by Stacy Henrie
The Lady Has a Secret
No one would ever imagine a fresh-faced young woman could be robbing stage bandits of their ill-gotten fortunes. But Jennie Jones is desperate to save her family’s ranch from foreclosure. And the risks seem worth it, until her upright new ranch hand offers a glimpse of how much is really at stake.
Former bounty hunter Caleb Johnson is ready for a new, clean start. With a woman like Jennie, he could build a future there in Utah territory. But only if his gentle faith can guide her in a choice between the land she’s fought so hard to save and a future by his side.
Her left arm throbbed.
Jennie stared down at her bloody jacket and remembered the stage bandits shooting at her from the second-story room. The bullet grazing her arm. The escape. She had to get out of Fillmore—now.
Mounting a horse, she headed for the road. The steady movement of the horse beneath her and the unrelenting pain in her arm lolled Jennie into a state of semiwakefulness. Ahead of her, she could see the angry faces of the thieves she’d robbed.
Then another image rose unbidden. The handsome features she’d grown to know so well. Unlike the others, Caleb regarded her with tenderness. But too quickly his expression changed to one of pain and anger.
He doesn’t despise me now, but he will if he ever finds out what I’ve done. How would she explain her gunshot wound to Caleb and her family?
“Can’t I have the ranch and Caleb, too?” she asked the heavens. The rumble of distant thunder was her only reply.
STACY HENRIE
has always had an avid appetite for history, fiction and chocolate. As a youth, she enjoyed reading historical novels, dabbling in creative writing and poetry, visiting museums, exploring ghost towns and daydreaming about life in bygone eras. While she had a goal to write and publish a book one day, she turned her attentions first to graduating with a bachelor’s degree in public relations. Not long after, she switched from writing press releases and newsletters to writing inspirational historical fiction as a stay-at-home mom.
Stacy loves reading, interior decorating, romantic movies, her famous chocolate-chip cookies and, most of all, laughing with her family. She lives in central Utah with her husband and three kids, where she appreciates the chance to live out history through her characters, while enjoying all the modern conveniences of life in the 21st century.
Stacy Henrie
For I the Lord thy God will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, Fear not; I will help thee.
—Isaiah 41:13
To Peter
This story is as much ours as it is mine.
Thanks for never doubting.
Acknowledgments
First, foremost and always, thank you to my family—especially my husband who read the manuscript about as many times as I did, who gave me the time I needed to revise, and who never gave up on my dream, even when I wasn’t so sure myself.
Thank you to my mom and grandma for instilling in me a love of reading, and to my dad for passing on his interest in history and helping me with the idea for Jennie’s outlawing ways.
Thank you to my writer friends for their advice, encouragement, suggestions and laughter—especially Ali Cross, Elana Johnson, Jenn Wilks, Sara Olds, Becki Clayson and Rachel Nunes.
Thank you to the ladies in book club for their interest in my writing journey through the years. I hope this book gives you lots to talk about—after I leave the room.
Thank you to Jessica Alvarez for her vision and support, and to Elizabeth Mazer who loved the story as much as I did and was willing to give me a second chance.
A final thank-you to my Father in Heaven for guiding my path, giving me this gift and teaching me to trust. Thankfully we don’t always get what we want when we want it—typically the blessings are far greater than we could imagine when we least expect it.
Contents
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
Dear Reader
Questions for Discussion
Excerpt
Chapter One
Utah Territory—September 1869
“Regrettably, the answer is no, Miss Jones.”
The bank president’s apologetic tone might have fooled her, but Jennie caught a glint of satisfaction in Albert Dixon’s gray eyes that contradicted his sympathetic words.
“I’m sure things have been more difficult on the ranch since your father’s death, but you haven’t made a payment on your mortgage in over a year.” He cleared his throat. “That’s eighteen hundred dollars you already owe us. We’ll need to see five hundred of that before the end of the month, if you wish to keep your property. The full debt will be due next August—no exceptions.”
Jennie gripped the handle of her purse so hard her fingers hurt. No matter the sum, she wouldn’t give up the ranch. “And if I don’t have the money...”
Mr. Dixon dropped a glance at the sheet of paper before him, then slid the document across the desk. Jennie read the words written in bold, black ink at the top—Notice of Foreclosure.
“If you can’t produce the minimum amount, we’ll have to terminate the loan.” He shook his head and rose from his chair. “I wish there was more I could do. I’m deeply sorry.”
“I’m sure you are.” Jennie grabbed her small suitcase off the floor and came to her feet, eyeing him coldly. “But let me make something quite clear, Mr. Dixon. The only part of my father’s cattle ranch you’ll ever own is a steak dinner—and I hope it gives you a bad case of indigestion. Good day.”
The bank president’s round face and balding head turned a satisfying shade of red before Jennie headed for the door. She could hear him sputtering for a reply as she left the bank. She marched in the direction of the stage office, the heels of her boots stomping out a hard beat.
“I’d like to take a branding iron to that man,” she muttered under her breath as she wound her way along Fillmore’s storefronts.
She contemplated a number of other ways she might lower the bank president’s arrogance before her fury changed to despair. As her anger ebbed so did her determined pace and finally Jennie came to a stop at the corner of the general mercantile.
Where would she find five hundred dollars to keep her ranch? She’d barely scraped together enough cash to finance her trip to Fillmore. She had no relatives to borrow money from and couldn’t afford to sell any of their cattle, either. Since rustlers had cleaned them out of calves and half the herd in the spring, they had to keep every last cow in order to increase the number of cattle next year. Besides, what good is a cattle ranch with no cows?
A hat display in the window beside her caught Jennie’s eye. Latest Styles from the East, a handwritten sign below the hats read. She loved hats—her father had always bought her a new one on his trips to Fillmore. The one she wore today, with a rounded brim and green braiding that accentuated her red hair, was the last one he’d purchased for her. That had been a little over a year ago, just before her twentieth birthday. On that occasion, he’d bought her a brooch, as well.
Jennie’s fingers went to her throat, sliding over the simple but pretty cameo her father had said reminded him of
her. She could just picture him in the store, happily chatting with the clerk as he picked out gifts to bring home. She fought back the tears that sprang to her eyes at the image.
Squaring her shoulders, she stepped toward the mercantile. She couldn’t replace her father in so many ways, but at least she could look around for some small gift to bring home. The southbound stage wasn’t likely to leave for another thirty minutes or so, and she needed a diversion from her depressing thoughts. Despite her limited funds, she hoped to spare one or two coins to buy Grandma Jones and Will some candy or a penny trinket instead of bringing back only bad news.
* * *
Caleb looked up at the tinkling sound of the sleigh bells hanging from the mercantile’s doorknob and watched the young lady walk in. His time as a bounty hunter had honed his skills at taking the measure of a man—or woman—in a matter of moments, and it only took a glance for him to guess at the girl’s story.
The clothes, neat and clean but worn, made it clear that money was tight at home. But she held her head high, coffee-brown eyes sharp and keen, a nice contrast to her red hair. He read pride and determination in her posture and expression. Times might be tough, but clearly this lady wasn’t one to give up.
He’d had that kind of determination, once. After the death of his fiancée, he’d been filled with determination to find the bandits involved, and see them all brought to justice. But in the aftermath of the deadly confrontation a year ago, his determination had fled. All he wanted now was to earn enough money to start a small business of his own—something far different from the farm life he’d planned to share with Liza...and worlds away from the bounty hunting business he’d left behind too late.
He watched as the woman nodded to the store clerk, then headed toward the glass jars of brightly colored candies that sat on the long counter. He felt a moment’s idle curiosity wondering what she’d choose before his attention was snagged by the two men talking at the end of the counter.
“Somebody wired the sheriff and told him the bandits were headed south,” one of the men said. “He sent out nearly twenty men looking for ’em, but I think they must’ve slipped past.”
At the word bandits, Caleb found himself straightening up automatically, then he forced himself to relax. He was done with bounty hunting—those bandits were someone else’s responsibility now.
“When did they rob the stage?” the other asked.
“Yesterday afternoon. They met up with the coach about fifteen miles south of Nephi.”
“How much money did they steal?”
“Two thousand dollars.”
Two thousand dollars? Caleb was shocked...not just by the amount, but by the loud crash that followed the announcement. He glanced over to see that the young lady had accidentally struck one of the candy jars with her suitcase. The container had toppled off the counter and smashed on the floor, spraying glass and peppermint sticks around everyone’s feet. Caleb only caught a glimpse of her hotly embarrassed blush before she dropped to her knees and began picking up the candy with trembling hands.
Shaking hands and broken glass made for a dangerous combination so Caleb crouched down beside her to help. Reaching for one of the larger pieces of glass, his fingers almost brushed against hers. When she lifted her head to look at him, he was struck by just how pretty she was, with that fiery hair and warm brown eyes. Nothing like Liza, of course, Caleb thought to himself, heart twisting as it always did at the memory of Liza’s dark hair and sweet smile, but very pretty all the same. Especially when she blushed like that.
“You don’t have to help,” she murmured.
“I’d like to.” He slipped the glass from underneath her fingers and placed it to the side.
“No, that’s all right. I can clean up the mess myself.” Apparently he’d been right about the pride and determination. But he wasn’t going to let that stop him. He continued to gather up the broken shards, acting as if he hadn’t heard her. When the store clerk appeared with a broom, Caleb took hold of it and swept the glass into a pile while the young lady finished collecting the candy.
“I’m so sorry,” she said to the clerk as she stood. She set the peppermint sticks on the counter. “I don’t have enough to pay for the damage and purchase my ticket home, but...” She reached up to her collar, her hand covering the brooch pinned there. “Maybe I could trade—” Her fingers tightened over the piece of jewelry and Caleb could see that it hurt her to even think of giving it up. Maybe that was what prompted his next words.
“I’ll pay for the candy.” The hope of starting up a freighting business of his own had had Caleb saving every penny for the past year. As a result, he had plenty of cash on hand. The broken jar and candy shouldn’t put him back by more than a dollar or two. He could spare that well enough. Digging around in his pocket, he extracted some cash, along with the letter he’d come into town to mail—yet another attempt to mend fences with his disapproving family. “I’d like to mail this letter, too,” he said to the clerk. “So how much do I owe you?”
The girl shook her head. “I can’t let you do that. I’d want to repay you, and I can’t.”
“I think two dollars oughta cover it,” the store clerk said, seemingly in agreement with Caleb to ignore her protests.
Caleb handed over two bills along with his letter, then scooped up the candy. The clerk took the mail and money and returned to his post beside the cash register.
“You shouldn’t have done that—paid for the candy, I mean.” The lady frowned at Caleb as she collected her purse and suitcase. “I could have given him my brooch to make up the difference.”
Certain any mention of how obviously she’d wanted to keep the brooch would just upset her, Caleb tried a different tactic. “Probably so, but I can think of a way to repay me,” he said as he went to pick up another handful of peppermint sticks they’d missed near the door. When everything was gathered together, he turned to face her again.
“I can’t eat all of these by myself. How about taking a few off my hands?” He offered her a fistful of candy.
The absurdity of the whole situation made her smile, just as he’d hoped. “All right,” she said. “I’ll take some.”
She shifted her things to one arm and took the candy from him.
“I hope you enjoy them,” he said, smiling back. “Always a pleasure to help a pretty girl.”
For some reason, his compliment left her looking close to tears. Her reaction made him want to take her hand, ask her what was wrong. But if he tried, he was certain she’d tell him it was none of his concern. And she’d be right. Besides, now that he’d mailed his letter, it was time for him to be moving on. Tipping his hat, he gave her one more smile.
“Good day, miss,” he said, then headed for the door.
* * *
Not until the stranger had disappeared did Jennie think to ask him his name. The unexpected kindness of this man almost made her forget Mr. Dixon and the debt, and she suddenly realized that she’d never even thanked him. Hurrying to the door, she tried to spot him, but he was already out of sight.
Oh, well, Jennie thought as she left the store. There wasn’t really time to talk to him anyway. If she didn’t hurry she might miss the stage that would take her home to Beaver and she certainly didn’t have money to stay a second night in the boardinghouse.
She tucked the candy into her purse with her money and the four-shot, pepperbox pistol she always carried while still toting her suitcase, then she hurried to the booking office. The stagecoach stood out front, its six horses already hitched up. The man inside informed her that the driver would be along any minute.
Jennie purchased her ticket and sat outside on a nearby bench to wait. With nothing to read or do, except think over her mostly horrible morning, her mind soon filled with recollections of home. She pretended she was already riding her horse Dandy down the familiar wagon-rutted trail toward the ranch, past the corral fences and empty bunkhouse. Past the faded red barn where fourteen-year-old Will wou
ld be shoveling hay to the other pair of horses. Up to the two-story frame house with its front porch where Grandma Jones would be sitting in her rocker, mending clothes—the smell of her freshly baked bread mingling with the scent of meadow grass.
The possibility of losing everything she’d worked for and held so dear made her chest tighten. “What am I going to do?” She stared at her hands as if the gnawed fingernails and cracked knuckles held some kind of answer.
The sound of footsteps approaching brought up Jennie’s chin. She watched as the stage driver made a thorough inspection of the coach before coming over to greet her.
“Afternoon, miss.” He nodded, and Jennie forced a smile as she stood. He placed her suitcase on the top rack of the stage. “I hear it’s just you and me today.”
“Not a bad thing,” she said, thinking of the crowded stagecoach she’d ridden in for two days before reaching Fillmore.
“Up you go then.” He held her elbow in a gentle grip and helped her inside.
Being the only passenger, Jennie had her pick of one of the three benches. She chose the one facing forward. She settled onto the lumpy, cracked leather next to the window and set her purse in her lap.
As the driver moved to close the small door, two gentlemen sprinted up to the stagecoach, each holding a piece of luggage. Jennie gathered they might be brothers with their matching dark hair, bushy eyebrows and brown suits.
“We got seats on this stage,” the older-looking one said. He held up two stubs of paper.
From the window Jennie watched the driver inspect their tickets before nodding.
“I can place your bags on top, gentlemen.”