mostly old men who thought she was easy prey because she was alone much of the time. Ma had died when she was a child. Pa was rarely home.
Leroy Hart had spent most of Josie’s childhood in the mines hoping to strike it rich or moving from town to town, committing petty crimes to keep him in whiskey and good horseflesh. Josie was nineteen now, and had been left, more or less, to fend for herself on their fledgling farm since she was thirteen. Unfortunately, she’d had to do what was necessary to survive alone in the wild New Mexican territory. That meant forsaking her feminine qualities and becoming as tough as a square-headed nail. Once in town, she’d stuck her double-barreled derringer up the nose of a surly cowboy who’d refused to let her pass on the sidewalk. Another time, she’d stomped the shin of a two-bit gambler who’d let a rude comment fly in front of children.
Pa’s neglect had caused deep hurt and loneliness, but at least she could thank him for one thing. Being abandoned at a young age had taught her how to take care of herself. Her sun-baked mind wandered as Ben chugged down a second cup of water. He used his shirtsleeve to mop up the drips that slid from the corner of his mouth.
Josie snapped back to reality and placed her hands on her hips. “Why were you in such a hurry to get out here, Ben? I saw the way you were riding—like an Injun was after your scalp.”
Ben’s eyes bulged. Normally, she would have bit back a grin, but she hadn’t been trying to make a joke. Her pulse raced with anxiety. The heat around her suddenly felt suffocating. She watched him shift his weight from one foot to the other, and then he looked her square in the face.
“I fear I bring bad news.”
Josie removed her cowboy hat and smacked it against her thigh. Dust flew off and floated into the sultry air. Sighing, she said, “Is there ever any other kind?”
Silence filled the space between them.
“Go ahead and tell me straight out,” she urged. “What is it this time? Did my pa come back to town, get drunk and forget to pay his saloon tab? Or was he in another fistfight? Did he get hauled to jail again?”
Ben’s mouth drew tight. She could tell he hated to be the bearer of bad tidings, but she’d told him to come out with it—so he did. “Your pa’s being hung this afternoon, Josie. My pa thought you’d want to know.”
She gawked at him open-mouthed. The news was not altogether a surprise, but it knocked the air out of her lungs just the same. Leroy had slipped through the law’s hands for years. Everyone had known it would only be a matter of time before they caught up to him and finally made him pay for his sins. Still, the heat ignited in her stomach like a furnace and crept into her neck and spread down her arms. That kind of news would have been a shock to anyone.
“Why’s he being hung?” she asked.
“Marshal Kendall claims he stole a horse.”
Josie felt bile rising in her throat. Her stomach gripped like someone had slung a lasso around her middle and tied a tight knot. “After all the immoral and downright despicable acts my pa has supposedly committed throughout his lifetime, I can hardly believe he’s going to meet his Maker for stealing a horse.” The corners of her mouth drooped, and she shook her head.
Ben shoved his hands in his pockets. It seemed he didn’t know what to say.
“Will he be dying alone?” she asked.
“No. There was another man caught with him by the name of Williams. Do you know him?”
She responded with a shake of her head.
The two of them stood for a while, not speaking. Ben looked up and watched a hawk circling above. Then his gaze set upon the desert, where cones of heat and dust devils spiraled up from the red floor. When she finally extended her hand, Ben shook it firm
ly, like a man. She was sorry about the sweat and dirt that creased her palm, and told him so.
“I don’t mind,” he replied with a smile. “It’s not often I get to hold a pretty girl’s hand, dirt or no dirt.”
She didn’t acknowledge the compliment. Her mind was already somewhere else. She set her jaw and tossed the hoe onto the ground. “I guess I’d better saddle up and get into town. What time is the hanging?”
“Two o’clock.”
“Two o’clock,” she repeated, feeling blank inside. She took a step toward the cabin, and then whirled around, remembering her manners. “Thank you, Ben. I appreciate your taking the time to come tell me.”
He nodded and sauntered toward his horse. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “I nearly forgot.” Rushing back to her, he pulled something from his coat pocket. “He wanted you to have this.” He offered her a crinkled envelope.
“Who wanted me to have it?”
“Mr. Hart.”
Josie’s eyes widened. “You saw him? You talked to my pa?”
“Yes, ma’am. He asked me to give this to you, just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“In case you can’t make it to the hanging. But he sure hopes you will.”
She took the envelope from Ben and stared at it a moment before sticking it in the waistband of her work pants. Then she thanked him again and tossed him a wave as he mounted his steed and rode off. Her heart hammered inside her chest. Leroy had never been much of a father, but he was still her pa. Apparently, he wanted her with him in his last moments. She wouldn’t let him down.
Stepping into the cabin, she quickly washed her face using water in the porcelain bowl that sat on a table near the door. The bowl was the one thing she had left that had belonged to her ma. There was a hairline crack running along the edge, but the bowl was still beautiful to her eyes. She ran her finger around the rim and conjured up the sweet, round face of her mama. The memories were sparse, only that Ma had warm brown eyes and a soft breast that jiggled when she laughed. That and how loved Josie had felt by her.
After changing out of her work clothes and into her one decent skirt with petticoats underneath, Josie hastily gathered up a few personal belongings in case she decided to spend the night at the hotel in town. She stuffed the items into her leather saddlebags, including the envelope, which she did not bother to open right then. Whatever her pa had written would have to wait. He could say what he needed in person when she got to Dry Gulch.
Ben was long gone when Josie strutted outside. After filling a canteen with water from the well, she cinched her stampede string tight up under her chin and headed to the barn. “We’re going on a little trip,” she told her mule, Traveler, while saddling him. He replied with a loud bray.
After tossing the saddlebags over the saddle horn, Josie stuck a foot into the stirrup and heaved herself onto the mule’s back. She slung her right leg over the saddle to straddle it and tucked the folds of her skirts between her thighs so they wouldn’t get caught in the stirrups.
“Yaw!” she hollered. Her boot heels dug into Traveler’s sides, and she nudged him into a fast lope toward town.
* * * *
Josie rode Traveler slowly down Dry Gulch’s main street. A hanging always brought a little excitement to the small town where boredom often prevailed, and today was no exception. Although Leroy Hart was mostly a two-bit hustler, the streets swarmed with curious onlookers and folks in town for a bit of entertainment.
She halted Traveler at the jailhouse, swung off his broad back, and tied the big gray mule to a hitching post. She slung her saddlebags over her shoulder and glanced down the street. The gallows stood at the far end, two nooses knotted and ready for swinging. The Dry Gulch Cemetery, situated at the top of a hill, loomed ominously in the background. Wishing to ignore it, she shoved the jailhouse door open with her foot and strolled in.
Reclining in a wooden chair with his boots propped up on the desk sat the long-legged deputy. His hat was tipped, covering his eyes, and he appeared to be asleep. She pounded on the desk with her fist.
“What the…?” The front legs of the chair clattered against the floor, rousing him from his nap. When he raised his hat with the tip of his finger, a smile spread across his tanned face. “Josie Hart. If you ain’t a sight for sore eyes.”
“Del,” she said with a curt nod. “I understand you’re holding my father.” She glared at the man, not wasting time with pleasantries.
Del Emmerson rose to his feet and stretched his hand out to shake. “It’s good to see you, Josie. You’re looking mighty pretty today.” He let his eyes rake over her body.
She kept her arms firmly planted at her sides. Swinging her head toward the door that divided the office from the cells, she repeated, “I’ve been told Leroy’s here. I want to see him.”
The deputy removed his hat and scratched his head. “Ah, Josie. Why put yourself through that? He’s never done nothin’ but cause you misery. Do yourself a favor and ride back home. Try to forget Leroy was your pa. He’s just a no-good horse thief, plus a few other things I won’t mention, out of respect for you.”
It didn’t take much to get her ire up. That was another trait she’d inherited from her father. Josie lunged across the desk and twisted the deputy’s shirt collar into her fist. Her face was a mere inch away from his—so close, in fact, that she could smell on his breath the onions and jalapenos he’d had for lunch. In a low, even voice, she said, “Get the keys and open that damn door so I can see my pa.”
Del grinned, exposing a tobacco-stained row of teeth. “I’ve wanted to kiss that smart little mouth of yours since I was twelve years old. Looks like I finally get the chance.” He grabbed the back of her head with a quick, strong hand and forced his dry lips on hers.
Grunting, she squirmed and pinched his nipple through his thin shirt, giving it a hard twist. When he yelped, she broke free, raised her hand and slapped him across the face, leaving a bright pink welt on his unshaven cheek. Del’s eyes flashed black at first. Then he threw back his head and laughed. “You squaws are full of piss and vinegar!”
Josie roughly rubbed his kiss off her lips with the back of her hand. Behind clenched teeth she asked, “Are you gonna let me see him? Or are you gonna stand there all day acting like the fool that you are?”
Glowering, he pointed his finger in her face and darkly answered, “I ain’t no fool. And don’t you forget it.” Slowly, he lifted the ring of keys from a nail behind the desk and moseyed over to the dividing door. When he unlocked it, she scurried past him with her skirts swishing.
“Josephine!” Leroy rushed to the front of the cell and wrapped his fingers around the iron bars. Another man in the adjoining cell lay on a cot with his hands clasped behind his neck. She assumed this was the Williams man Ben had mentioned.
“I’ll just leave this door open,” Del told her. His lip curled into a smirk. “I hope you’re not planning on trying anything funny, Josie. Such as breaking your pa out of here. You’ll end up in a cell next to him if you do.”
Her eyes narrowed. “The last thing I’m interested in is spending any time near you, Del. Give us some privacy. Go back to your slumber.” She shooed the lanky cowboy away as if he were a pesky fly, and then turned and stood in front of her father. The tips of her fingers skimmed his, and she graced him with a weak smile.
Before they’d even spoken two words, the jailhouse door squeaked open and her head swiveled. Her stomach sank when Marshal Wade Kendall stepped across the threshold. The man was not tall, but he was built like a brick wall and exuded the stone-hard confidence of a person who held absolute power over the lives of others, which of course was the case in Dry Gulch. His eyes were beady like a rat’s, and dark as dirt. A scar cut across his right eyebrow and snaked down his cheek, disappearing somewhere behind his ear. Rumor had it he’d been a gunfighter in his younger days.
The marshal looked past his deputy and stared at her from under the brim of his hat. “What’s she doing h
ere?” he grumbled.
Del stated the obvious. “Come to see her pa before we string him up, I reckon.”
Kendall puffed his chest out, opened his black jacket and tapped the .45 holstered at his side with his gloved finger.
He and Josie’s eyes locked, and a cold shiver ran down her spine.
Chapter Two
Despite the man’s intimidating presence, Josie wasn’t about to show any fear. She glared back, unwavering. When the marshal stepped forward and pulled the wooden door shut, just a bit, she let out the breath she’d been holding and turned back to her father.
Leroy peered at her sadly. “I’m glad you came, honey,” he whispered. “I couldn’t bear to die alone. I need you here when I go.”
She grabbed hold of the bars. “Pa, tell me the truth. Did you steal a horse like they say? Is that the real reason they’re hanging you?”
He nodded. “You know how it is, Josephine. Folks don’t take kindly to horse thieves.”
She sighed deeply. “Did they even give you a trial?”
He chuckled softly. “Horse thieves don’t get trials, little girl. My luck ran out, that’s all. It’s as simple as that. There’s no use fretting over what’s to be.” He threaded his fingers between hers.
It had been so long since she’d felt her father’s touch. She squeezed his hand hard and felt her emotions bubbling to the surface.
“Josephine, there’s not much time, so I want to tell you how sorry I am for all the years of not being a better pa to you. I have many regrets.”
Surprised by his heartfelt words, she barely moved a muscle while listening.
“I didn’t raise you properly. I never took care of you the way a good pa should.”
“You did the best you knew how,” she replied, bowing her head.
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