In late 1864, Bobby had given into his anger, enlisting in the Southern Army. Afterwards, he’d joined a group of disenchanted Confederate soldiers, traveling west to make his fortune so he could support his mother and sister the way their father hadn’t.
They’d heard little from Bobby, receiving few letters and no money, until a telegram came in late 1867 from the sheriff of Splendor. Gabe Evans, the man she’d met on her arrival, had been brief. Bobby had been shot and killed during an attempted bank robbery. If interested, his family could obtain his personal effects in person.
Alison’s stomach still clenched whenever she thought of the curt message announcing her brother’s death. He’d been seventeen, barely a man, and most certainly not a bank robber. With a shaky hand, she swiped a tear from her face, anger at the injustice surfacing again.
She’d made a promise to her mother, and herself, to find the man who had fired the gun. He’d shown Bobby no mercy, and she vowed he’d receive none from her. All she had to do was settle in, get to know the people of Splendor, and discover who murdered her brother. Alison would take care of business, then disappear without a shred of regret.
“Another telegram for you, Sheriff. It’s from Cash. When do you think he’ll be coming home?” Bernie Griggs had run the Western Union office for years, having no plans to ever retire.
“I wish I knew.” Gabe Evans glanced at the message Bernie handed him. After reading it, he shook his head. Cash Coulter, ex-Confederate soldier, bounty hunter, and deputy sheriff in Splendor, had left town right after Gabe married Lena Campanel. He’d provided few details, saying he owed a friend and had to go.
“Do you want to send a reply?”
“Yeah. Tell him to finish up whatever he’s doing and get his scrawny ass back to Splendor.” Gabe tossed a coin on the counter and left, hearing Bernie chuckle before he closed the door.
Taking a few steps toward the jail, his head snapped up at the sound of gunfire coming from the Dixie Saloon. Drawing his gun, Gabe dashed across the muddy street, seeing Beau Davis, his other deputy, storm out of the jail. Their gazes connected. As if they read each other’s mind, Beau crossed as quickly as he could given the tendency of the gooey muck they called a street to tug at his boots.
Getting as close as possible, listening to the continuing gunfire, Gabe nodded at Beau while holding up his fist. One…two…three fingers, then they charged into the saloon, coming to an abrupt stop at the scene before them.
“What the…” Gabe’s gaze moved from the three men crouching under a table to the woman pointing a revolver at them. The look on his wife’s face was feral as she glared at the men.
“Not one of you is welcome in the Dixie again. Do you understand?” She shot another two rounds into the air, then set the revolver on the bar, picking up the loaded one next to it. “Now, get out.” Her voice remained low and strong, the gun not wavering.
Stepping up next to her, Gabe slid an arm around her waist. “Do you need any help?” he whispered in her ear.
“No. I think I can handle this.” She didn’t look at him, all her attention focused on the men still hiding under the table.
“She tried to kill us, Sheriff,” one of the men growled. “You need to arrest her.”
“Why don’t you three come out from your hiding place and we’ll talk.” Gabe dropped his arm from around Lena’s waist and stalked toward the men, still holding his gun in one hand.
“Come on. You heard the sheriff,” Beau said, slapping his hand on the table. “And I’ll take your guns while we sort this out.”
“Hell no. I’m not giving you my gun.” The largest of the three got to his feet, slamming his hat down on his head.
Another shot rang out. “You heard the deputy. Hand over your guns.” Lena narrowed her eyes at the men.
“Lena, why don’t you give me the gun? Beau and I will take it from here.” Gabe reached out, wrapping his hand around the barrel of the gun as her finger moved from the trigger. “Good. Now tell me what happened.” He nodded his appreciation at Paul when the bartender set two whiskeys in front of him. “Here, drink this,” he said, handing a glass to Lena.
She downed it in one swallow before turning to face the three men Beau had lined up against one wall.
“Gina started today.” She crossed her arms, trying to settle the anger still pulsing through her.
“The new server girl from Denver?”
“Yes. If you remember, she doesn’t provide anything except drinks and conversation. She’d served those men drinks, then continued to serve other tables. On the second round, the big one grabbed Gina and settled her on his lap. She tried to stand, but he wouldn’t let her go. He ran his hand up her leg and under her dress. When she slapped him and shoved herself up, he grabbed her arm and slapped her. Then the other two joined in. Neither Paul nor I could get to her fast enough.”
Gabe cursed, understanding why Lena had gone after them.
“I didn’t try to hurt them, but I needed to get their attention. When the big one pulled a gun, I shot close enough to him that he dropped it, but then he started toward me. That’s when Paul grabbed the shotgun.” Talking about it seemed to escalate her anger rather than control it. She took a deep breath. “They finally took cover under the table just before you and Beau got here.”
“Do you know them?”
“I’ve never seen them before. Probably riding through—at least I hope that’s their plan.”
Gabe leaned over, giving Lena a kiss, then pushed away from the bar. “If not, it will be their plan now.”
Alison walked into the boardinghouse dining room on Saturday, coming to a stop when she spotted the table filled with women. She’d met three—Abigail, Rachel, and Ginny. The other three were strangers. Straightening her shoulders, she took a deep breath and started forward, fidgeting with the drawstring of her reticule as she walked.
“Alison, we’re so glad you could join us.” Abby turned to the others. “Everyone, this is Alison Burns. She bought the millinery and seamstress shop next to the bank. Alison, this is Isabella Boucher, Caroline Iverson, and Magdalena Evans.”
“Please, call me Lena,” Magdalena said, offering a warm smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you can call me Caro.” Caroline offered Alison a warm smile.
Alison nodded, forcing her own smile as she took a seat next to Abby.
“We were just getting the story on what happened at the Dixie yesterday.” Rachel glanced at Lena. “So you grabbed your gun, then what?”
Alison’s eyes widened at the question.
“It really wasn’t as bad as it sounds.” Lena took a sip of her coffee, glancing over the rim at Alison, noting her discomfort. “Three men acted inappropriately toward one of the new girls, and I set them straight. That’s all.”
“That’s all? From what Beau said, you took on the three men and they hid under a table.” Caro looked at Alison. “Did you hear the commotion?”
“When I heard the gunshots, I stayed put. Where I come from, we had so many raiders come through town that we knew to stay inside when we heard shots. What happened to the men?”
“Gabe and Beau arrived and broke it up. Beau took them to the jail while Gabe stayed with me.” Lena grinned, her face flushing pink. “He’s so protective.”
“Gabe Evans is your husband, right?” Alison asked, trying to recall what she’d heard about the various women.
“Yes, he is.”
“You’ll figure it all out, but a short version is Noah Brandt is my husband,” Abby explained. “Rachel is married to Dax Pelletier, and Ginny is married to his brother, Luke.”
“Isabella and I are widows,” Caro added. She shifted toward Isabella, touching her arm.
“What she isn’t saying is that each has a suitor.” Ginny laughed at the surprised look on each woman’s face. “You thought we didn’t know about Travis and Beau?”
Caro cleared her throat. “Beau Davis is a wonderful man whom I’m prou
d to call a friend. There is nothing more between us.”
“Uh-huh. Is that also true for you and Travis, Isabella?” Ginny asked.
“Yes, it is. He’s been there for me during some rough times and I value his friendship.” She shrugged. “He’s a southern gentleman. As you all know, he’s still dealing with the loss of his wife and daughter during the war.” Isabella looked at Alison. “Travis works for Dax and Luke Pelletier.”
“And he’s one of our best men,” Rachel added, wanting to change the subject. “So, tell us, Alison. Why did you pick Splendor?”
Alison’s hands stilled at the question, her mind racing to form a response.
“It’s simple. My mother didn’t cope well with the death of my father. She became more and more withdrawn each year. Last summer, she took sick. The doctor said her heart gave out.” Alison winced at the lie, knowing her mother might never recover from Bobby’s death, but still lived on their Kentucky farm. “My husband was killed in the war.” She bit her lower lip at the second lie in less than a minute, hoping they didn’t question her further on her non-existent marriage. Before making the trip west, she’d made the decision to present herself as a widow without family. “I couldn’t take care of the farm alone. A local family made an offer about the time I saw the ad Mr. Clausen placed in the newspaper. There was nothing keeping me in Kentucky, so…” Her voice trailed off as an image of the farm took hold.
“And here you are.” Ginny leaned forward, the corners of her mouth tilting upward. “I came in a wagon train with my younger sister. Our parents died on the journey and we had no funds to go further. Rachel came west to join her uncle in his clinic. Lena traveled here from back east to join her business partner.”
“I came here after my husband died,” Isabella added, surprising the other women by discussing her past. “I’ve known Lena since we were children. This seemed like the best place to be as I have no other family.”
“It’s the only place you should be.” Lena wrapped an arm around Isabella’s shoulders and squeezed.
“Where did you come from, Caro?” Alison asked.
“I grew up in New York. Gabe and I have known each other for years. When my husband died, I decided to break away from the suffocating attention of my family and travel west. As luck would have it, I encountered Gabe in Big Pine, where he had business. He encouraged me to come to Splendor.”
“Are you glad you listened to him?” Alison leaned forward. She hadn’t expected to like any of these women, yet the more they shared, the more she felt guilty about her true reasons for being in Splendor.
“Oh yes. This is a wonderful town with some of the most delightful people I’ve ever known. I hope you feel the same after you’ve been here a while.”
Alison glanced at the other women, knowing she’d never truly fit in and would most definitely not be staying. “Perhaps I will, Caro. You never know what life has planned, do you?”
~~~~~
Chapter Two
Little Rock, Arkansas
April 1868
Cash Coulter paced back and forth in the small study at the home of his friend, Stephen Ramsey, hands on his hips as he thought about the situation. “It’s obvious someone close to you is feeding the rustlers information. One of your men, or…” His voice trailed off, not liking the direction his thoughts were taking him.
“Or who?” Stephen turned from where he leaned against a window frame, looking out at the charred barn. Another reminder of the attacks he’d experienced over the last several months.
He’d fought off pitying looks, denials of work, and those who sought to take advantage of a man they considered a cripple since losing a leg at the Battle of Atlanta. Through it all, he’d married Helen, his childhood sweetheart, moved his growing family to Arkansas, and found contentment raising cattle and tending their farm. A few months ago, raiders began targeting his land, feeling secure a man such as him couldn’t resist their attacks. It had taken Helen’s prodding before he relented and contacted his old friend, requesting the help Cash had offered in those last moments before Stephen’s service to the Confederacy ended.
Cash shoved his hands in his pockets, not wanting to voice the suspicions rooted in his gut.
“Are you going to tell me what’s eating at you, Captain, or make me guess?”
Shaking his head, Cash stepped beside Stephen, clasping him on the shoulder. “I haven’t been your captain for a long time. Just a friend.”
The corners of his lips twitched. “Fine. As my friend, tell me who you think is behind the rustling.”
“Who is the one person who’d like to see you fail?”
Stephen’s face went slack as the implication of Cash’s words sank in. Casting his gaze down to his missing leg, he fisted both hands.
He’d always been strong and determined to succeed. The loss of a leg and only partial use of his left arm didn’t stop him from marrying the girl he’d loved since they were children, chasing each other around the schoolyard. His parents loved Helen. Her father tolerated Stephen, not hiding the fact he believed his daughter could do much better than the son of a poor dirt farmer.
Returning from battle as a cripple intensified the man’s objections to Stephen wedding his only daughter. Nevertheless, the marriage happened, followed by one son and a life as far away from Helen’s father as she’d allow.
“He’s still in Tennessee. Never made a single attempt to visit Helen or his grandson. I can’t imagine why he’d care after all this time.”
Cash crossed his arms, leaning against the desk. “You can’t? What of her grandmother’s will?”
Stephen’s face twisted in disgust as he pushed away from the wall. “Helen doesn’t get the inheritance for four more years when she turns twenty-six. I’ve already told her I don’t want any part of it. The money will be in her name to do with as she wants.”
“I’ve been here almost a month. It’s a small house, hard to ignore even private conversations. Helen’s made no secret of her desire to be closer to her father now that her mother is dead. Maybe he’s trying to make her wish a reality.” Cash watched emotions play across Stephen’s face, hating the pain he saw. “Think about it. The rustlers tend to scatter your herd rather than take them. The one time we ran across the gang, they shot over our heads. No one is as bad a shot as those men. The fires have all been set away from the house, causing little damage. And they’ve hit no other ranches. Maybe they don’t want to harm you, but are just sending you a message—trying to frighten you into leaving.”
“Sending me a message?”
“That’s what my gut is telling me.”
Stephen’s breathing became labored as he absorbed Cash’s words. He didn’t believe Helen would be involved. The same belief didn’t hold true for her father. If she’d written him, indicated how much she missed him, his father-in-law might take action, hiring thugs to intimidate Stephen into selling. He rubbed his eyes, feeling tired and beaten down.
“The only way to know for sure is to capture one of the men and make him talk,” Cash continued. “At some point, you, Helen, or someone else will be a victim, whether intentional or not. I can track them and bring one back.” He’d been a bounty hunter after the war, then became a deputy in Splendor, Montana. His tracking skills were sought after by lawmen and business owners who needed those services.
“You make it sound so easy.”
“Trust me. Those men won’t be hard to find. I’ll leave after supper.” Cash walked toward the door, turning at Stephen’s response.
“No. If that’s what is needed, we both go. This is my problem. I won’t let you ride out alone.”
“Son of a…” Stephen cursed when Cash pointed out the fire in a canyon not far from the ranch. He counted five men. “How did you know where to find them?”
“Their tracks were easy to follow. My guess is they move their camp after each raid.” Cash’s gaze followed one man in particular. He seemed to keep his distance from the others sitting around
the fire playing cards and joking. Even when he settled near the campfire, he planted himself away from the rest of the gang. “The one closest to the horses is who we want.”
“Why him?” Stephen turned toward Cash, his brows raised.
“He appears to be a loner. They may not notice him missing as soon as someone else.” Cash thought a moment, his eyes focused on his target. “It may be hard to break him, though.” His experience told him the quiet ones who kept to themselves were often the most difficult to crack. They had an internal pride, some private code which secured their silence.
Stephen nodded, understanding. They’d do what needed to be done in order to obtain the information they wanted, even if it meant extracting a little blood.
“You get some sleep, Stephen. I’ll wake you after they’ve all bunked down. We’ll make our move then.”
Cash took a position so he could keep watch on the camp and the surrounding area. He watched his friend lower himself onto the ground, Stephen’s right leg supporting his weight as he shifted on the wooden prosthesis he wore on his left. The hinged knee and ankle allowed him more stability when riding, but Cash knew the contraption slowed him down when performing many normal activities. Stephen preferred his crutch most of the time.
Observing how he struggled, Cash made a decision, knowing Stephen wouldn’t like it. Then again, he wouldn’t like many of the decisions Cash had made since the war.
If Stephen truly understood the man Cash had become, he wouldn’t want him anywhere near his wife and son. The man Stephen knew during the war hadn’t drawn a clean breath since the Battle of Atlanta. He’d been replaced by someone Cash seldom recognized. A darker, somber, damaged version of the man he’d been before all the battles, endless carnage, broken souls, and twisted humanity that greeted him each morning.
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