Badlands

by Melissa Lenhardt

  James wept openly, and I saw him as he truly was for the first time: a weak, pathetic man.

  “Tell me!”

  “Sheridan! Sheridan killed him. I walked in and found him standing over George with the fireplace poker. It was his idea to use you as the scapegoat.”

  “You just went along with it,” I said.

  “He promised me so much.”

  “His daughter.”

  “No.” James shook his head. “That happened later. It’s real.”

  The closet door creaked open and Bertram Langton stepped forward. I pulled the gun away from James’s head and his placating, begging expression morphed to one of confusion, then into anger. He turned to me. “You bitch. You set—”

  I grabbed the gun by the barrel and swung the handle against his temple. James’s head jerked around and slammed against the wall. He slumped onto the bed, unconscious.

  “Thank you,” Bertram Langton said. “I always knew Kline was a lizard but had no idea the depth of his sneakiness.”

  Kindle and Camille walked into the room. Camille took in James’s unconscious form and her astonished gaze landed on me. “Remind me never to cross you.”

  I grinned.

  “Goddamn, you’re a fine woman, Laura Kindle,” Kindle said.

  “Thank you,” I said, though my knees were shaking.

  Langton turned to me. “Dr. Bennett.” He swallowed thickly. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll make sure the charges will be dropped against her,” Kindle said. He put his arm around my waist and I leaned into him to keep from collapsing.

  “Kindle and I heard everything through the door, in case you try to change the story,” Camille said.

  Langton looked taken aback. “I would never. It will be in the afternoon papers.”

  Hazel and Henry pushed their way into the already crowded room.

  “Were we right? Was it Sheridan?” Hazel said.

  “Yes,” I said.

  Langton looked slightly alarmed at the number of people.

  “Yes, Mr. Langton, we all know and we will all make sure you hold to your promise of clearing Laura’s name,” Hazel said.

  “Who’s Laura?”

  I raised my hand. “Me. Laura Kindle.” Kindle pulled me closer and squeezed my waist. “Clear Catherine Bennett’s name so Laura Kindle can live in peace with her husband.”

  James groaned from the bed.

  “Want my boys to take him somewhere and teach him a lesson?” Camille asked.

  “No,” I said. “I want him to go to the police.”

  “I’ll take him,” Langton said. “If your men can take him downstairs to my carriage, Miss King?”

  “Will do.” Camille left. Hazel and Henry followed.

  Langton lingered for a moment, as if unsure what to do or say. Finally, he said, “When everything settles down, let’s discuss your idea for an indigent hospital.”

  “Thank you.”

  Langton nodded and left. Camille’s men came in, took James by the arms, and dragged him out of the room.

  I collapsed into Kindle’s arms, sobbing and laughing at the same time. “It’s over.”

  “It’s over.” He stroked my hair. “I thought you were going to kill him.”

  I pointed the gun to the ceiling and pulled the trigger. Kindle flinched but was greeted with the sound of the small click of the hammer hitting an empty chamber. “No more death.”

  “No more death.” Kindle smiled down on me. “What do we do now?”

  The tension and fear I’d been living with for a year evaporated into the silent room, leaving a cautious peace in its place. I wouldn’t feel truly free until the world knew the truth, but it was a start. A new world unfurled before me, full of color, life, love, and possibilities.

  I laughed and threw open my arms. “Whatever we want.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  It’s difficult to believe it’s been over eight years since Laura and Kindle walked into my life. When the idea started forming, I could hardly imagine it was my first step on the path to publication. This was the story that wouldn’t go away, that I kept putting aside and coming back to, the story I choose to finish first (I had a tendency to be distracted by new ideas), the one manuscript that I wanted to see published more than any other.

  Now here we are, nearly a decade later, and my germ of an idea has evolved into a three-hundred-thousand-word trilogy, with the assistance of almost too many friends, family members, writers, and editors to name. But I’ll give it a go.

  I absolutely would not be writing these acknowledgments today if it weren’t for my cousin and mentor, Kenneth Mark Hoover. He was the first person to tell me I had talent and potential. He held my hand and led me through all the stages of my development as a writer. He listened to all of my harebrained story concepts, encouraged me, critiqued me, and, most importantly, believed in me when I was ready to give up. He is my first reader and his insight always, always, makes my stories better.

  Writing a good book is only the first step in the process. Having an advocate for your work is paramount and I was lucky enough to sign with my agent, Alice Speilburg, who has never wavered in her belief in my work. I always thought I was pretty even-keeled until I met Alice and saw calm, unflappable professionalism in practice. The day I met Alice changed my life, for the better in every way.

  After five years of writing, I assumed I knew my characters inside and out. That is, until Kendel Lynn read a draft and pointed out a missed opportunity so glaringly obvious, I was a little ashamed. Her suggestion elevated a critical scene from good to great, and I believe that small but consequential change is what sold the book. Becoming friends with Kendel has been the best unexpected perk of my publishing journey so far.

  More than anyone, I have Susan Barnes to thank for Sawbones being the book that it is, and for the tone of the series as a whole. When she read Sawbones she didn’t balk at the grit and the gore. She loved it. She understood from the beginning what I was trying to do, how I wanted to peel back the mythology and show the brutality beneath, and she never flinched. She encouraged it, and her editorial insight helped me deepen my writing, my characters, and the story.

  Change is inevitable, and editors move on. I thank God every day Lindsey Hall inherited Laura and Kindle’s story. I have so many feels I don’t know where to start. Her brilliant editorial eye is almost overshadowed by her enthusiasm, compassion, and ability to know just the right thing to say to save me from spiraling down a well of stress. Or at least spiraling too far down. She’s not Wonder Woman, but she’s close. You’re going to be a tough act to follow, Lindsey, and I know you have a long and glorious future ahead of you.

  There are dozens of people working at Redhook who have had a hand in getting this trilogy to readers. I want to thank each and every one of you for all your hard work and dedication. Special thanks goes to my publicist, Ellen Wright; copy editor, Amy Schneider; production editors, Gleni Bartels and Andromeda Macri; and graphic artists, Crystal Ben and Wendy Chen.

  Where to start with my DFW Writers’ Workshop peeps? I’ve made so many wonderful friends and have grown not only as a writer but also as a critique partner and, I hope, as a mentor to other writers starting out. Wednesday nights are my favorite part of the week.

  There are highs and lows in every journey, and the publishing journey is no different. Special thanks to Brooke Fossey, Jenny Martin, and Jennifer Mason-Black for being reliable sounding boards and shoulders to cry on, and always offering the perfect piece of advice.

  Thanks to Larry Brown at the Wyoming State Archives for answering my questions about Cheyenne in the 1870s.

  Finally, thanks to my friends and family for your never-ending love and support.

  MEET THE AUTHOR

  Photo Credit: Amy Freshwater

  MELISSA LENHARDT is president of directors for the North Dallas chapter of Sisters in Crime, as well as a member of the DFW Writers’ Workshop. She lives in Texas with her husb
and and two sons.

  INTERVIEW

  Have you always wanted to be a writer? When did you start writing?

  I wish I’d always wanted to be a writer. I was one of those kids who had no clue what they wanted to do with their lives. As a result, I ended up in an ill-fitting, postcollege job managing restaurants. I started writing a couple of years after becoming a stay-at-home mom to stave off boredom. One of the greatest fears of being a stay-at-home mom is not being able to go back into the workforce when your kids become self-sufficient, or when they leave the nest. I’m incredibly lucky to have found a second career where age doesn’t matter, and one I actually want to work at for the rest of my life.

  Who are some of your biggest influences?

  Every book I’ve ever read. I don’t have one writer, or even a few writers, who have influenced me more than others. I read across genres and think that keeps me from falling into genre tropes too terribly often. Authors whose works have made me want to be a better writer, or have changed my life in some way? That’s a long list: Jane Austen, Elizabeth Gaskell, Edith Wharton, Anita Shreve, Larry McMurtry, J. K. Rowling, Carlos Ruiz Zafon, Martin Cruz Smith, Anne Brontë, Anne Perry, Sandra Dallas, Margaret Atwood, Danielle Steel, Stephen King, Eric Larson, Stephen Ambrose, Georgette Heyer, Jacqueline Winspear, Mary Doria Russell, Rainbow Rowell … I could go on and on.

  How did the characters Laura and Kindle come to you?

  Neither walked into my head fully formed. I wanted a strong, independent woman as my main character, and as I researched the Civil War era I came across two interesting tidbits: stories of women dressing up like men to serve in the war, and of handsome women being turned away from nursing at the beginning of the war because it was believed they would distract the wounded from healing. I knew immediately my main character would have gone to any lengths to help the Union cause, and I also knew she was arrogant enough to believe she could do a man’s job as well or better. When I discovered sisters Elizabeth and Emily Blackwell, two of the first women to earn medical degrees in the United States, and other trailblazing female doctors, many of whom were inspired by their nursing work in the war, Laura waved to me and said, “Really, Melissa. What took you so long?”

  With Kindle, I needed a dashing cavalry officer to come on the scene and appear to be the requisite white knight, so I could flip the script and have Laura save him. One of the greatest challenges in writing historical fiction is keeping the characters’ opinions, beliefs, and actions true to the time without alienating the reader. Working within the nineteenth-century prism, I needed Kindle to have great strength, and enough humility and vulnerability to admire Laura for her intelligence, determination, and arrogance, instead of being threatened by her. Since Sawbones was completely from Laura’s point of view, we saw Kindle as she saw him, which was a tiny bit idealized, as is wont to happen when you’re in the first throes of love. So it was a great relief when I was breaking the story for Blood Oath that I realized Kindle had a dark side, and an interesting, complicated past. I never liked the character more than when he was making mistakes, and struggling with how his past actions adversely affected Laura. Yes, I’m a little bit in love with Kindle. Why do you ask?

  Fun fact about how the characters got their names: when I started writing Sawbones, my favorite TV show, Battlestar Galactica, was in its final season. My two favorite characters were Laura Roslin and William Adama. The very, very first thought I had about this story was: “What if Roslin and Adama were dropped into the Old West?” And here we are, nearly a decade later.

  This series isn’t quite like anything else out there. What inspired you to write this type of book?

  I read Larry McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove and was searching for another Western to read. Everything I picked up was either a male-centric perpetuation of the Hollywood mythology of the West or a straight-up romance. The West wasn’t settled only by men, and there’s more to women’s lives than finding a man. I set out to write a book from a woman’s point of view that wasn’t afraid to show the West in all its contradictions—brutal and beautiful, corrupt and honorable, built on lies by honest, hardworking dreamers—with a love story that didn’t solve the characters’ problems but ended up complicating and enriching their lives in equal measure.

  What kind of research did you do for the series, and what is your writing process like?

  Having an unlimited amount of time to write Sawbones meant I could read voraciously about the time period, and I did. It’s still my preferred mode of research. I read books, and study their bibliographies for further reading, which I also do on Wikipedia. Wikipedia gets a bad rap, but if you go into it with a critical eye, and know how to drill down into the notes and follow the sources, it can be a good starting point. I also find the websites for state historical societies, Texas State Historical Society, Wyoming State Archives, and so on, to be a wealth of information. And now, I’m going to confess my deepest, dorkiest research dream: to research at the Library of Congress. It’s so intimidating; I get sweaty palms thinking about it, but one day I’ll drum up the courage. I know me; I’ll have to dedicate a month to it because of the many rabbit holes I’ll fall down in the LIBRARY OF CONGRESS!

  I suspect that writing a series is much different from writing a stand-alone novel. How did your writing process and author experience differ from book to book?

  It took me five years of fits and starts to finish Sawbones. I had months, years, to test out different story lines, structures, tones, and so on, until I finally found the true story. I had a six-month deadline for Blood Oath and a nine-month deadline for Badlands. I didn’t have the luxury of trying different things out or even writing a terrible first draft. I had to focus my thoughts, ideas, and writing in a way I never had to before. It was the best thing that’s ever happened to me, developmentally. Not only did it prove to me I can write under that kind of pressure, it proved to me my writing can be as good, maybe better, with fear of failure on a slow burn beneath my office chair. However, now that I’ve proven I can write like that, I’m not eager to repeat the experience.

  Did you have a plan for the series when you first set out to write Sawbones? If so, how did that plan change by the time you got to Badlands?

  The idea to turn it into a series came when my agent said, “The publisher wants to know if this is a series,” and I said, “Of course it’s a series!” Which meant I needed a plot for two books when I hadn’t considered what happened next for Laura and Kindle besides “they ride off in the sunset and have adventures.” I had to decide whether to jump forward in time and write connected books but not sequels per se, or to pick their story up right after the events of Sawbones and make all three novels one long character arc. My writing buddy said, “The easiest thing in the world to write is a chase novel,” which was better than any idea I’d come up with. Because I don’t tend to plot novels but jump right in and hope for the best, I had no idea where Blood Oath was going, other than across Indian Territory to Independence, Missouri. When I neared the end of Blood Oath, I realized two chase novels in a row would be boring. For the third book, I wanted to bring Laura full circle by giving her a taste of the life she originally envisioned when she set out for Colorado at the beginning of Sawbones, as well as wrap up the inciting incident that kicked off the trilogy.

  If you could spend an afternoon with one of your characters, which would it be and what would you do?

  Just one? Tough choice. Probably Camille or Rosemond. The stories they could tell.

  If you enjoyed Badlands,

  look out for the next adventure from Melissa Lenhardt!

  The woman stood motionless on the wooden boardwalk, staring into the milliner’s window at a quilted sugar-scoop bonnet. She thought it was, quite possibly, the ugliest hat she’d ever seen in her life. But sugar-scoop bonnets were made to be functional, not pretty, and this one would serve very well for the coming winter.

  “Excuse me, madam.”

  Two businessmen skirted around her
, lifting their hats as they passed, the scent of cigar smoke and hair oil wafting after them. She stepped closer to the window with a wan, polite smile at the men but kept her face mostly averted, hoping the dim silvery light from the early mountain sunset would mask her features. Her basket thumped against the window.

  Her gaze roamed up and down the street, which was filling up with people closing shop for the day and returning home to a roaring hearth and warm meal, a smoke for the men, sewing for the women, children playing quietly on rag rugs. They would talk about the light snow that had started as the sun dipped below the mountains and was dusting the woman’s shoulders as she stared into the reflection of the milliner’s windows. A man left the building behind her. Her breath fogged the air. Her frigid gloveless fingers clutched her heavy basket. A train whistle blew in the distance.

  A bell jingled and the milliner stepped out of his store. “Can I help you, madam?”

  “How much for the bonnet?”

  The man glanced at the item, the price clear from where he stood, and back at the woman. She knew what he saw, and was humiliated. “Five dollars.”

  The woman pretended to consider buying the bonnet and the man, kinder than he needed to be, went along with the ruse. “Thank you, but I’m afraid it’s too dear. Good evening.”

  She felt his eyes on her back as she walked down the main street and turned the first corner. Mud, thick and cold, oozed through the hole in her shoe. A wagon loaded with logs lumbered down the street. Tack jingled and wheels creaked as horses strained against the load and the foot-deep mud. The teamster urged them on with gentle but firm words, and slapped their backs with the reins. The teamster caught the woman’s eye and nodded an acknowledgment.