Under a Falling Star

by Caroline Fyffe

  Also by Caroline Fyffe

  Prairie Hearts Novels

  Logan Meadows, Wyoming Territory, 1878

  Where the Wind Blows

  Before the Larkspur Blooms

  West Winds of Wyoming

  Under a Falling Star

  The McCutcheon Family Series

  Y Knot, Montana Territory, 1883

  Montana Dawn

  Texas Twilight

  Mail-Order Brides of the West: Evie

  Mail-Order Brides of the West: Heather

  Moon Over Montana

  Mail-Order Brides of the West: Kathryn

  Montana Snowfall

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2015 Caroline Fyffe

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781503951044

  ISBN-10: 1503951049

  Cover design by Anna Curtis

  Dedicated to my darling daughter-in-law, Misti Chanel, who has filled our lives with love, happiness, and joy.

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PROLOGUE

  Union Pacific Rail Lines, Wyoming Territory, April 1883

  Dalton Babcock lifted his .45 Colt from its holster and checked the chambers. As always, his weapon was loaded and ready, as was the gun that rested heavily on his other hip. Two loaded shotguns hidden on a bunk in the musty train car were extra insurance and within easy reach.

  In three hours, the Union Pacific was due to stop at the Logan Meadows depot to take on water and exchange a few passengers. From there it would continue on to Seattle and then San Francisco, stopping at a dozen small, nondescript towns along the way. His journey was halfway complete.

  Gazing out the small two-by-two window, Dalton took a deep breath and held the stale air in his lungs. The rough terrain, with the endless pines and large granite outcrops of rock whisking by outside, made a stark contrast to the three locked boxes behind him, filled with freshly printed one-hundred-dollar bills, said to total over a million dollars.

  Thump, thump, thump. The knock at the door was right on schedule.

  Grasping the heavy steel-enforced window guard, Dalton closed it, then threw the lock. He went to the door at the front of the car. “Yeah?”

  “It’s Evan, come to relieve you.”

  Dalton recognized his coworker’s gravelly voice. “Echo, Echo . . .”

  “. . . river black,” came the coded reply.

  Each day of the week, the color of the code changed, in an effort to keep the First Bank of Denver’s assets safe until they arrived in San Francisco. One million dollars was enticing to outlaws and law-abiding citizens alike. The guards had been instructed to protect the cargo at all costs.

  Dalton unbolted the lock, and then lifted the bar. Evan slid inside as Dalton stepped onto the small platform between the connected cars, the rush of cool air brisk. The door was not to remain unlocked for more than a few seconds.

  “Get some grub and hot coffee,” Evan said. “Once we reach Logan Meadows I’ll need both you and Pat”—he gestured toward the roof, where the third guard patrolled—“on high alert.”

  “On my way.”

  The door banged closed.

  Dalton passed through the cattle cars, watching where he stepped, then through the luggage and cargo cars, the chugging of the train now so commonplace it went unnoticed. Once in the passenger cars he nodded to anyone who looked his way. Taking a seat at a table in the dining car, he put in an order and waited for his fare. Twenty minutes and three cups of coffee later, he felt the urgency within that always unsettled him right before a scheduled stop. He’d return to the money car and take his position on the outside landing.

  Picking up the pencil, he signed the tag for his employer to pay, then stood at the exact moment a forceful jolt rocked the train, knocking him off his feet.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Logan Meadows, Wyoming Territory, April 1883

  Susanna Robinson glanced around the newly constructed community hall, satisfaction warming her deep inside. Once construction had begun, the log cabin–style edifice had gone up in a month. It had several smaller rooms, as well as a kitchen. A stairway on the west side of the great room led to a narrow upper tier that ran the length of the building, allowing a person to watch the festivities from above.

  A darn sight better than the large gray barn! As the caterer for the much-anticipated wedding of Brenna Lane to the town’s schoolteacher, Greg Hutton, the Silky Hen Restaurant was responsible for today’s shindig. The groom’s family had ventured all the way from Pennsylvania, and everyone wanted Logan Meadows to make a good impression.

  Susanna sighed and rolled her tired shoulders. She’d taken ten minutes to slip on an apron, freshly starched and ironed thanks to Tap Ling’s laundry service. She ran a hand over her hair to make sure no wayward tendril had escaped. The bride and groom, as well as most of the town, would arrive any minute. Candles and lanterns amplified the late-afternoon light, glowing beautifully atop the long table covered in snowy-white cloth. Platters of seasoned beef, pork, and chicken, as well as an array of salads, would tempt the choosiest of eaters. Freshly baked rolls abounded by the basketfuls. At the end of the table, the decorated cake added the finishing touch.

  Mrs. Hollyhock’s quilting fairies had made white fabric flowers, which looked so real one was tempted to reach out and touch them, as well as streamers and doodads, which had transformed the open log room into something magical from a storybook. This would be a wedding to remember.
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  Susanna’s boss, Hannah Donovan, breezed into the room followed by Tabitha Canterbury, Hannah’s older cousin who’d arrived in Logan Meadows last November. Miss Canterbury, in her late twenties, had managed to persuade Frank Lloyd, her uncle and the bank’s owner, to give her a loan to open a bookstore on Main Street—as if the task were no riskier than baking a cake. Susanna admired the business-minded, unmarried woman very much. As regally as a queen, Tabitha carried a tray filled with coffee cups and headed for the kitchen.

  Hannah glanced around, nodding her approval. “The room is gorgeous, Susanna! Brenna won’t believe her eyes when she steps inside—which should be in about five minutes. The ceremony was lovely. I’m still all aflutter.” A dreamy expression crossed her face, making Susanna smile. “Church was just letting out when Tabitha and I snuck out to fetch the last tray of coffee cups at the Silky Hen. Is there anything else I need to do?”

  Susanna placed a calming hand on Hannah’s arm. “Yes. Take a deep breath and relax. Everything is ready. Daisy ran home to clean up and will be back any second.”

  Hannah exhaled a long sigh of contentment. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You’re more my right hand than this,” she said, holding up her right hand. Susanna’s boss smiled, then hurried away.

  Would she ever be a bride? Susanna wondered with a smidgeon of uncertainty. I’m only twenty-five, not yet a true spinster. Since her arrival over two years ago, Albert Preston, the sheriff of Logan Meadows, was never far from her side. He took lunch daily at the restaurant where she worked, and sought her out more often than not for walks after Sunday service. She held their friendship close to her heart. It was the most special thing in her life. If she let herself, she would fall headfirst into his expressive dark eyes. And his laughter—he knew each and every way to make her smile, and did so often. But Susanna needed to play it safe. She’d rather have him as a dear friend than a used-to-be who needed to be avoided.

  The sad truth was, nothing lasted forever. At least not in her family. If she never let them get started, then they’d never come to an end. Even if Albert might think he was in love with her now, the feeling wouldn’t last. No, as much as she longed to be a wife, her fear of what might come after the vows was too much to contemplate. A cooling of their love, resentment, Albert walking out the door. Because of that, each time his tone turned serious, and she thought he might be veering toward a deeper relationship, she steered him to a safer subject, like the new people in town, what so-and-so was planting this year, how the weather had turned.

  Besides all that, there was no easy way to tell him about her mother. Being a lawman, surely he’d think less of Susanna if he knew they had survived on the money men left behind after a visit to their house. Her mother always sent Susanna away when a suitor came to call, but it wasn’t long before she understood the whispers the other children hid behind their hands.

  Did Albert care for her? She believed he did—and deeply, if she indulged her imagination. He’d never kissed her, despite what her girlfriends thought. He’d been a perfect gentleman from day one. When she began to daydream of what might be, she reminded herself that his respectful actions extended to all the women he came into contact with.

  Daisy Smith, Hannah’s other employee, dashed through the door. In her black skirt, white high-collared blouse, and devoid of any eyeliner or lip color, she presented such a demure appearance that one would never guess she used to be a saloon girl at the Bright Nugget. “Here they come!” she called in an excited voice. “They’re parking the buggies. Everyone to their stations!”

  Susanna plastered on a smile and hurried to the front door where she’d collect shawls from the ladies and hats from the men. She had a job to do—and it didn’t involve mooning over Albert Preston.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Albert Preston leaned his shoulder against the substantial hearth of the fireplace in the large log room and smiled as the wedding guests on the dance floor twirled past. He took a sip from his cup of bourbon-laced punch and swallowed, enjoying the view Susanna presented as she and the other woman cleared away the serving platters from the buffet table. Dinner had come and gone, and wine, as well as this tasty punch, had been served. The band—two fiddles and a guitar—filled the room with music.

  Chase Logan, local rancher, lounged by his side. He gave a deep sigh and rubbed his stomach. “That was a darn good meal. I especially liked the braised sirloin tips.”

  Charlie Axelrose, standing next to Chase, laughed, then swilled down what was left in his cup. The newcomer who’d arrived in Logan Meadows last year looking for a safe place for his blind daughter smacked his lips. “That’s because you supplied the beef, Chase. Modesty becomes you.”

  Chase looked at him askance. “Maybe. But Jessie and I thought it a suitable wedding gift for the new schoolteacher and his lovely bride. A party like this costs a pretty penny. Since we have cattle coming out our ears, we were happy to oblige.”

  Albert watched Charlie’s gaze as it drifted around the room until it found Nell. He hid his smile at the newlywed’s look of longing. Charlie and Nell had only been married a few months and worked side by side on their ranch.

  “Why don’t you go ask her to dance, Charlie?” Albert reached across Chase and nudged Charlie’s shoulder. “Don’t be shy. It’d be better than you standing here with that hangdog look on your face.”

  “She’s busy with things.”

  Well, when Susanna was finished with her task, Albert intended to steal a dance or two, no matter how much she protested that her responsibilities came first. She looked exceptionally pretty in her soft indigo-colored dress, the wide sash accentuating her narrow waist and the color making her green eyes look blue. She was a beauty. His beauty.

  Well, not yet, his conscience corrected—but soon, if all went as planned. There it was, that frustrating “if” that was always ready to dash his hopes. She would be his girl, he corrected. As soon as he was free to ask for her hand. Lucky for him, she didn’t seem in any rush to make things official. Every time he’d mustered up enough courage to tell her about Floria, and the divorce he’d been trying to obtain, she’d diverted the conversation elsewhere. He wanted to rid his conscience of the burden it carried, and begin again with his past out in the open, as he should have from the start.

  A surge of sadness rippled through Albert as it always did when he thought about the past. He hadn’t intended for his marriage to last a mere two months, but overlooking Floria’s dishonesty would have taken a better man than he was. He’d been duped, and badly. Blindsided by her beauty, and enticed by her charms, he’d proposed after only a week, unaware that was exactly what she had planned to get back at the man who’d jilted her.

  Thankfully, his latest correspondence from his brother Corey, two months ago, had him optimistic. She’d agreed to go forward with the divorce. Corey would see that it was done and then forward the legal papers on to him, being his family home was only a few hours’ ride from where Floria lived in Iowa. His brother Winthrop was the only one in Logan Meadows who knew his history. Keeping it from his friends hadn’t been difficult. His shameful situation was his alone to shoulder. People had pasts. They came west to start anew—just as he had.

  Albert had been watching impatiently for the papers for a good month, and was sure they’d arrive any day. Just as soon as he had them in his hands, and was sure Floria was not going to go back on her word once again, he’d have a heart-to-heart with Susanna. She was the only one he felt obligated to tell. Then it would be up to her if she could live with a man who’d kept such a secret from her for so long. A hopeful smile played around his mouth. She would. He felt sure of it. She was the most understanding woman he’d ever met. They were well suited.

  He smiled when Susanna looked his way, a rush of warmth chasing away his gloomy thoughts. She had a way of lighting up a room. A man could only stand so much. He’d been patient long enough and needed to feel her in his arms. Just as soon as this song ended, he’d cross
the room and collect on the dances she’d promised him last night.

  Thom Donovan walked up to the group. “So this is where all the men are. I was beginning to think you’d gone home.”

  Albert gave his deputy a look of mock outrage, and then grinned. “Home before cake? That would be sacrilege. Besides, I like my spot by the fire just fine. As sheriff, my job is to keep watch on the townspeople, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

  “We built this area with the men in mind,” Chase added. “While the women like to visit and dance, we have ample room to sit back, smoke, and watch if we choose to.”

  Thom elbowed a place in between them. “Make room for one more. Mrs. Hollyhock keeps givin’ me the eye,” he said under his breath. “She’s bound to ask me for a dance sooner or later. Just shy of eighty-seven, and she still has an eye for the men.”

  The bride and groom whirled by on the outside of the dancers, the melody of the waltz making Albert weave from foot to foot. Brenna’s soft rose-colored gown looked sweet. Susanna had been especially excited about the garment, saying Mrs. Hollyhock and her friends had done a beautiful job, blindfolding Brenna for each fitting to keep the end result a surprise.

  A loud crack sounded, and everyone turned to see what had caused the interruption. The music stopped.

  Win, Albert’s brother, had busted through the double doors of the community hall. His mouth gaped open as he struggled for breath, and the cranberry red of his face emphasized his fear-filled eyes.

  “The Union Pacific has collided with a rockslide! People are hurt! We need every able-bodied man and woman to bring wagons and buggies to Three Pines Turn.”

  Albert headed immediately for the door. Three Pines Turn was about a half mile before the Logan Meadows depot.

  Dr. Thorn followed in his footsteps. “Bring the worst to my office!” he hollered.

  Albert stopped and glanced around. “Everyone else who needs tending, bring up here. Those of you who have cots, mats, extra blankets, or anything else that can be used as a bed, send somebody for them. And be quick about it. People may be dying.”