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The Lawless Women trilogy is dedicated to the memory of Jimmie H. Deal, Sr., my beloved father who passed away on December 24, 1995.
Chapter 1
Please don’t leave me, Jacey. Please don’t. When I open my eyes, you’ll be riding back on Knight and you’ll say you were just teasing. Oh please, Jacey. Don’t leave me here with the graves and the memories. Don’t.
Glory slid her hands down her face to press her cold fingers against her mouth. Taking a deep breath for courage, she opened her eyes. Where only moments ago her older sister had reared her black gelding atop a bald hill, that gentle swell now stood barren, washed in the autumn morning’s cool shadows.
She’s really gone. Glory slumped, defeated, her hands now at her sides. No amount of prayer or pleading or injured silence on her part had kept Jacey here. Glory turned to her plump little elf of a nanny. “I should’ve stayed in my room like I said I would, Biddy. Jacey didn’t deserve a farewell from me. How could she just up and leave like this? I hate her for going.”
Her apple-cheeked face lining with her frown, Biddy patted Glory’s arm. “Now, darlin’, ye know ye don’t hate yer sister. We’ve worries enough—with Hannah in Boston and Jacey riding off to certain trouble in the Arizona Territory—without ye addin’ to it. Yer just scared.”
Glory’s bottom lip quivered with the truth of that. “Well, I have every right to be. I’ve never been alone on the ranch like this. And after everything else that’s happened—all the killings and the funerals and such—it just seems that there’s an emptiness here now, Biddy, as if you and I are the only ones left in the world. Are … are you scared, too?”
Biddy tipped her double chins up and struck what to Glory was a brave but unconvincing pose. “Of course I’m scared. Only a fool wouldn’t be.” Having thickened the air with that observation, she turned her frowning attention back to the washboard roll of the low hills beyond the Lawless ranch yard.
A sudden and brisk gust lifted Glory’s skirt hem, chilling her and chasing goose bumps over her exposed flesh. Shivering, she hugged her shawl around her shoulders and stepped back into the shelter provided by the verandah’s overhanging roof. From there, she surveyed the patch of land she knew as home. The Lawless spread. A vast cattle ranch sprawling across the tallgrass plains and rolling hills of no-man’s-land.
Mama and Papa had dreamed of a better life for them all. But now … they were buried out back, alongside Old Pete. And her older sisters? Gone from home, looking for answers, for vengeance. That left her in charge. Glory swallowed, feeling the responsibility press on her shoulders for every man, horse, cow, and blade of grass for miles around.
She couldn’t do this. A prick of panic gripped her belly, urged her to run after Jacey and again beg her to stay. No. Glory stubbornly fisted her hands in her shawl’s folds. No. It’s best to think about what I can do. Which wasn’t much, she admitted. After all, Papa’d seen to the day-to-day running of the ranch, the hiring and firing, the buying and selling of the cattle, the ordering of supplies. Jacey’d dogged his every step, so she knew all the ins-and-outs. But she was gone.
And Mama … Well, she tried to teach me, Glory grimaced, remembering how she’d dawdled so long over household tasks that Mama’d shake her elegant head, shoo her away, and put the work in Hannah’s capable hands. Thus freed—the memory now pricked at Glory’s conscience—she’d fritter away the hours in her room, indulging her romantic daydreams of her own home, a loving husband, and her own beautiful children.
Just how you intend to take care of them, Mama’d fussed, when you won’t lend your hand to the simplest of tasks, I’ll never know, Glory Bea Lawless.
Oh, why hadn’t she paid more attention, asked more questions? Because here she was now—nineteen and helpless. And in charge. Well, surely I know something. Glory bit thoughtfully at her lower lip. She’d helped Mama with the bookkeeping. And gotten in the way when Biddy was baking. And she’d also … Nothing else came to mind. Surprised realization stiffened her spine. That’s it? That’s all I know?
Glory blinked, and found she was staring at Biddy’s wide and capable back. Solace and reassurance rested with her. In a blaze of emotion, Glory hurried to her and clutched at her beloved nanny. Biddy’s squawk of startlement at being grabbed from behind blended with Glory’s heartfelt and sobbing cry of “You’re the only one who hasn’t left me, Biddy. I love you.”
Biddy turned in Glory’s embrace and hugged her tightly. “There, there, child. I love ye, too. Yer sisters will be back. We must believe that. But right now ’tis ye I’m worried about. Yer breakin’ me heart—all that time ye spend at yer poor parents’ graves. ’Tis not good for ye. Why, look at yerself—ye haven’t eaten or slept properly for the past month. Are ye still havin’ those nightmares?”
Nestling her face in the warm crook of her nanny’s neck and shoulder, her fragmented world momentarily warm and secure, Glory nodded her head and sniffed inconsolably. Then she pulled away and turned to stare out at the wind-stirred tallgrass. “I keep … seeing them, Biddy. Mama and Papa. Just lying there. All that blood.”
“I know, child. But ye must let go. Ye must look to tomorrow, to what needs to be done. It’s what ye do from here on out that’ll cure what ails ye.”
Glory pivoted to face Biddy. “I know what needs to be done—everything. With Hannah and now Jacey gone, I ought to be cured inside of a week, wouldn’t you say? Because I’m now the Lawless in charge, even though I don’t have the first idea what to do.” Glory sighed, lifting her chin. “But I suppose I have to try. Because this ranch was Mama’s and Papa’s dream. And now, I must see that the dream lives. There’s no one else to do it.”
Having made that brave speech, Glory stood there, fearing she was already bested by circumstances. Her shoulders slumped right along with her resolve. “Oh, what am I saying? I don’t know a thing about running a cattle ranch. It’ll dry up and blow away because of me.” The enormity of it all brought her hands to her mouth. She stared teary-eyed at her grandmotherly nanny.
Biddy leapt into action. “You’ll do a fine job of it. And plenty of help ye’ll have. Why, Smiley’s been the foreman since yer father settled the place. He’ll still make the everyday ranching decisions. An’ Sourdough’s out in the cook shack stirrin’ up the men’s breakfast this minute. He knows what supplies are needed and when to get them. An’ there’s me, darlin’. I’ll be takin’ care of ye. Now see? Ye’ll be naught but an overseer until yer sisters come home.”
Heartened by Biddy’s cheery picture, Glory smiled—and exhaled for the first time since Jacey’d announced yesterday afternoon that she was leaving. “You’re right. We’ll be just fine. Hannah and Jacey will be so proud when they come home. The ranch’ll be better than ever.”
“That’s the spirit!” Biddy beamed with pride. “Those are the first words ye’ve uttered in a month that show some gumption.” She clasped Glory’s hand with
both of hers. “Proud of me baby, I am.”
“Now, Biddy, you can’t go on calling me a baby,” Glory chided, feeling stronger by the minute. “I’m a grown woman in charge of a cattle ranch. And I’m a Lawless. Papa’s blood flows through my veins. And the way I see it, that more than makes up for whatever I don’t know. I don’t need anyone’s help.”
A sudden and stark expression puckered Biddy’s mouth, catching Glory off guard. “What is it, Biddy? What’s wrong?”
Biddy shook her head, unsettling gray, wispy curls from her knot of a bun. She then gripped Glory’s arm with a fierceness that surprised her. “Listen to me. Ye’ll need other help besides that of a bunch of old folks who maybe canna protect you, should them murderers decide to ambush us again. So I’ll hear no talk of Lawless pride and how ye can take care of yer own without outside help. ’Tis rubbish and will see us all dead. I want a promise from you. Should outside help come a-callin’, promise me ye’ll accept it, Glory Bea. Promise me.”
Truly alarmed now—she hadn’t considered the possibility that the unknown men who killed Mama and Papa might return—Glory cried, “I promise, Biddy. I swear it. Do you really think they might come back?”
Biddy relaxed her grip on Glory’s arm and nodded up at her. “I fear it, I do. Child, we don’t know the who or the why of my beloved Catherine and yer father bein’ cut down like they were … and in their own home. So we must keep a watch. ’Tis not much, but ’tis all we can do—be prepared and be careful. And go on living.”
With that, Biddy released Glory and turned to stare out at the prairie vista beyond the security of the Lawless fence. In a moment, she waved her pudgy, brown-spotted hand, urging Glory to join her at the low railing that ran the circumference of the wraparound verandah. “Come here, child. Look.”
Glory immediately obeyed. “What am I looking for?” She searched the horizon, but could detect no movement. Only the autumn-browned tallgrass waved in the wind. Realizing Biddy hadn’t answered her, Glory repeated, “Biddy, what are you looking for? What do you want me to see?”
“Yer sisters,” came her answer.
Glory’s stomach flopped with a creeping fear. Could the sweet old lady’s mind be slipping? Did Biddy really know what was going on around her? She appeared to, and yet she’d been muttering to herself all morning—even before Jacey left. And she’d looked out the curtains, searching the outdoors from every window in the house—on both floors. Twice.
One way or the other, she had to know, Glory decided. She took a deep breath and blurted, “Biddy, how can I see my sisters? You know Hannah’s in Boston, don’t you? Remember—she left last month with that letter from Mama’s family, thinking they may have had a hand in her and Papa’s deaths?”
Biddy nodded up at Glory. “Of course I know.”
But Glory wasn’t so sure. She searched her nanny’s faded-blue eyes, saw they were clear and focused on her. But still, she challenged, “Good. Do you also recall that Jacey just left with that broken spur? She thinks it proves someone from Papa’s old gang was here the day of the … murders.”
Biddy pursed her lips, as if exasperated. “’Tis not addled I am, Glory. I know full well where yer sisters are and the why of it. ’Twas just an old lady’s hope to see them riding over them hills, all safe and sound, that had me looking for them. But they’re out of me nest now, and there’s naught I can do to protect them. But I have ye here, and I’ll not see anything happen to ye. Mark me words—I’d do anything to see that yer safe. Anything.”
Ashamed for having doubted Biddy, Glory looked down at her feet and mumbled, “I know, Biddy. And I’m sorry. It’s just that … I wish Mama and Papa were still here. And Old Pete. And his cats and dogs.”
Biddy sighed and said, “Oh, me too, child. I miss ’em all somethin’ fierce, I do.” Then she became all bustling business as she tugged Glory by her hand. “Come on, then. Yer stubborn sister is gone. We should go inside before ye catch yer death from this October air.”
Glory dug in her heels, resisting Biddy’s pulling on her. If she was going to be in charge here, she couldn’t allow her nanny to boss her around. “You go inside. I’d better go check with Smiley about the—”
Biddy’s sudden flapping of her other hand in Glory’s face startled her, cut off her words. “Shh, Glory. Did ye hear that?”
“Hear what?” Glory heard only the fear in her own voice. She bit down on her bottom lip. Could the murderers be coming back?
Biddy flapped her hand again for quiet. She cocked her head, listened, and then dragged Glory back to the porch railing with her. Relinquishing her hold there, Biddy shaded her eyes with one hand and pointed with the other. “Look there. Who the devil is that comin’ down the path? ’Tis early of a morn yet, and our closest neighbor is a half-day’s ride away.”
Glory saw them, all right. A wagon and two outriders. Only one family lived a half-day’s ride away. “The Thornes,” she entoned, her features set in disapproving lines. “They’ll never get past the men Smiley has at the gate.”
Biddy harrumphed her opinion and followed it with, “We’ll see.”
Glory shot her a look and then turned her attention to the dust-raising approach of their neighbors. Perched on the buckboard’s seat were a man and a woman. A leggy gray horse, tied to its gate, trotted along behind. But just as Glory had predicted, the guards posted at the gate stepped boldly in the wagon’s path, their rifles raised in a challenge. The wagon drew to a harness-jingling halt at the gated archway proclaiming this land Lawless property.
The wagon’s driver—Glory’s heart lurched with the certainty it was Riley, the oldest Thorne offspring—spoke with the guards and gestured to the main house. Glory cut her gaze to the two outriders and saw they’d reined in a good twenty yards up the rutted dirt path. Two more Thorne sons, no doubt. “What do you suppose they want?”
“An’ how would I be knowin’ what they want? ’Tis not as if I invited them here, now is it? When would I have done that, pray tell?”
Biddy’s high-pitched protests stiffened Glory with sudden suspicion. She turned to her nanny and clutched at her ample arm. “All morning you’ve been looking for someone. And now they’re here. Am I right?”
Looking everywhere but at Glory, Biddy snapped, “I’ve no idea what yer talkin’ about, child. ’Tis merely an innocent visit by our neighbors. Where’s the harm in that?”
Rising temper strangled Glory’s words into a fierce whisper. “Where’s the harm? The Thorne men have never been welcome on Lawless land, and well you know it. Papa tolerated Louise Thorne’s visits with Mama, but that was the extent of it. And you know the why of that, too.”
“I know a lot of things, child. And not all of them right and good,” Biddy countered. “’Tis not Mrs. Thorne upsetting you. ’Tis her son Riley. I know it, and you know it. Now look—the men have allowed them to pass. You just remember yer manners, young lady.”
Glory pivoted to see for herself. Unbelievably, the guards waved the Thornes onto Lawless property. They’d never do that—unless they’d been told to by someone in authority. What was her nanny up to now? Remember my manners? Bad manners, maybe.
Invited or not, Riley Thorne would get a piece of her mind, she fumed. Did he think just because Papa was departed that the land dispute and the bad blood would be forgotten? Nursing her family’s grudge, Glory silently watched the wagon draw near. Suddenly, Biddy rounded on her, drawing Glory’s angry attention her way. “Here they come. And you’ll treat them with the respect yer dear mother always did. Feud or no, she counted Louise Thorne a friend.”
“I’ll be nice to Mrs. Thorne. For Mama.” Giving up only that one inch, Glory pointedly looked away from the team and wagon that drew near. Arms crossed under her shawl-covered bosom, she remained stiffly quiet, even when Biddy called out a greeting and got one in return from the folks in the wagon.
Glory heard the team drawing up to the hitching post. The Thornes could all fall into a deep hole, for all they matt
ered to her. But her harsh sentiment couldn’t prevent her from stealing a glimpse over her shoulder. Intense curiosity compelled her to look, to see what changes the past five years had wrought in Riley. Her breath caught with what she saw. Tall and all filled out. A man. Not at all the skinny, coltish boy she remembered.
Was he also handsome? She flicked her gaze up to his face, but his stiff-brimmed Stetson shaded his features from her view. If only he’d raise it up so I can—Riley caught sight of her and made the sparest gesture of greeting. Glory stiffened and jerked back around. She had nothing to say to him.
But she did have something to say to Biddy. Leaning over and speaking under her breath, she fussed, “Here I am, the only Lawless around to take care of everyone and everything. And what’s the first thing out of the chute? A wagonload of Thornes. If this is about the grazing lands—”
“Shush, child. Maybe ’tis naught to do with the land. Now, do ye want them to hear ye?”
Glory straightened up and purposely raised her voice. “I don’t care if they do. This is my land now, and I’ll do as I see fit.”
Biddy pulled Glory to her plump side and spoke right into her ear. “Listen to ye. Yer poor mother must be turning—”
“Yoo-hoo, Glory? Biddy? Good morning to you,” came Louise Thorne’s booming voice. “I hope we’re not too early of a morning for paying a call?”
Freeing herself from Biddy’s grip, and purposely freezing Riley out of her welcome, Glory forced a smile to her lips and a friendly tone into her voice. “Why no, Mrs. Thorne. It’s always a pleasure to see you.”
A sudden stinging pain tweaked her arm. Glory blinked several times to keep from tearing up. That darned Biddy had pinched her.
She stole another glance at Riley and sucked in sharply when he nimbly jumped down from the buckboard. Her brows arched in appreciation for his long legs and muscular grace. Riley Thorne cut a most pleasing figure of a man. In profile to Glory as he helped his mother alight, he spoke over the creaking of the wagon’s springs. “Morning, Miss Biddy, Miss Glory. Ma insisted on dropping by. Seems she’s worried about you.”
Seasons of Glory Page 1