Chapter One

The weather was frightful when Jack Coffee stepped off of the train and into the dreary station. Rain beat heavily against the roof and poured down the windows, leaving the world outside little more than a watery blur. Pulling his jacket closer around his shoulders, Jack sighed. His own breath puffed out in a white cloud in front of him.

“Miserable night,” Vince groaned as he stepped onto the platform behind Jack. With his wide brimmed sheriff hat tucked low over his face, he looked even more dour than usual. “My house isn’t far; you can stop off there to rest first.”

Truthfully, Jack was in no mood to rest. His joints ached, and a headache had settled into the back of his skull from their recent fight. Those outlaws had been scrappy and determined, and it was easy to say that Jack had been knocked around a bit. At least the outlaws were in custody now, and he was home.

Without the energy to argue, Jack quietly followed Vince home. The hum of the train station, still busy even at this time of evening, left his head banging harder than ever. Yet the second they stepped onto the open street, he felt the relief. Rain wasn’t common here at all, as dry and arid as it was, and a part of him was almost grateful for the sheets of rain now pouring from the darkening sky.

Vince lived nearby, perhaps ten minutes from the station. They crept along the quiet street, hauling their tired bodies up the gentle hill, both of them too tired to speak.

The gate creaked as Vince pushed it open, and the front door creaked even louder. Vince shook off his coat as he stepped inside, the dim light illuminating the dark circles under his eyes.

Feeling no better than Vince looked, Jack forced himself to trudge inside, too. “At least it’s over with,” he commented tiredly, slipping off his hat. His auburn hair was plastered to his face from the rain.

“It was a job well done,” Vince replied. Then his eyes widened as he caught sight of something – or someone – behind Jack, and he broke into a wide smile. “Hettie!”

Hettie, Vince’s wife, was a pretty young woman with a mass of dark curls and bright, shining eyes. Those eyes were narrowed now, though, as she stormed over to the two men with a huff. “Look at the state of you two,” she chided. “Have you been fighting again? I’ve told you both a hundred times that you can’t keep fighting outlaws and criminals like you’re invincible.”

Jack wilted under Hettie’s intense stare, but Vince only laughed. It was a rich sound, warm even, and in almost a decade of knowing Vince, Jack had only ever heard that laugh when Hettie was around.

“Well,” Hettie replied with a roll of her eyes, “Susannah and the baby are in bed already. Although she really wanted to wait for you, I had to say no.” Her eyes darted to the top of the stairs, as if she expected the girl to appear, summoned by her name. “Now I’m glad I said no. Imagine if either of them saw you both in this state!”

Jack wasn’t sure if she meant their injuries, their soaking wet clothes, or the fact that they both looked about ready to pass out from exhaustion at any given moment. It was probably all three, he decided after a moment. “I’m sorry, Hettie,” he murmured, “but we didn’t expect a fight to break out. We’ve got them, though, and they’re currently detained in the county jail.”

“Then you’ll have time to sit and be tended to,” Hettie replied gently. She took Vince by the arm and led him into the little kitchen, which was always roasting hot no matter how cold it was outside. The hearth was lit, soup bubbling away, and it filled the room with pleasant heat.

Vince’s aunt Martha sat at the kitchen table slicing potatoes, and she sent both men a raised brow as they traipsed in. “My,” she exclaimed. “Looks as if you two have had a day.”

“You could say that,” Jack agreed. When he tried to sit down at the table, his knee protested with a jolt of aching pain. Right. He had almost forgotten that he’d fallen during the chase, landing directly onto his knees.

“They look like they’ve been through the wars,” Hettie fussed. She was fumbling for the med kit that Jack knew she kept above the sink. It was a little tin box with bandages and the like, mostly for Susannah’s scrapes and bruises, as children were likely to get. Now, though, they were going to make use of it.

Hettie busied herself dabbing at a cut along Vince’s cheek, and he rolled his eyes – but he didn’t resist, or even try to make a fuss, so it was all in good humor. “Martha,” Hettie piped up after a moment, “could you look over Jack, please? He’ll try to convince you that he’s fine, but don’t listen. He’s just as stubborn as Vince.”

Martha laughed, deepening the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes. As she was Vince’s aunt, Martha was somewhat getting on in age, and sometimes she struggled to get around. Her cheerfulness, though, had never suffered. “Let’s see what’s wrong with you, boy.” She beckoned Jack over.

He’d only just sat down, but Jack knew better than to argue with Martha. Dutifully he stood, trudging over to the other end of the table so that Martha could survey his injuries. Pulling out another chair, he collapsed into it with a sigh. “Really, I’m fine-”

“You are not,” Martha chided, “so let me check you over, at least. That cheek is going to bruise, and you’re favoring your left leg – are you sure we shouldn’t call the doctor?”

“There’s really no need,” Vince cut in. A thin piece of gauze had been carefully placed over his cut cheek, and now Hettie was busying herself with cleaning the blood from his neck. The blood wasn’t his because Vince had been forced to use his weapons against the outlaws, but Hettie was nothing if not thorough.

Martha offered a well-meaning roll of her eyes before turning to Jack. “She coddles him, doesn’t she?” Martha chided, but it was with a smile. “Things have changed since Hettie arrived. Have you never thought about a family yourself, Jack?”

Jack sucked in a breath as Martha swiped at a cut on his jaw with cleaning alcohol. He hadn’t even realized he’d been injured there, and it left his face stinging. “I don’t have time for romance,” he replied with a shrug. “Being Deputy Sheriff takes up too much of my time.”

“You just don’t understand the importance of family,” Martha said firmly. “You’re young. I’m sure you’ll change your mind.”

At twenty-nine, Jack was only two years younger than Vince; but he didn’t say so out loud. Perhaps he was just too young to see how important family was, but that was only because his own work took precedence. Then again, he was only a deputy. Vince was the sheriff, and he had time for a wife and child. Shaking his head, Jack made to stand up-

Only for Martha to put a thin hand on his shoulder and gently push him back down. “Not until I deal with that knee,” she said with a raised brow. “Roll up your pant leg, please.”

A part of Jack almost didn’t want to see what his leg looked like, but he dutifully rolled up the fabric anyway. When he glanced down, he saw purplish bruises already beginning to form.

“See, Jack? If you had a wife to come home to, she could be looking after you right now. Instead, you have me.” Martha raised both brows as if to say tell me I’m wrong. Then she brought both of her bony hands to Jack’s knee and began pressing at the joint with careful precision. “Wouldn’t it be nice to come home to a beautiful young woman?”

Jack hissed as Martha’s deft fingers pressed into the bruise. “You know you’re my favorite girl,” Jack joked. “Why would I need anyone else – ouch!”

“Oh hush now,” Martha chided, and it earned a muffle laugh from Vince at the other end of the table. “That’s just an excuse. Now, your knee seems fine to me, so you just let that bruise heal up on its own.”

“Yes, Martha.” Sometimes it was better to humor her than argue, and this was one of those times. He couldn’t understand why people were so invested in his love life. Or rather, lack thereof. Stretching out his injured leg, Jack sank into the wooden chair with a sigh. “And who would you pick, should I decide to start courting?”

“I’m sure I could find you someone,” Hettie piped up with a smile. She discarded a bloody rag, quickly grabbing fresh bandages to wrap around Vince’s now-bare arm. The cut across his shoulder was long but shallow and likely didn’t need bandages at all, but Jack knew how Hettie loved to dote on Vince. “I’m sure there has to be a few girls in town who are looking for husbands.”

“Thank you,” Jack cut in, “but if I were to court a woman, I’d rather do it on my own terms.”

“An admirable decision, but if we leave you to it, you’ll never marry.” Hettie stood, bundling up the various rags and scraps to drop them into the sink. When she returned, she pressed a kiss to the corner of Vince’s lips and asked, “Better?”

“Much, thank you.” Vince smiled, that soft smile that was reserved only for the precious few. Not so long ago, Vince had been quiet and withdrawn, the kind of man who rarely spoke unless spoken to. Slowly, over the months that he and Hettie had been married, he was learning to open up.

Jack couldn’t help but smile as he watched the two interact. They were sweet together, that was undeniable.

“A good woman completes a man,” Martha said, snapping Jack from his observations. When he turned to her, she was smiling. “Just think about that, at least.”

This was one of those moments that he’d thought of earlier. It was better to nod and go along with it than contradict Martha. Hauling himself upright, Jack felt the bones in his back pop and crack. It both left his back aching and somehow relieved some of the pressure, but mostly it just left him wishing for bed. “I’ll think about it, Martha,” he promised, “but for now, I should leave you all your supper.”

“Let me see you to the door,” Vince offered. He stood, squeezing past Hettie in the narrow kitchen. He caught her by the waist, ducking down to press a quick kiss to her forehead before beckoning Jack forward. They really were sweet together, and in these quiet, casual moments it became all the more obvious how much they adored each other.

Jack hated to admit how the display of affection made his heart jump, how he found himself staring wistfully at Hettie and Vince’s exchange. He noticed how Vince’s lips quirked into a little smile, and how Hettie’s shoulders relaxed whenever Vince was near. It was easy to feel like Jack was missing something when he saw those two together.

Shaking his head to rid himself of those thoughts, Jack bid goodbye to Hettie and Martha with a smile. Then he followed Vince into the quiet hall, dark now that the sun had set.

“She means well, you know,” Vince said as he opened the front door. “Martha, I mean. She’s only concerned that you might be lonely, living alone in that big house.”

Jack didn’t think his house was big – although having it passed on to him by his wealthy father, it was certainly bigger than Vince’s. Still, that wasn’t really the point, was it? “I don’t mind,” he said truthfully. “Though sometimes I do wonder what I’m missing out on.”

Vince offered an awkward smile, and he reached out to pat Jack’s shoulder in what he assumed was supposed to be a comforting manner. “You’ll find the right woman eventually,” he replied. “Or not, if you don’t want to. Whatever you choose, you know what’s best.”

“Thank you.” Clearing his throat, Jack stepped out onto the front steps, feeling the wind against his skin. The rain had stopped, at least, and he was no longer drenched in grimy rain water. “Goodnight, Vince. Get some sleep.”

“You too. We both deserve it after tonight.”

After saying their goodbyes, Jack left Vince to his quiet evening. Jack took his time walking home, giving his knee a chance to rest as he ambled through the streets. This late, Hollow was virtually empty, save for a few people rushing to get home. For the most part, Hollow was a quiet town. One might even say it was boring, save for the occasional gossip or an outlaw riding through.

Eventually he came across the little street that led home. Jack trudged up the steps and slipped into the dark, cold hallway. It was the same every night, coming home to an empty house and dark rooms. Perhaps, he thought, Martha is right. This is house is too cold. Too lonely.

Except, despite what Hettie had said about finding him someone, Jack knew that there was nobody in Hollow who was interested. He’d lived in Hollow his entire life, grown up around the same people on the same little street. He knew there were no available women to court.

An idea occurred to him, though, as he kicked off his shoes and padded upstairs. What if he didn’t court someone from Hollow? After a difficult beginning, having a mail order bride had worked wonderfully for Vince, and he and Hettie were so clearly in love.

Somehow, Jack had ended up in his study instead of the bedroom across the hall. The desk stood in front of the window, looking out onto the quiet street below. Letters and newspapers lay scattered; he had been meaning to tidy for days, and he noticed that one was open to a page of mail order bride advertisements.

It was like a sign, really. Something was telling him to try, and the thought had nestled itself into his mind and refused to leave. Settling down at his desk, Jack sighed. Why not try it? If nobody answered his advertisement, then nothing would change. And if somebody did answer, then he could choose what to do then.

Jack was reaching for a pen before he even realized it. It was an old fountain pen, one of his father’s, so old that the ink had stained almost every part of it. Reaching for the ink pot as well, Jack let out a deep breath.

Somehow, he had decided. Jack Coffee was going to find himself a mail order bride. Or at least try to. After all, nothing could be lost by trying, and he wanted to bring some light back into this dreary old house.

Chapter Two

Gentleman of twenty-nine years old, Deputy Sheriff of Hollow, Texas. Looking to share companionship with a young woman of affectionate disposition, who would not mind settling down. 

Jack stared at the paper with a scowl. A part of him wanted to simply scrunch it up and throw it into the fire, but something stopped him. He had no idea how this mail order bride business worked, or what kind of information he was supposed to include. Of the brief advertisements he had read in the past, they had all differed wildly. Some men simply included what kind of women they wanted. Some were more personal, writing about themselves and their interests.

Eyes flickering to the window, Jack saw the moonlight shining back at him. It was true that until now he hadn’t thought much about a wife, and it was his own fault. He lived and breathed for work, and everything else was secondary. Yet it was the same for Vince, and even he had settled down eventually. Hands pressed into his temples, Jack sighed.

Looking for love, not an exchange, based on communication and mutual understanding. Only women genuinely interested in romance need apply.

It just sounded so… impersonal. Yet it followed what he had seen of similar advertisements. Besides, he had been staring at this paper for so long now that his eyes were beginning to strain under the weak light of the table lamp flickering by his side. Tomorrow, he could submit it to a paper or mail order bride agency. For now, Jack had looked at this for long enough. Carefully folding the paper, he slipped it into an envelope.

The rest of the evening passed in peace. Jack prepared a supper of toast, as he didn’t feel like cooking after the chaos of the day. He ate it at the kitchen table, alone, and wondered how he had never minded such a thing before. Perhaps it was only Martha’s words getting to him, but Jack really did find it too quiet now. Too empty. He looked about the kitchen and saw only his own belongings. Perhaps having a woman here would liven the place up, finally bring that something to his house – and life – that had been missing.

Finished with supper, Jack rinsed the plate under the sink before trudging back upstairs. Every so often his knee twinged, but after a good night’s rest, that would surely improve. The bedroom was cold as he slipped inside, and colder still as he changed into his nightwear. The bed lacked the warmth of another body beside him, and the other side of the pillows and mattress remained untouched. Jack sank under the covers and pulled them high over his head, craving the warmth.

Silence swallowed him up, and within moments, Jack was asleep.

***

The next morning, Jack rose with a groan. Every part of him ached, from his head to his ankles, and he felt as if his entire body had been thrown about like a doll. He dressed slowly, giving his aching body time to adjust, before slipping downstairs for breakfast.

As the kettle screeched, preparing his morning tea, Jack allowed his thoughts to drift. Last night, writing that advertisement had seemed sensible. Now, it made his stomach roll with nerves. It was true that he had somewhat envied Vince and Hettie for their relationship. He wondered how something that started off so awkwardly could have bloomed into something beautiful.

Shaking his head, Jack downed his tea in three huge gulps. Then he went to work, because it was already half-past eight and he liked to be there a few minutes early to read over the morning mail.

He met Vince by the door as Vince was opening up the sheriff’s office and greeted him with a smile. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Vince replied with a nod. “Feeling any better today?”

“If only. I think it will be a while before my knee’s right again.”

It looked like Vince had changed the gauze on his cheek, because it was smaller than he remembered. Most likely, Hettie had insisted on changing it before Vince left. Jack’s heart ached for reasons he couldn’t decipher, but it happened each time he thought about how much Hettie cared.

It’s because you want that for yourself, he chided silently. And yes, that was true. Jack wasn’t trying to deny it any longer.

Vince and Jack entered the office together, and Jack went right to the little lamp by the door. He lit it with a match, and warm light flooded through the room. The desks were in the same state they’d been left in, piled high with paper and letters and files. There were coffee stains everywhere, too, because Vince and Jack both went through a lot during the long days.

Before Jack could dart forward to try and tidy, however, Vince caught him by the elbow. “About last night,” he began, then grimaced. If this was a pep talk, Vince hated them. He tried again, hand slipping away from Jack’s arm. “I can only apologize for what Martha said. I’ve asked her not to be so forward with you, because your business is your own.”

“Martha can be nosy, but it comes from a good place.” He glanced down at his desk, noticing the pile of unread letters from throughout the week. He should probably get to them, but something stopped him. “Actually,” he said to Vince, “she’s right. Maybe I do need someone in my life. A woman to come home to and talk to. Settle down with. Everything that Martha said got me thinking, you know.”

Vince’s brows shot up to his hairline, eyes wide and incredulous. “Really. What brought this on?”

“Honestly? You.”

“Me?”

Jack couldn’t quite meet Vince’s eyes, so he stepped away to grab a handful of letters. Most were likely minor complaints or completely irrelevant, but it gave his hands something to do. “You and Hettie,” he confessed, “I see how you are together. How much you love each other and enjoy being together.” He shrugged, suddenly feeling childish for expressing such desires. “And if you can work around a family and work, why can’t I?”

Vince managed a smile, a soft laugh leaving him. “That’s what I’ve been telling you, Jack. I’m glad you’ve finally realized it.”

If the ground had opened him up and swallowed him right there, Jack would have been thankful. At least then he could have cut this conversation short and enjoyed the solitude. Biting down on his lip, he said, “I wrote a letter to a mail order bride agency. I’m going to post it today.”

“Oh.” If it were even possible, Vince’s eyes were even wider now than before. Yet there was something appreciative about his surprise, like the news was shocking but not unwelcome. “Well, good for you. I hope you find someone nice.”

Cheeks flushed faintly pink, Jack said, “Thank you. I truly don’t know if anything will come of it, but I know it worked for you.” Not at first, he knew, because Hettie and Vince hardly got along for the first unsteady months. Then, Hettie had been kidnapped by outlaws, and not getting along had become the least of their worries. In the end, however, it had all worked out.

Really, things had turned out almost idyllic for them. Jack hoped, deep down, that he could find what they had: a loving, easy relationship based on mutual loyalty and love. Jack didn’t believe in soulmates – but if he did, it would have been because of those two.

“Now,” Vince clapped his hands, and Jack startled from his thoughts, “I’ve got a lot of paperwork to fill out, so I should get it over with. We should take a ride over to the Thompson’s farm, too. Wild dogs have been stirring up trouble again.”

Just like that, it was business as usual. It was as if their conversation had never happened at all, and Jack found himself breathing a sigh of relief. Settling down at his desk, Jack reached for the first in the pile of letters. For now, at least, he could focus on work. Then, later, he would submit that advertisement and pray that a lovely young woman took an interest. A part of him couldn’t help but smile in anticipation, waiting for his lunch break so he could post that letter. A larger part of him rolled with anxiety at the very concept.

But what was the point, if he didn’t take a leap? Nothing in life came from avoidance or ignorance, and that especially applied to love. So, for the rest of the morning, a mixture of excitement and apprehension lingered in his mind until Jack posted the letter that afternoon. After that, it was official.

He was looking for a mail order bride.

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Chapter One

“Is something burning?” Laurie demanded.

Sabrina looked up at the sound of Laurie’s heavy boots making their way into the room. She’d been lost in her thoughts, as she often found herself in the weeks since she’d moved in with her cousin. Sabrina did register the smell of smoke and char now that he’d mentioned it. She looked over at the hearth, and sure enough, the toast was blackened. Not the golden brown she’d been aiming for and barely edible at this point.

“Were you always this useless?” Laurie demanded. Sabrina looked up to find him sneering at her. She quickly looked away, moving to right the wrong before things got worse.

“I’m sorry. There’s still some bread left. I’ll make you fresh toast and make do with the burnt pieces. I’ve already worked dough for another loaf. It’s rising, and I’ll bake it while you’re at work today.”

“You’re always sorry about something,” Laurie spat.

At least it was morning. Laurie’s head must be pounding after another night drinking whatever he could get his hands on. The nights were worse. She was grateful to have her small room when he was getting into his cups.

Some men were jovial drunks. Some men were incoherent drunks. Some men were quiet drunks. But Laurie? Laurie was an angry drunk.

It seemed the world had done Laurie a great deal of wrong in his years. Sabrina could certainly relate to that. From her early childhood, the world had done very little other than take away the things she loved. But she was a woman, and a woman didn’t have the luxury of getting angry about her lot in life.

She had her place here. It wasn’t where she would have chosen. It wasn’t where she wanted to be, but it was where she had to call home now.

“How long is the toast going to take?” Laurie barked from across the room.

Sabrina held her hand over the fire and counted. After twenty seconds, she could no longer stand to keep her hand near the flame.  It hadn’t gotten too low. She hurried to throw another piece of coal on the fire and stoke it.

“Just a few minutes,” Sabrina assured him. She didn’t want him to linger any longer than he had to.

“Well, hurry up. I’ve got to get to the shop.”

Sabrina brushed the burned bread off of the grates and placed the fresh slices onto it. She examined the burned pieces. She could likely scrape much of the charred pieces off and make a passable meal of it. It didn’t take long for Laurie’s toast to cook.

She spread a bit of butter and jam across the slices, mindful not to use too much. She’d been chastised about frivolities and what a financial burden she was on Laurie far too many times to think she could win any favor with him for treating him to extra jam.

She watched him take a bite, relieved when he had nothing to say on the matter. He kept a short beard, hair in a low pleat. He had been quite handsome when he was younger. The drink hadn’t taken all of that from him. In his day, many women hoped to call him husband. Sabrina could remember that much. She remembered a kind smile on a clean-shaven face.

With all the women in the world to choose from, he chose the one who didn’t choose him back. Sure, she’d allowed him to court her, to develop feelings for her. But when it came time to accept his proposal, Laurie found that she already arranged herself with his closest friend.

“I’ve left some money for the weekly shopping,” Laurie said in a brusque tone, taking the final bite of his toast. Had he been this rude to the girl he’d paid to keep house for him before Sabrina had been forced to move in? He pushed back his chair and stood to prepare for work.

“Your lunch is packed. The last of the soup.” Sabrina hurried to grab his lunch pail and handed it to him after he slipped his jacket on.

He took the pail wordlessly. “Mind you get the cleaning done today,” he said.

It seemed a thank you was too much to expect. He hadn’t asked to take her in. He hadn’t asked to be her last living relative. Had there been someone else she could have gone to, she would have done so. She imagined that he would have encouraged her to do so. Sabrina didn’t enjoy being a burden on her cousin any more than he enjoyed being burdened by her.

“Have you got any wash?” Sabrina asked. “I was hoping to drop mine at the laundress today.”

“I suppose you’ll be needing more money, then?” Laurie snapped. A few weeks ago, his tone would have made her flinch. Now it was just another fact of life.

There was no reason to ask other than to reassert that she was a burden to him. It was a common theme of their conversations. She didn’t drop off the wash nearly as often as she would have liked. And she’d just concluded her ladies’ time. Her hand washing only did so much, and her clothes needed proper attention.

“I will wait until you have need of the laundress,” Sabrina offered.

Laurie didn’t answer for a time. It had been weeks since they last had their clothes cleaned. Sabrina wondered if he was mentally calculating how much he would have left for drink after the grocery and laundry. She could practically see him wondering if clean clothes were worth it.

“You may collect my soiled clothes from my room.”

He placed another two silver coins on the table and left for the day. There was no way of knowing whether he would come home a bit more sober and therefore less angry, or worse, for his lack of drink.

Sabrina decided it best she have all of the housework done and supper ready before Laurie came back home. If she could simply serve him his evening meal and retire to her room, she might avoid the worst of it.

She settled in and smeared a bit of butter and jam across what could no longer realistically be called toast. It wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d anticipated. The bitterness of the burned bread played rather nicely with the richness of the butter and the sweetness of the jam. Not a ruined morning after all.

She would need her strength for the day ahead. Going to the general store meant having to carry the wares back to the apartment. Luckily the apartment Laurie rented was on the second floor and not the fifth. On more than one occasion, she’d helped a neighbor up to the higher floors. She’d never asked for anything in return, but occasionally the ladies she helped would give her pieces of shortbread or other sweets that Laurie didn’t tolerate her wasting their flour on.

It was incredible how different her life had been only six weeks ago. She’d been happily married to a handsome and charming man. Preparing breakfast hadn’t been such a chore when it meant feeding the man she loved. It was a task she’d relished. Toasting bread by the fire and spreading on jam from the local market were tasks she’d taken joy in doing. Even the most mundane of chores, like boiling the water for tea or sweeping the dust out of the corners of their small apartment, were fond memories now.

She often lost herself in memories of that beautiful year. It led to mishaps, like burned toast or water boiling away until there was too little left to brew tea. Laurie had a few choice words for her whenever it happened in his presence.

When she’d met Alan, she’d been charmed by his friendly manner and his kind eyes, with the smile lines around them. He’d swept her away from the life of a maid. When he’d talked to Sabrina about his dreams, she could see them laid out before her. He had passion and ambition, and he’d passed away far too soon.

Dwelling on her time with Alan didn’t change what she had ahead of her today. She’d become practiced enough to know that the fire would take time to cool enough for her to clean it out. So, Sabrina collected Laurie’s soiled clothes and placed them in the cloth bag with her own.

She pulled her hair back from her face, braiding it behind her to avoid getting ash and soot into it. She wouldn’t heat water for bathing for another two days. When the fire had cooled, Sabrina cleaned the hearth out. She wished there was a small stove like she and Alan had in their apartment, but Laurie lived in an older apartment.

The small basin of water in her room did well enough for cleaning important areas until bath day. Thus, Sabrina cleaned herself before heading out with the wash. She hid the coin purse well in the pleats of her skirts, tied off and unseen.

The laundress weighed the wash and demanded only one of the silver coins Laurie left. Perhaps she could calm him when he came home by putting the coin back into his pocket. Maybe he’d head back out to the saloon and not come home until morning.

She picked up the items she would need to feed the two of them for the week at the general store: a small bag of flour, some coffee, eggs, milk, hard cheese, root vegetables, and some venison for stew. She could stretch that until the following week, especially since she planned to dry some cuts from the venison for jerky.

When she returned to the apartment, she stoked the fire back up, grateful that she needn’t have bought more coal this week. She placed the dough she’d prepared earlier into the Dutch oven and placed a few pieces of hot coal on top of it. Slicing and hanging the venison from the top of the hearth was a job she didn’t enjoy, but it would help feed them for the week.

The water in Laurie’s bedroom needed changing, as did her own. She collected the two basins and headed out toward the street, where there was a pump. A line of other women doing the same greeted her.

“Heard that cousin of yours fussing again last night,” Florence said. Sabrina mostly kept to herself, but Florence often struck up a conversation. She lived in the apartment above Laurie’s and always seemed to have something to say about everything. Of course, she couldn’t confront Laurie about his behaviors, so Sabrina was left to deal with the women’s complaints about him.

Florence leaned in close. “He was into the drink again, wasn’t he?” she asked in a whisper.

“Surely you know I am not going to speak ill of my only family member who has graciously taken me in?” Normally she would simply ignore the comments and go about her tasks. Something about the day had her in a mood.

“Of course not. I only mentioned it out of worry. I hope he doesn’t ruin his prospects with his habits.”

Laurie was the apprentice to a cobbler who’d lost his only son. In recent months the old man who owned the shop was getting tired and allowing Laurie to take on more responsibility. It was rumored that when the shop owner passed, he would be leaving the business to Laurie in the absence of his own kin.

Laurie was many things after his workday finished, but he was professional and good at his work when he was at the shop. Many of the shoes on the feet of the women waiting for the pump were either made or repaired by him. He was a part of the community, even if they didn’t appreciate his evening antics.

“Your concern is appreciated, I’m sure. Laurie does very well at the shop.”

The woman was cleaning out and filling her own basin, which was a relief. Sabrina knew that the other ladies believed she should somehow straighten up her cousin’s drinking habit, quiet him down in the evenings when they were trying to get their babies to sleep.

In truth, she’d never tried. His demeanor when he was drunk intimidated her, and she had no desire to find out how angry he could get by confronting him. Things were easier when she simply stayed out of sight and let him drone on about his lost love.

So long as she had food and coffee or tea ready for him in the morning, he never spoke of his rantings. Never asked why it was that she stayed in her room after supper. It was a quiet understanding that even if they were stuck in this living arrangement, they could easily leave one another alone.

She had a place to live, and in exchange for the increased food costs, he no longer had to pay a maid a dollar-and-a-half per week to clean his living space. She did her best to pull her weight.

Once both basins were filled with fresh water, she headed back into the kitchen. Using the poker, she moved the coals off the top of the Dutch oven and back onto the fire, which had gotten lower than she’d hoped it would. She used the same poker to lift the heavy lid off and peered at the bread.

She’d let the dough rise for a bit too long. It wasn’t the round and fluffy loaf she’d been anticipating. Surely, Laurie would have something to say about that. There was nothing to be done for it. She couldn’t scrap it and start over. Laurie might not measure the flour to see if she was using too much, but he wouldn’t take kindly to being asked for more money than usual to replenish their supply sooner. Sabrina believed it was better to face the admonishment for flattened bread than request more of his drinking money.

Her next task was to peel the root vegetables for the stew. She placed the meat into the Dutch oven and layered the potatoes and carrots over it. Over time, she’d managed to put together a little store of spices. Some salt and a bit of dried herbs went into the mixture. She then covered the meat and vegetables with water. She would have to pay close attention to keeping the fire low and steady, or the venison would be tough. Perhaps if the meat were tender, Laurie would overlook the imperfect bread.

Alan wouldn’t have admonished Sabrina for the mistake. If she had served him flattened bread, he simply would have smiled and thanked her for baking it. He didn’t have grand and unreachable expectations for her. He was charming and kind, patient with her in a way that the aunts and uncles she was raised by after her parents’ deaths hadn’t been.

She’d anticipated working as a maid for most of her days; there wasn’t much work aside from cleaning for women in Madison, Georgia. She didn’t have grand dreams. She just wanted a quiet life with a kind companion. And for a time, she’d had that. Then Alan passed, and she was left with nothing but a few of his possessions, which were sentimental but not worth much.

In the end, she did end up doing maid’s work. Rather than for strangers and for a wage, it was in Laurie’s apartment and for room and board. So, clean the apartment, she did. Until the late afternoon, she cleaned and scrubbed. She was grateful for the small size of the apartment. She shuddered to think of how much work it would be to keep an entire house to Laurie’s standards.

Sabrina checked the stew and found that it was nearly finished. It was with some trepidation that she sliced a small piece of the meat off. She was relieved to find it soft, with a pleasant flavor. Her knife slid into the potatoes and carrots easily. The fire was low enough to simply keep the meal warm until it was time to eat.

The strips of meat she’d left to dry were coming along nicely. After she cleaned the hearth for the night, she would need to salt the meat for a few days to finish preserving it. Between the stew and the jerky, she felt she had made good use of the money Laurie left her.

Sabrina looked around the apartment. She was satisfied with the completion of her tasks. Her feet ached from being on them all day, and she finally took a seat, intent to rest until Laurie came home.

“This is what you do while I’m working all day, then?”

Sabrina’s eyes jerked open. Two things hit her at once. The first was the thunderous expression on Laurie’s face. The second was the smell of ale. He smelled as though he’d been drenched in drink. Sabrina stood. She would quickly serve him his dinner and clean out the hearth.

“I’ll fix your plate. There’s new water in your rooms if you’d like to freshen up.”

Sabrina opened the Dutch oven, deeply relieved that the stew was warm and thick. She sliced a hunk of the break off and placed it on the plate next to the bowl of stew. She turned toward the table and found that Laurie hadn’t moved from where he stood.

“I work all day long, and you doze.”

“No, I—”

The back of Laurie’s hand connected with Sabrina’s cheek. She felt her lip split at the impact. The plate fell from her hand as she staggered backward. Her hand flew up to her face, cradling the lip as it bled.

She looked up at Laurie in shock. He’d yelled at her before. She’d endured watching spittle fly from his mouth as he screamed. Never before had he put a hand on her.

Laurie wiped his hand off on his vest. He walked over to the dining area and picked up another bowl. He made his way over to the pot and served himself. He sat at the table and began eating. For a few minutes, Sabrina simply sat there in disbelief.

Then Laurie grabbed a cloth napkin from across the table and threw it in her direction. He nodded at the spilled food. He stared at her as if to dare her to contradict him again. Sabrina didn’t. She cleaned up the floor, then the hearth. She placed the dried meat into a dish of salt and brought a piece of the bread with her to her room for the night.

Chapter Two

After two long weeks of work, hands roughened by the process, Gus, at last, placed the final stone on the fireplace. He took a step back to stand next to Cole, the only man he trusted to help him build his home.

The cabin was modest, to be sure, but it was sturdy and well-planned. Painstaking efforts had been made to seal every crack. There were two windows at the front of the cabin, facing south to allow natural light into the house. In front of the house was a large, covered porch. He could imagine two high-backed chairs out on that porch and drinking a cup of coffee in the morning to watch the sunrise.

It took nearly two weeks with two sets of hands to build it, but that was Gus’ own fault. He could have chosen to do things a bit simpler, but that wasn’t his way.

He had a mind toward starting a family, and while this cabin wouldn’t be the last house he built, it would hold for quite some time. It wasn’t common to have more than a single room in a cabin like this one, but it would be necessary should he find a bride.

“Thank you for all your help, Cole. I couldn’t have built this on my own,” Gus said.

“Well, you could have. It just would’ve taken you two months.” Cole flashed the same boyish grin Gus had been getting since they were kids. Cole was impossible not to like. Gus didn’t have the same charm. The other men at Cole’s ranch were fond of him because he was a good, hard-working, and fair man. Cole could have been none of those things and still gotten by. The fact that he took pride in working the land his father left him only added to the respect Gus had for him.

“You’ve got yourself a fine piece of land here,” Cole said, looking out of one of the windows.

The land the cabin sat on was yet to be tamed, it was overrun with errant weeds, and Gus would need to mark off the lines of his property. It didn’t look like much now, but it would be something with time and attention.

Owning this piece of land was like a dream made real. He currently lived in the room provided for him at Cole’s ranch. Working on Cole’s ranch came with many benefits. He earned a decent wage, and he liked the work. The room and board he received there had helped him save to afford the lumber and stone for the cabin.

“We ought to start heading back to Haggerty before Diana has our heads for missing supper,” Cole said.

Cole spoke of Diana with such affection. Even her stubborn nature was something he relished. They were an even match. Where Cole was friendly and easy-going, Diana made sure that the ranch ran smoothly. One would expect Cole to be the firm hand, but the woman who fed the men was where the real power sat.

Gus was pleased for his friend but couldn’t help feeling a bit envious of their happiness. There was no malice in the feeling. He wanted the two of them to be happy. He simply wished to find that same happiness for himself. Now that he had land and a home on that land, he felt more keenly that he wanted someone to share it all with.

Both men climbed up onto the seat of the wagon. The journey between Haggerty Ranch and Gus’ land didn’t take long. It was around twenty minutes from the edge of Cole’s property to Gus’.

True to form, Diana was standing out in front of the dining barn. The apron she wore, stretched over the bump of her pregnancy, was well-used. If Gus had to guess, they were having stew today, a regular occurrence on the ranch. It was nothing to complain about. Diana had a way in the kitchen.

Cole swept over to her and kissed her cheek. She let him linger there for a moment before pushing him away playfully. Gus hoped he would be able to find such easy comfort, himself.

“Tell me you’ve finally finished the cabin,” she said, fixing him with a demanding stare.

“Good evening, Diana,” Gus greeted teasingly. “It’s great to see you too. How was your day?”

Diana didn’t blush. Cole often joked that she was born without a sense of shame. He didn’t mind that she wasn’t the picture of a demure lady. Diana was a hard worker, a necessity out in Dakota territory.

“It would’ve been better if my husband were here,” Diana said, never one to be shamed even jokingly. “Thanks for asking. Now, answer.”

“We finished it,” Cole interjected.

Her demeanor changed almost immediately, her stern gaze replaced by a brilliant smile. “Well, congratulations, Gus!” Diana exclaimed.

“You just want me to clear out of my room, don’t you?” he joked. Cole laughed aloud, and Diana shot him an annoyed look, which broke into a grin after a few seconds. They were a match for one another. Gus was happy to see the joy they brought to one another, even if it did remind him that he had yet to find someone to settle down with.

“You know I do! We can get some more help out here once you’re living in your cabin,” Diana replied. She kept her tone light, but Gus knew there was truth there.

It went unsaid that they would eventually need to replace Gus. His goal was to open his own small ranch. Something he could handle on his own or with another ranch hand or two. It would take time to establish himself enough to bring help on, but the day would come that Haggerty would need another set of skilled hands.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to do without me tomorrow afternoon, as well. We’ve got to head into town and buy furniture for Gus’ cabin,” Cole reminded Diana. She cut Gus a conspiratorial look.

“You sure you don’t want to take me along? I’ve got much better taste than Cole,” she said.

“Hey, now. I chose to marry you, didn’t I?” he asked, feigning offense.

Gus moved quickly, bodily nudging Cole. They weren’t children anymore, not keen to wrestle one another in the fields when there was work to be done, but they still occasionally tried to knock one another over.  “Only after I sent for her.”

Cole stumbled slightly, not expecting the push. Then he came back full speed and sent Gus a step or two out of his original path.

“Alright, boys. Come and eat,” Diana scolded, but it sounded fond and indulgent.

It was a fine meal. It always was. Gus didn’t often dine with just Cole and Diana, but the other men were already cleared out of the dining barn. The other men weren’t the type to claim favoritism, except for Evan.

Gus was sure he’d endure annoying behavior from him for the next few days. He was keen to take Gus’ place as Cole’s right-hand man. And once Gus started his own ranch, he was the next likely choice. The thought annoyed Gus only because of how antagonistic Evan was toward him. If he were less of a pain, Gus would have taken him under his wing and prepared him to take over, but there was little chance of that currently.

“I’ll surely miss your cooking once I’m living at my cabin,” Gus complimented.

Cole and Diana exchanged a look. Gus looked between the two of them. He felt the pang of longing for someone to have those intimate moments and secrets with.

“What is it?” he asked.

Cole didn’t say anything, looking back over to Diana. Diana gave him a quick nod. “Diana penned an advertisement on your behalf. We’ll leave it to you to mail it out tomorrow, but we think you should.”

Gus considered his own home, on his land. His mind was turned to the prospect of a wife as well. He wondered if living in the cabin alone would feel lonely in a way that the single room hadn’t. There was also the tending to the housework to think of. Gus wasn’t of a mind that all home-keeping should be done by the lady of the house. He didn’t mind doing a fair share to keep things running well, but it was a daunting task to take on alone and would cost a significant amount of coin to hire someone on.

Cole and Diana were doing their fair share of meddling. Gus would have to take the meddling in stride. He had, after all, stepped in to get Diana out here.

“If it worked out for us, it could work out for you too,” Cole insisted.

Gus recalled the way Cole had insisted things wouldn’t work with Diana. He’d seen the two of them warm to one another, and that warmth blossomed into an enviable love. The type of love Gus hoped he, too, would find.

Hopeful as he was, Gus had a hard time believing that he would be as lucky as the two of them. The fact remained that there were no eligible women in Spring Sky. It wasn’t as though women moved out to Dakota territory on their own. Married folks continued to make their way west to carve out a life for themselves, but not single women.

Gus also knew that there were not always such happy matches from these advertisements. Looking for a companion in this manner could be hit or miss. Cole and Diana were extremely fortunate to have found each other.

“Well, alright.”

***

“Gus, are we still heading into town? I’ve spoken to Evan, and he’ll cover your duties today,” Cole said. Gus looked up from tending to the horses. The morning had passed quickly. The sun was already high in the sky.

That wasn’t the best news for Gus. He couldn’t disagree that aside from himself, Evan Black was the most capable hand on the ranch. But he was also a cunning, ambitious man who would gladly see Gus removed from his position and take his place.

It nearly made him not want to buy furniture. He hated to give Evan a chance to feel too big for his britches. All of the other men on the ranch were friendly with Gus and made no secret their distaste for the way Evan conducted himself when Cole and Gus weren’t around to see.

Evan would stomp around, barking out orders at the other ranch hands. There was little need to do so. The men knew their jobs and did them well. Cole and Gus had to have the rare conversation when they saw someone slacking, but they did so privately. There was nearly always a reason for it, sick child or wife most often. Haggerty Ranch ran as well as it did because Cole didn’t speak down to the men who worked with him.

Gus had been told that Evan had a bad habit of making his opinions of Gus known when he wasn’t around. Gus knew much about ranching, he practically grew up on Haggerty Ranch, but he was still human. Mistakes did happen from time to time. Evan liked to point out all of his shortcomings and make them into something bigger than they were.

“Yes, no use putting things off,” Gus said.

Haggerty would survive one more day without Cole and Gus. They hitched four horses up to the largest wagon Cole had, with the hopes of hauling some of the furniture to his land today. Evan stood at the front gate, looking too smug for Gus’ liking.

“Don’t worry, Cole. I’ll keep the ranch going while Gus does his shopping.” Evan didn’t even bother sounding sincere.

“There’s a downed fence post on the northern part of the property.” Gus watched as Evan nodded eagerly. He clearly didn’t know Cole the way Gus did. There was mischief around Cole’s eyes. His gaze turned abruptly hard. “I trust you’ll handle it personally?”

Even looked like he’d been smacked. It was something Gus wouldn’t have been tasked with. Hammering a post back into the ground was busy work, something for a new ranch hand. It was to Cole’s credit that he knew Evan liked to pick at Gus and handled it calmly. He didn’t need to say anything else to put Evan in his place.

“That man would go far if he could stop getting in his own way,” Cole said. Gus only nodded. He had no desire to stoop to Evan’s level. He would leave the gossiping to the lesser man. Cole never said to Evan that he should run a ranch of his own, and for good reason. When handed the reins for a single day, his treatment of the men at Haggerty said plenty about his lack of leadership qualities.

Men wouldn’t follow him, wouldn’t want to make his ranch succeed if he ever managed to get a plot of land. Without good men to work with him, he would be doomed to fail. Gus sometimes wondered if some of the men at Haggerty would want to work with him, but he wouldn’t consider poaching any of Cole’s men.

Sure, the nature of the work was such that men often moved on to other places after a time. But Gus wouldn’t be the reason Cole’s ranch might suffer.

“What are you looking to buy for the cabin?” Cole asked.

“First thing is a bed. Can’t be making do sleeping on the floor. A table, some chairs. A chest of drawers for each bedroom,” Gus replied.

“You know you’re welcome to take your meals at the ranch until you find a wife.”

That was a thought he hadn’t considered. Gus was sure he could learn to cook if need be, but he wouldn’t have much time for pulling meals together. Ranching was long hours by definition, and cooking was no small task. He knew Diana got up early to start arranging meals, and she had help in the kitchen.

The more he considered how much went into running a ranch and running life, the more he was determined to find a wife. He thought of coming home at the end of the day to a warm meal prepared by a kind woman, and his heart ached for it.

“That makes sense. I appreciate the offer,” Gus replied. “I suppose I should have a kettle and a pot for boiling water.”

“I’d offer you extras from my home, but they’re in heavy use already.”

“You’ve done more than enough for me, Cole.”

The ride into town didn’t take too long, and soon enough, Gus had chosen a table and four chairs. He found a simple wooden chest of drawers and a bed with four posts.

“You shouldn’t choose such a small bed. It won’t be suitable for sharing.”

“I haven’t got anyone to share a bed with, Cole.”

“You will. I saw that ad Diana wrote for you. The way she talked you up, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was sweet on you. The letters are going to come by the dozen.”

It was a stark reminder of the envelope he held in his breast pocket. He’d decided to send it. He was moving toward where he wanted to be in life, and part of that was sharing it with someone.

In the end, Gus purchased two beds. A larger one for the bedroom he planned to use, and a single for the second bedroom. There was a moment where Gus wondered if it was foolish to ready his home for things he didn’t have yet, but it would be better to be prepared.

The beds would need to be shipped out to his cabin; they were more than the wagon could handle. The table and chairs and the chest fit, so Gus and Cole tied them down to the wagon.

Gus excused himself and made his way to the Postmaster’s office. He paid the coin to send the advertisement out to Madison, Georgia. It was the same town he’d sent Cole’s, and he hoped to have the same good fortune.

Cole was grinning when he returned to the wagon. Gus found he was glad to have done it. If he didn’t find a wife in that city, he could always try sending another ad to another city. It was time to stop being envious of his friends’ relationship and find a wife of his own.

“If I’m ever going to start a ranch of my own, I’ll need horses. I’m thinking of building a stable toward the eastern border of my land.”

“That’s a good place to start. Are you going to keep cattle or sheep?”

Cattle were the more profitable and manageable, but Cole’s ranch was well-established. Even if Gus wanted to compete with his friend, he wouldn’t have a chance with his piece of land, which was small compared to Haggerty.

“My plot isn’t far from yours, and you’re in the cattle business. I think going into sheep makes sense. The community could use the wool for clothes.”

“They’re horrible animals. They need much more attention than cattle and eat everything in sight. You’ll need good help,” Cole said. Gus knew his point on sheep to be accurate, but Gus didn’t want to compete with Haggerty.

“Maybe I’ll just stay on at Haggerty. I can handle a chicken coop and sell the eggs.”

“Don’t be discouraged. It’ll take time and hard work. I think if you kept a small herd that you could handle with a few men, you’d do well.”

Once they arrived at Gus’ land, they loaded the furniture into the cabin. The cabin looked better, more like a home, with the furniture in it. Gus hoped it wouldn’t take too long for the beds to arrive.

They made it back to the ranch by the afternoon. Evan hadn’t run it into the ground in the hours they were gone. The men seemed relieved that Cole was back.

“Find yourself something pretty?” Evan sneered. Gus had patience, but Evan’s antics were tiresome.

“Sure did.”

Gus had mastered the art of ending a conversation with Evan Black. He looked forward to the day he could head home to his cabin after the work was done instead of the room across Evan’s.

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Chapter One

The train was dark and stuffy, too many bodies crowded into too little space that left the air heavy. It smelled terrible, too, of bitter sweat and a dozen different perfumes that did nothing to hide the terrible smell. It had been like this since the train left the station a day and a half ago, and only got worse.

Henrietta Jones was lucky to have her own compartment. It was cramped, with two beds smushed against the corners and enough storage for three suitcases. No more. The window, although large enough to watch the scenery go by, refused to open. Or perhaps it wasn’t supposed to. This was Hettie’s first time on an overnight train.

Currently, she sat on one of the beds she had chosen as her own for this journey and listened to the couple in the next compartment bicker. One was a tall man with a fierce scowl. The woman, although quieter, looked no less menacing. They’d been arguing all day, their raised voices drifting through the train cabin for hours. Although Hettie supposed it was a source of entertainment, it was becoming tiring.

It almost made her wish someone else was using this compartment. With someone to share with, at least, she’d be able to hold a conversation.

Letting out a sigh, Hettie sank deeper into her bed. One hand idly played with the string of pearls around her neck, rubbing the largest between thumb and forefinger. You’ll dull the pearls that way, Mother had always warned her, and if they’re ruined, I can’t very well give them to you when I die, can I? It had all been said in a joking fashion, at the time. But then, Mother had fallen ill, and a year later, Hettie attended the funeral wearing those very same pearls. She’d barely taken them off since.

Idly, she wondered what her new fiancé would think of them. True, the necklace was chunky and a little tasteless, but it wasn’t just about how they looked. It was about what they meant to her. Hettie’s mind drifted after that, less concerned about her fiancé’s opinion on her jewelry choices, but more worried about what would happen once she arrived in Texas. After all, they’d only ever spoken by letter.

Still coming to terms with the fact that she was a mail order bride, Hettie wasn’t sure what to make of it all. She only hoped it all went as smoothly as she expected.

As she lay there, staring up at the stained ceiling, Hettie heard a voice echo from somewhere down the train cabin. Just another child acting up, she assumed, until the shouting continued. A chorus of bellows rang throughout the cabin, leaving her ears ringing.

On her feet now, Hettie felt her blood run cold. Was she imagining it, or was the train slowing down? Was that why everyone was panicking? Logic told her to peek into the hallway, fear told her to stay put. Pretty face twisting into a frown, Hettie inched toward the window.

The scenery, awash with the green grass and tall trees of the countryside, wasn’t flashing by as quickly now. It only confirmed her worries, and Hettie felt her stomach drop. They were nearing the journey’s end, but considering how long the journey was, there was still plenty of time left. Fishing her pocket watch from her dress pocket, she realized with a jolt that it was even earlier than anticipated.

So why were they stopping?

Now, even the couple next door had stopped fighting.

Just then, the train lurched. Hettie was thrown forward with a gasp, and her elbow knocked against the bedpost with a painful slam. A stinging ache licked its way up her arm as she landed on the bed, arms thrown out to catch her fall. Sitting up, she stared around with wide eyes.

Her suitcases had been thrown from the overhead storage. One had landed by the window, the lock snapped, revealing her collection of books. At least it wasn’t my clothing suitcase, she thought, only for a jolt to tear through her as she realized one thing. The train had come to a complete standstill.

Her arm protested as Hettie moved to scoop up the books that had spilled onto the floor. With the suitcase broken, she ended up tossing them all onto the unused bed. Truthfully, she was only trying to put off what really had to be done. She needed to investigate, and the thought made her stomach roll.

The train, which only moments ago had been echoing with voices, now fell eerily silent. So silent, in fact, that Hettie heard her own breath coming in quick, rapid gasps. Outside her compartment door, it was as if everyone had simply vanished.

Hauling herself upright, Hettie risked another look outside. The train was surrounded by lush green fields and tall evergreens, their needles shining in the afternoon sunlight. Once again, she jostled the window, but it refused to open. So much for that. She couldn’t see a thing anyway, and if something was wrong, she wasn’t privy to it.

Hettie turned just as the first voices reached her compartment door. Her heart jumped in her chest as a piercing howl rose up, so loud it seemed to come from right beside her. It shot through the silence, making her physically recoil, before ending as abruptly as it sounded.

Dogs didn’t sound like that. With a shudder, Hettie realized that it had been a person.

There were more voices now. First, a deep, rumbling man’s voice right outside her door. A second voice, little more than white noise muffled by the door, responded. There was a scuffle of feet and a thud against the door, a man grunting in pain before someone snapped, “Get him out of here!”

Feeling bile rise in the back of her throat, Hettie stepped away. It was no use, anyway. Whatever was going on out there, she was trapped. The room was hardly big enough for two people to sleep in, with nowhere to hide and certainly nowhere to go. If they decided to force their way in-

“Check every compartment,” a rough voice commanded. “I want a thorough search before we go.”

A beat of silence. Hettie wasn’t aware she had been holding her breath, not until it all left her in a breathless huff, her head spinning. She pressed her back against the window, feeling her pulse hammer against her ribs, wondering just what was going on but terrified to investigate.

The door jostled; a man growled. Then, the door shuddered open, squeaking on rusted hinges, and an enormous figure filled the doorway. He was tall, the swoop of his greying hair almost touching the top of the frame as he stepped inside. Although his build was slender, his fitted black shirt gave the illusion of bulk. When his eyes landed on Hettie, she realized they were a cold, slate grey.

Swallowing thickly, Hettie forced her voice to work. “Can I help you with something?”

A slow, unsettling smile spread across his lips. Despite being well-dressed, his hair short and neat, that smile turned him into something sinister. “Well miss, I believe you can. Got any valuables?”

Behind him hovered a blond man with wide shoulders and a nervous frown. “Sir? There’s a man causing a stir over in the second compartment, and I-”

“Then take care of it.” The blunt sound of his voice, the way he fixed the blond with that cruel stare, made it clear that he was the leader. The leader of… what, though?

Hettie was sure she didn’t want the answer.

When the grey-eyed man turned that unblinking gaze back to her, Hettie felt her entire body freeze.

“Nice pearls you have there.” His eyes roved across her body, lingering not on the pearls around her neck but her ample chest.

Despite wearing a simple traveling dress, that look made her feel slimy. Suddenly, she wanted a bath, just to forget the way his gaze had lingered on her.

“Got anything else in those suitcases?” the grey-haired man asked, jerking his head toward where they had fallen earlier.

“J-just books and clothes.”

“Then the pearls will do.”

He stepped forward. She stepped back. Her arm knocked against the wall, and Hettie winced but held her ground. Fear welled up inside of her, but she couldn’t give up these pearls. They had belonged to Mother, and they were the only thing of hers she had been able to take on this horrendous journey.

A deep frown marred his features and made him look even harsher than before. “Now, don’t be stupid, little girl. I’ve got ten men on this train, all armed, and we’ve already had to take out one man. Don’t think I’ll spare you.” He reached out, long fingers snapping around her wrist like a handcuff. “Give me the pearls.”

Hettie fought against his bruising grip. “They were my mother’s,” she snapped, twisting her wrist to try and grapple free. Yet he was far stronger than her, and her struggle only had him grinning in delight. Was he enjoying this? The thought made her sick, and in a moment of rage, she darted forward, sinking her teeth into the soft flesh of his hand.

With a yell, he let go, disgust twisting his features. “How dare you,” he snarled, curling his hand against his chest.

With a rush of spiteful satisfaction, Hettie saw she had drawn blood.

“I might have let you go,” he stated, voice dangerously low, “but now I’ve changed my mind..

Chapter Two

Hettie flinched back, preparing for a hit – or worse. Tears sprung to her eyes, but there was nowhere to go, nothing to do.

But the attack never came.

“Sir,” a voice murmured, and Hettie opened her eyes to see the same young bandit hovering by the doorway like a lost child. His eyes drifted to Hettie only for a moment before sliding back to his boss. “The Sheriff is here.”

Sir. Then the grey-haired man was the leader of this group. These bandits. Hettie swallowed.

The man swore. The roughness of his voice made Hettie flinch, but he was no longer interested in her. He turned his back to her, as if she were a forgotten toy, and stalked from the compartment without another word.

The blond followed dutifully after him, feet scuffing the ground.

Letting out a breath, Hettie allowed herself to sink to the floor. Her heart still thudded, her pulse roaring in her ears, but she managed a sigh of relief that made her whole body ache.

That relief lasted as long as it took to hear the first gunshot. It rang throughout the entire train, a resounding shot that left her ears ringing. Hettie scrambled to her feet with energy she didn’t know she had, a gasp leaving her lips. It had come from her left where the two men had gone.

Despite knowing better, Hettie peeked into the hall. Others had the same idea, it seemed, because all across the cabin, doors opened. Heads looked out, people murmuring between themselves. Some of the especially curious even stepped out into the hallway itself, their necks craning around…

Only to scatter as another shot pierced the silence. There were voices now too, especially the deep tenor of the grey-haired man’s shouting curses. Hettie saw him dart out of another compartment, his once slick hair now a mess around his angular face. He had a pistol held in one broad hand, sweeping it across the hallway as he searched with narrowed eyes.

That was when Hettie saw a flash of a dark sheriff’s uniform, the badge glinting in the sun. He squeezed off two shots – both missing – before ducking behind a door.

Within seconds, chaos erupted around her. People screamed, their shrillness filling the cabin. Passengers darted out of the way as more gunshots echoed – some ran back inside their rooms, some simply fled, hoping somehow to escape the confines of the train. A man fell at Hettie’s feet, his eyes wide, before he hauled himself upright and ran off toward the back of the cabin.

Hettie, frozen in place, simply stared at the scene unfolding. The young blond man had collapsed, clutching his leg. Another man grabbed his shoulder as blood seeped from between his fingers. Men poured into the hall, hollering over one another until individual words were impossible to make out. Vision obscured by the crowd, Hettie lost sight of what was happening.

As she stood there, feet rooted to the spot, it occurred to her just how lucky she was to be unhurt. Those bandits could have so easily hurt her. Or worse…

A man flew past, and she jumped, skittering aside to let him past. This man had a badge glittering on his chest. The deputy sheriff? He spared her a glance, brows furrowed, before darting along the hallway to the source of the fighting. “Everyone, stay inside your compartments!” he called, but Hettie was the only one left in the open anyway.

Eyes wide, she watched him go, and he joined the fray. Together, the sheriff and the deputy were a frightening force. Already they had taken out four bandits, the sounds of their gunshots ricocheting off the walls and echoing throughout the entire train.

Hettie felt her stomach turn as she watched the fight. Her feet refused to move, and no matter how desperately she wanted to look away, it was impossible. Eyes fixed on the sheriff and his deputy, Hettie felt her heart jolt with every shot. Each time, she expected one of them to be hit, and with each shot, her worry grew. Not for herself, because nobody seemed to even notice she was there, but for them.

Despite the worry tearing away at Hettie, it wasn’t long before the bandits knew they were losing. The grey-haired man, who had been keeping back from the worst of the fighting, sprinted down the hall with enough speed his feet skidded across the wooden floor. “Fall back,” he snarled, although he didn’t wait for his men to answer. Already he was making his escape, pushing past his own lackeys to get away. “This is a lost cause, so let’s get out of here!”

“You won’t get away with this,” the Sheriff called. The hall was too narrow and the fighting too thick, but Hettie caught the sheriff aiming his pistol at the last moment, just as the leader was about to slip away.

A gunshot, louder than the rest, shot into the hall. Hettie gasped as she saw the Sheriff stumble back, surprise flickering across his face. Someone had gotten to him first.

The distraction was enough for the leader to run, his feet pounding on the floor. His men followed – some unhurt, some bleeding, leaving smeared trails of red in their wake. One bandit shoved past Hettie. She tried to dart out of the way, but his shoulder still collided with her. He winced and hurried on, but he left a streak of blood across her sleeve.

Fighting the urge to be sick, she only watched them go.

Some of them were hurt, and the acrid smell of blood and gunpowder left a sour taste in her mouth. Swallowing, she fought down the urge to vomit. With the bandits gone, the hall was now empty, and she was the only one left standing there like an idiot.

The deputy knelt by the sheriff, but he waved the deputy’s help away. “It’s only a graze,” he snapped, peeling back his sleeve to inspect the wound. Hettie crept closer, if only to make sure he was all right, and his head turned up to look at her. He was attractive, perhaps in his late twenties, with messy blond hair and the beginnings of stubble growing on his chin. His eyes were dark, a deep brown that was almost black under the dim lights. By all accounts, he was handsome, tall and broad as he pulled himself upright, with wide shoulders and a slim waist.

“Are you all right?” Hettie asked, if only because it was the first thing she thought to say. “Those men, they tried to steal my pearls.”

“That’s what bandits do, I’m afraid.” It was the Deputy who answered, a young man with a shock of red hair and a boyish face. He looked far too young to be a Deputy Sheriff, but his smile came easily, and his eyes were kind. The deputy asked, “How about you? Were you hurt?”

“No. They tried to steal my mother’s pearls, but I wouldn’t let them.” Hettie couldn’t hold their gaze, head bowed as she played with a curl that had fallen from its bun. The Deputy was kind, but the intense stare of the Sheriff had her blushing like a schoolgirl.

The Sheriff quirked a thick brow, his dark eyes judging. “That was dangerous. You should have just given them up.” He stretched out his shoulder, wincing as the joint cracked. Blood trickled down his forearm, but he didn’t seem bothered by it.

Hettie felt annoyance rise in her chest. “They were my mother’s, and I wasn’t going to give them to some disgusting thief.” Arms folded, she scowled at them both. Although her parents had always taught her to be respectful of authority, she had also been taught to stand her ground, especially over things that mattered. “Anyway, I wasn’t hurt.”

“You could have been,” the Sheriff snapped. “Worse, even. People like them have no care of human life. Given the chance, they’d have shot you for those valuables.”

Hettie saw his name badge shimmer in the light. Pruitt. Funny, that was the name of her fiancé, the man she came all the way here to marry. As soon as the thought popped into her mind, Hettie was speechless. Her chest jumped, surprise rolling through her. Could it be…? Her lips parted, the question on her tongue, but she never had the chance to say a word.

Sheriff Pruitt cut in with, “You’re a brave woman, standing up to them like that, yet naive. You’re lucky we arrived when we did.”

A few people had risked peeking their heads from their rooms now. Likely curious now that the fighting had ceased, they wanted to know what was going on. Hettie couldn’t blame them, and besides, it gave her an excuse to move away from the Sheriff and his Deputy.

“Will the train continue its journey now that they’re gone?” she questioned, “I’m sure these people want to be on their way. I know I do.” A pause, her brows furrowing. “I’m supposed to be meeting with the sheriff of Hollow.”

“That would be me.” His expression softened, confusion flickering over his eyes. “Are you Henrietta?”

It should have clicked sooner, in all honesty. Hettie had no idea they were so close to Hollow already, hadn’t realized that tall, handsome man was her fiancé. When it finally clicked, the realization hit her like a physical force. He was even lovelier to look at than she had imagined.

“Sir, we should-”

“Jack, can you give us a minute alone? Go and check on the other passengers, please.”

The Deputy, his badge told Hettie, was Deputy Coffee. Jack Coffee. He nodded, shooting the Sheriff an understanding smile, before turning to address the frightened passengers. He gently began ushering people back into their cabins, murmuring reassurances as he went.

Pruitt – no, his name was Vincent – ran a hand through his thick hair. “You need to be more careful. What if I hadn’t arrived in time? You could have been killed.”

Turning her head toward her own compartment, she gestured for him to come inside. It was still a mess, with her books sprawled across the spare bed and her suitcases lying in the middle of the room. She sat anyway, nudging the suitcases out of the way with her feet. “I know it was silly of me,” she replied with a frown, “but I wasn’t thinking. One moment I was alone and the next…”

“You were frightened,” he replied gruffly. He wasn’t anything like his letters made him out to be. The Vince Pruitt she had seen in those letters had been kind, if unsure. Straight to the point, but never cruel in his bluntness. He had wanted a wife mostly for his daughter who had no mother. Someone to care for his beloved little girl while he worked long hours at his important job. For her, it was about the security and the chance to live a quiet life somewhere peaceful. And about money, of course, although Hettie didn’t like to say so for fear of sounding selfish.

The Vince Pruitt she saw now was dour, his arms folded stiffly as he stared out of the dirty window. “The train will continue its journey once we ensure everyone is safe,” he said coolly. “Until then, may I suggest you stay inside your cabin?”

“There isn’t anywhere else to go,” Hettie replied instantly. She matched his glare with one of her own, her bright blue eyes narrowed. Sweeping long black hair over her shoulder, she tucked her legs onto the bed, boots still on, and rested her back against the wall. “I’ll wait,” she concluded with a sigh. “I’m sorry for causing you trouble.”

Vince pursed his lips, unconvinced by her apology. Yet, he shrugged, unwilling to push the matter, and strode to the door. “The bandits got away, but at least you’re unhurt. I hope we can say the same for everybody else.” With that, he stepped into the hall, closing her compartment door behind him.

Letting out a heavy breath, Hettie all but collapsed against the wall. It was cool against her skin, somewhat soothing the headache that had started to thump at the back of her skull. A part of her didn’t truly believe that it was over – she half expected the door to fly open, revealing more dirtied bandits in the hall. Of course, the door stayed shut and the train remained quiet, and it was only her own paranoia causing trouble.

It was a long while before the train shuddered back to life. When it did, Hettie was almost soothed by the rhythmic hum of it jumping into motion. Soon enough she would be in Hollow, settling into her new life with Vince Pruitt. The thought made her anxieties rise, only partially soothed by the knowledge the train was once again moving. He was handsome, certainly, but meeting him had caused doubts to surface. Had she made a mistake, coming here? Was it too much to hope that her new life was the idyllic lifestyle she wanted?

Eventually, worn out from the worry, Hettie let her head fall onto the soft pillow of the cabin bed. Yet even as she drifted off, those worries clung to the back of her mind. Somehow, she managed to drift off into a restless doze.

What felt like seconds later, she was gently nudged awake, bleary eyes blinking open. The train was at a standstill, and outside she was met not with nature, but a dark train station.

She was here.

***

Henrietta wasn’t what Vince had expected. She had held her own against bandits, which was far more than most men could handle. On the other hand, she was soft, too, in the gentle flush of her slender cheeks and the shy smile that graced her features.

He should have been annoyed at her for the way she acted, risking her life for a pearl necklace. It struck a chord, though, when she mentioned her deceased mother. Vince valued family above all else, and thus he understood the desire to keep the pearls close.

“The bandits got away,” he sighed, “but at least you’re unhurt. I hope we can say the same for everybody else.” He offered a smile, something he didn’t do too often, and leaned heavily against the wall.

Henrietta stared at the ceiling with tired eyes, and he couldn’t blame her. The journey wasn’t over yet, though, and he thought it best to let her rest. She was pretty when she was relaxed; her dark hair spilled over her shoulder, having come loose from its bun, and her cheeks were perpetually tinted a lovely pink. Not a flush, but a natural color that made her look vibrant. He had never seen her before, not even in a photograph, and Vince found himself enjoying the curl of her dark hair and the slender slope of her jawline. He had tried to avoid picturing Henrietta before now, not knowing what she looked like, but she was more beautiful than anything he could have imagined.

Shaking his head, Vince let out a sigh. Although it pained him to leave her, he had duties to attend to as the Sheriff. Duties he could not avoid. “Please, rest. I have to attend to the other passengers.” His gaze lingered a moment before he turned, offering her a reassuring smile. “Rest.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Henrietta admitted, but already her eyes looked heavy.

“It will do you a world of good,” he murmured, “and I will be back as soon as possible.” Slipping outside, Vince made sure to close the door behind him. The danger was over, but the dull throb in his arm was a reminder of what could have happened. He felt safer knowing that Henrietta was tucked away out of sight.

Jack met him in the narrow corridor. His eyes were somber, but he brightened upon seeing him. “So, Henrietta. I didn’t even realize this was the same train.”

“Neither did I,” he admitted, feeling a rush of embarrassment. “I should have realized it was Henrietta’s.” He knew she preferred Hettie, but calling her something so informal when they had only spoken through letters… it felt wrong, somehow. Too personal. Perhaps it was hypocritical, considering he insisted everyone call him Vince.

She wasn’t entirely what he had expected, either, although he couldn’t quite figure out if he enjoyed that or not. Henrietta was a spitfire, determined and stubborn, but he saw kindness there, too. Bravery in how she refused to give up her mother’s favorite pearls. Henrietta wasn’t the shy, demure woman he had expected, and he found himself intrigued.

Breaking him from his thoughts, Jack gestured to the rooms further down the cabin. “Nobody got hurt, thank God, although the children got quite the scare. Everyone’s fine.”

“We were so close,” Vince muttered, a scowl forming on his rugged face. It was his fault they got away, for being reckless enough to get shot. The pain, which had started to numb by now, was a reminder of that.

“We’ll get them,” Jack reassured, “but for now, you need to focus on yourself and your new fiancée.”

Jack was right. The deputy was wise beyond his young years, and Vince was thankful for having him around. His mind drifted back to Henrietta, still unsure of what to think of her. Would they get along? They hadn’t gotten off on good footing, which only made his nerves rise. Shaking his head, he addressed Jack. “I’ll take her home as soon as we get into the station. Can you take care of the rest?”

“Of course,” he replied.

Moments later, the train shuddered into action, the chug of the engine filling the silence. Now that they were on the move again, it was a good sign that things were over. For now.

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