Fleeing West to the Cowboy’s Heart (Preview)

Chapter One

Boston, 1884

“She can’t do this Addie. She won’t! I’m not going anywhere, let alone out West to marry a man I’ve never even seen. He’s probably old enough to be my father. Or my grandfather! There’s no way that it’s happening.” Nora burst off the bed. Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, she began to pace around the bedroom they shared, shoes scraping over the wooden floorboards.

Adeline Finch rose from the bed where she’d been sitting beside her sister to read their aunt’s letter. Adeline had written over three weeks ago, after they laid their mother to rest, and she’d waited in agony for a response.

Her hand trembled, causing the page with the aggressively spiked handwriting to flutter so violently that she was glad to set it down. Her hands kept shaking, so she hid them behind her back as she approached her sister.

How was it possible for her to make Nora see sense in an arrangement that she didn’t believe in herself? Hitting her younger sister with the cold, hard truth of life so soon after their mother’s passing wasn’t kind, but what else was there to do?

Addie’s heart wrenched.. Her ever-present grief was quickly followed by a sharper burst of anger. “Aunt Margie is our legal guardian for at least another year.” Addie took Nora’s hand. Though the heat of summer pressed down on the city, Nora’s fingers were icy. “The house is already sold. We only have another week before we have to be out.”

She’d read the letter out loud, but maybe she should have prepared Nora first. Addie honestly hadn’t expected their aunt—however much of a black sheep she was considered in the family at one time—to deny them a place in her house, then turn them out on their own. It was even more shocking when she’d reached the part about the arrangements made for Nora’s marriage more than two thousand miles away in Montana.

Nora’s pale blue eyes flooded with tears. All throughout their mother’s illness, she’d been so brave, but now the cracks of deep stress and even deeper sadness were breaking through her fiercely hopeful façade.

“She’s selling the house to pay her vile son’s debts.” Nora tore her arm away and gestured wildly. “We’ve already sold so much over the years just to survive.” Her throat bobbed as she swallowed back her tears loudly. “Let Aunt Margie go and live on the street!” Nora stormed to the window and stared out, shoulders heaving. “Why should she be able to turn us out of our own home? Why should she have any say at all? Why did any of this have to happen, especially now?”

Addie felt the same way. Deep down, she wanted to accuse their aunt of caring more for money than she did for them. The whole city of Boston knew that their cousin, George Johnson, was good for one thing only, which was spending the night losing one small fortune after another gambling.

Over the years, she’d put pieces of her aunt’s life together. She’d married a man against her father’s wishes, who turned out to be no good. He’d run up a host of debts and promptly died on her, leaving her with a son and two infant daughters to care for. Addie wasn’t even sure how her aunt managed over the years, but she remembered a day years ago, when her aunt suddenly appeared at their home, begging Addie’s mother for money to pay her son’s debts.

It was the worst kind of misfortune that their mother fell ill and passed before Addie was twenty-one. She’d gone last week to speak to the solicitors, only to find that legally, there was nothing to be done. The house and everything in it belonged to Aunt Margie. They had no other living relatives.

Cautiously, Addie edged to the window, approaching Nora cautiously. She wasn’t a fragile person, but seeing the stubborn set of her jaw, her rigid stance, and her bowed shoulders, she looked like a porcelain doll about to shatter into a thousand pieces.

Addie was tall and slim herself, but next to Nora, she felt like a giant. She wrapped her arms around her sister and rested her chin against the crown of Nora’s pale gold curls. She inhaled the scent of roses and sunshine that seemed to always cling to her.

“It’s unfair, but there’s nothing to be done. We’re lucky that Aunt Margie is allowing us to take some of Mama’s things, as well as our dresses with us. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but people have been turned from their houses with nothing more than the clothes on their back. We’re leaving this house, it’s true, but we’re not destitute. We’ll always have our memories, no matter how far we travel.”

Nora angled her face, a nasty sneer turning up her lips in a way that Addie had never seen. The hair stood up on the backs of her arms.

“That’s fine for you to say,” Nora snapped. “You’re not the one marrying a stranger. Knowing Aunt Margie, she’d pick the most vile man to pawn me off on. Why not you? You’re the older sister.”

A brutal gasp tore from Addie’s throat and echoed though the quiet room. She held her sister tightly, but only because she’d gone so numb that she couldn’t force herself to move.

A moment later, Nora sighed so hard that she wilted against Addie. She turned, tipping Addie’s face up with her cold fingers.

“I’m sorry. I should never have said that.” Her eyes brimmed with tears that quickly spilled over in silvery tracks down her pale cheeks, dribbling over her jaw and splashing onto her plain black dress. “You were right here through Mama’s illness. It was us against the finality of what was coming. You might dream about Paris and lose yourself in your stories, but you’ve never lied to me about anything, not even the hardest parts of life. You’ve never kept me ignorant of the world, and at the same time, you’ve done all that you can to protect me. I know why it was me. I’m young and have no ambitions for a career. I was always the daughter that everyone knew was going to be a wife and a mother. I’m the biddable, happy, sweet, stupid girl who people assume doesn’t have a thought in her head because I have a beautiful face.”

“I’m coming with you,” Addie said vehemently. “To Montana.”

“What? You can’t! What about Europe?”

“France can wait. If you’re going out West, then so am I. Montana is so new that I don’t even know if the railroad goes all the way there, or where it would stop. We’d have to get a coach or find someone to take us the rest of the way. I certainly won’t let you travel alone, and I would never let you marry someone vile. If by some chance, out of the scrap of kindness that’s still left somewhere inside her heart, Aunt Margie chose you a good, God fearing man who you could fall in love with and who would protect, honor, and treasure you, I’d like to see you married and safe before I decide what comes next for me.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Nora insisted. She sniffled loudly. “You’d be spending the money you’ve worked so hard to save.”

Addie shook her head. “There is no way I’m going to let you travel more than two thousand miles alone.”

“You just don’t want me to have all the adventures.” Nora forced a smile, trying to summon some of her usual radiance. “Rough living, wild land, the great unknown.” She spread her hands like a painter. “It’s everything that you dream about for your stories. I know it’s not exactly what you want to write, but you can’t tell me that all that adventure wouldn’t be informative.”

“You don’t have to convince me.”

Addie guided them both back to the bed. She stroked the worn wooden post at the foot, trying to commit the exact smoothness to memory. Her hands traced the light green floral quilt as well. Their mother put so much time into making their house a home. She wasn’t just a great seamstress, she’d made the drapes at the windows, and all the covers for their beds. “I’ll be at your side for as long as you want me there. That’s my vow. I’m swearing it to you. We thought we’d have many years with Mama yet, but that’s the thing about plans. They never work out how they’re supposed to.”

“We could just leave. Both of us go to Europe.”

If only. There was no use thinking of it. The if only’s would be so numerous, they would fill up all of Boston. “I don’t even have enough money saved for me to go myself.”

“We could sell things before Aunt Margie gets her hands on them.”

Addie was surprised by Nora’s sudden devious streak. Her knees rustled loudly in the stiff fabric of the black dress she’d had to unpack from her wardrobe and air out. It had an unused feel, an unwelcome air, even though it smelled of lavender and her own rosewater scent.

“Even still, we wouldn’t have nearly enough. We’ve lived humbly all these years. We didn’t need luxury to make us happy. You’re right that Montana will be a grand adventure.”

Nora’s bottom lip trembled as the reality of their situation set in fully. “You said I don’t have to marry him if I don’t want to.”

“You don’t.”

“But what will we do if we get there and it’s horrible?”

“We’ll find a way.” Their mother had, after their father passed when they were both barely old enough to remember him. “We’ll use my savings to get a room until we can find some kind of work. We’ll never match Mama’s skill, but we can both sew. We can do mending. We can wash. In time, I might even be able to sell some of my writing and support us that way. I could maybe even teach school. There are probably scores of jobs and endless opportunities in the West that we don’t have out here because there aren’t enough people to do all the work that needs to be done.”

Nora’s face took on that dreamy look she sometimes got, where all bad things in the world didn’t exist unless she said they could. “You could write about our adventures. People would want to read it back here. They’d be utterly fascinated. Imagine having your novels in shops! I think more people would read them because you’re a woman, if you were writing about the Wild West. People can’t get enough of it as it is, but it’s always the same perspective. Yours would be different.”

“Hmm,” Addie mused, thinking about Nora’s outlandish idea despite herself. Yes, she wanted to be a writer, and she was the one always making up wild stories to entertain Nora, but it wasn’t true that she’d ever allowed herself a dream that wasn’t also rooted in hard reality.

Addie turned and threw her arms around Nora. Her sister clung to her, shoulders shaking, sniffling as her tears fell. She’d seen women in mourning before and had always thought, not unkindly, that the way people talked about their harsh black attire resembling crows to be true. She clung to her sister, two black birds with stiff feathers and bowed heads. Addie was forced to be brave always or at least find a brave angle and make a stand on it. She needed to do that more than anything.

“Thank you for believing in me.” Addie finally said. Nora might be the only person in the whole world who truly understood her.

“Thank you for offering to come with me so I don’t have to face this alone.”

“You’re not alone. Not ever.” Addie swiped the tears from Nora’s cheeks, then framed her beautiful face with her hands. “We have no family but each other now, and wherever I am, you’ll always be the sister of my heart.”

Nora snorted. “Aunt Margie is technically family. The kind that made this arrangement to get rid of us, not because she cares one whit for us.”

Addie held her sister close, smoothing her hair. “That may or may not be true, but from here on out, we’re writing our own story.” Her arms tightened protectively around Nora. “You and me both.”

Chapter Two

Montana, 1884

“Gosh, Luke, it’s pretty out here.”

Lydia was just trying to draw him into conversation. She knew him well enough to recognize when he was brooding and wanted to pull him out of it as soon as possible.

He’d been in an awful mood ever since they’d left the ranch nine days earlier, when they’d set out for Copper Lake. They’d traveled past, and sometimes even through, thickly wooded spruce forests, over rolling plains, past great rivers and the smallest streams alike. The Mullen Pass bisected the Rocky Mountains. They were friendly outcroppings, heavily wooded and green, not the great, austere, snowcapped blue peaks that he’d once seen when his father took him as a boy to buy cattle and drive them back to their ranch.

These mountains reminded him of home. Wise old parts of the earth that looked down on them and ensured that the land thrived between them. Their valley was temperate enough, with sparkling blue streams aplenty, and grass as thick and lush as any forest. The winds were mostly kind there, warm and temperate in the spring and summer, crisp and biting in the winter, but always so clean.

“Looks about the same as the ranch does, Lydia,” he retorted, but not unkindly.

Made sense, given that despite their travels, they shared the same boundaries of Montanna Territory. Then again, the land was vast and ever changing.

Lydia adjusted her hat, tipping it forward so that it shaded her from the hot sun bearing down on them from the cloudless sky. She wore a Stetson, same as he did. Being the only girl in a family of boys and growing up on a ranch, it was mostly split skirts, broad brimmed practical hats, and sturdy boots for his sister. She didn’t own a single fancy dress. The one she’d been working on for months—her wedding dress, packed safely in her trunk in the back of the wagon—was the one exception.

They’d been lucky to have nice weather so far, but there were some days that Luke would have preferred whipping wind and a cool rain over sweltering up on the wagon seat.

“You’re going to say that if I like it so much out here, I should have just stayed where I was and saved us all the trouble, seeing as it looks the same as the ranch.”

“I’m happy that you’re happy,” Luke ground out. He adjusted the reins in his hands and looked over his shoulder at Lydia’s horses trailing behind the wagon. “That’s all I ever wanted for you.” Even if it meant that she’d be far from home.

He still held out a ridiculously small grain of hope that Lydia might change her mind. Not about Maxwell and the wedding, but about where they lived. She could be persuasive. If she didn’t like Maxwell’s land and Copper Lake, then she’d have no trouble voicing her concerns to Maxwell. If Lydia was truly unhappy, Maxwell would uproot himself, sell his land, quit the mine, and go back to working as a hand. At least, that had been Luke’s private hope. But then, he didn’t want his sister to be unhappy. He’d been fighting with himself about it since long before leaving the ranch.

He knew it was a hope in vain. When Lydia set her mind to something, she could be about as stubborn as he was.

They lapsed into comfortable silence and Luke thought about the man he was taking his sister to marry. Maxwell hired on with the ranch two years before. He was a hard worker, a fast learner, and one of the most capable hands that Luke ever had the pleasure of knowing. He was a good man, quiet and calm, steadfast and honest. Luke couldn’t have picked a better husband for his younger sister and was pleased when love grew between them. He just wished that Maxwell would have been content to work for him forever, and that he hadn’t let dreams of striking his fortune in the newly opened mine in the aptly named fledgling town of Copper Lake, take him so far away.

Lydia had a wagon full of furniture to bring with her for her to set up house with Maxwell. The train would have taken it all, including her two horses, but after their parents died, Luke promised himself as the oldest, even if only by a few minutes, that he’d look out for his siblings.

To him, that meant delivering Lydia safely to Maxwell himself.

“You’d be happy to say no more than two words a day if you had your way,” Lydia quipped, nudging him in the side with her elbow. “Tell me about your horses again.”

She already knew everything. All his dreams. He wasn’t closed off with his family the way he was with people outside of it, but it was true that he saw no harm in solitude. He never needed many words to work adeptly with his brothers. They’d all been in a saddle since they were old enough to walk, and they worked together as a unit, without the need for verbal communication most of the time.

“I know Pa would have told you that you were wasting your time with the horses when we make our living on cattle, but I love that you’re interested in racing,” Lydia said. “You know everything about every kind of horse.” It wasn’t true, but she spoke with such pride that it sent a warm glow through Luke. “Pa thought a horse was made for working, and the better one was at it, the more harmonious the relationship between a man and his mount was, but that’s where it ended with him. He’d have thought you were insane, sending all the way overseas for Arabians and trying to breed them with thoroughbreds or quarter horses, or thinking that an Appaloosa could ever be used for races.”

“It’s true that to Pa, a horse was a horse. It was a smart horse, a fast horse, a good horse, a bad-tempered beast, or completely unbreakable and there wasn’t much else.”

A sudden scream flashed through the air, resounding off the gently swelling slopes around them.

Lydia started and grasped Luke’s arm. The horses nickered and tossed their heads uneasily. Behind the wagon, Lydia’s horses balked, jerking at their ropes. Luke halted the team immediately.

“Was it a mountain lion?” Lydia asked, her dark eyes wide, scanning their surroundings nervously. Though the thick woods didn’t start for some way up the mountainside, they were hemmed in, and it was still close enough to get ambushed by a wild animal. But in broad daylight, on a well-traveled pass, with the railroad cutting right through the area? It didn’t seem likely.

A second scream, louder, clearer than the first, sent a shiver chasing up his spine. His heart pulsed in his chest. Lydia’s eyes met his.

They knew what that sound was.

Luke spurred the reluctant team on. Up ahead, the trail twisted, bending out of sight. He figured that they couldn’t be more than a mile behind the trouble. The horses tossed their heads, stomping and straining nervously, but they were a well-trained team and they fell in line at his gentle commands.

He was much more nervous about the horses in the back, but Lydia kept her head turned, speaking gentle words of assurance to calm them.

He would have loved to be wrong about what they’d find, but as they rounded the bend in the trail, the sight of a coach far up ahead, overturned on its side, one wheel broken, the other three pointing to the woods, churned his gut.

He halted the team and passed the reins to Lydia. Their mother might have insisted on trying to turn his sister into somewhat of a lady, but it had never stopped her from becoming an accomplished rider. She handled the team with as much confidence as he did.

“Hold them steady,” he instructed as he climbed down. “I’m going to see if anyone’s alive.” He had his doubts, with the way the coach looked to have overturned so violently. They’d heard screams, but they’d faded away, leaving only ominous quiet. He didn’t want to pull up any closer and have Lydia see things that would haunt her for the rest of her life.

He broke into a run, his boots pounding, heart thundering even louder in his ears. His clothes were already stuck to his body from hours in the hot sun.

Up close, the only carnage appeared to be the coach itself, and a few trunks busted open, an array of brightly colored clothing and goods spilled over the ground. He allowed himself the smallest gulp of air, but he couldn’t let himself know any real relief.

His eyes strayed past the coach, to two small, huddled figures hunkered down near a horse laid flat out on its side. They were both dressed in blue, like the sky had dropped down to the earth. One was taller, though her head was bowed. She was shaking violently, but despite that, she kept her arm wrapped tightly around the smaller figure, shielding her with her body. Her other hand traced along the neck of the injured horse, trying to soothe the beast. The poor beast was still in its harness. It was tangled from thrashing but looked to have spent the last of its energy. Flecks of foam dotted its lips and its eye rolled madly while its sleek, jet-black coat heaved and fell.

Luke spotted the broken leg immediately. It was the end for the poor creature. In all his life, Luke never got used to something dying, let alone dying ugly. He was far too sensitive for his own good and he knew it.

At the sound of his footsteps, the taller woman turned her head. Her eyes were the same striking color as her dress, the color of the sky above them, even red rimmed and washed with tears. They widened in alarm for a brief second but then flared with something far worse. Hope.

“Can you help us?”

Her face might have been smeared in dirt, and pale as sour milk below that, but it did nothing to detract from her stark beauty. Her hair was a wild mane of tangled auburn tresses, but still, the sun caught the spun gold in it. Her full lips trembled, and Luke quickly tore his eyes away from them, tracing up to her forehead where dark blood was crusted along her hairline.

The air rushed out of his lungs.

He quickly did a perusal of the other figure. She didn’t turn to face him, her golden head bent, but he was relieved to see her shoulders rising and falling with even breaths.

“Sir? Would you be able to help us?” the woman repeated tremulously.

Luke’s eyes shot back to hers. Her dirt encrusted hands never stopped moving along the horse’s neck, caressing it methodically.

“I can help you.” Luke said, clearing his throat roughly. He edged closer and offered his hand. The weight of his pistol at his hip burned through him, his stomach twisted and leaden.

He could tell by the shadow in her eyes that she knew that the only kind of help he could offer was a quick end to the pain.

“There were two,” she whispered, her words slightly slurred around the edges. How hard had she hit her head? “The driver; he… after the coach overturned on the corner… he got up like nothing had happened. He didn’t help us. We were jostled around, but we’re unhurt for the most part. I checked. Nothing broken and no pain inside.”

Luke finally allowed his lungs to contract in a hard rush of air. Even if she had hit her head, she clearly had her wits about her. They were miles from help. More than miles. Days.

“The driver was drunk, I think. He wreaked like it when we got on the coach, and I didn’t like it, but we didn’t have much of a choice.” Her lips flattened into a thin, angry line. “He cut the other horse out of its harness, and I thought he meant to ride off for help, but the horse bucked and got away. The driver looked right at me. I was trying to crawl out and help my sister. I called to him, but he turned and ran. It’s been nearly an hour, or longer.” She winced and took her hand off the horse just long enough to press her fingers into her eyes. “Maybe not so long. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do.” Fresh tears tracked down her cheeks. “I… I always know what to do. My mother, our mother, she died. We’re… I have to… to look after my sister. It’s just us now.”

She studied him pleadingly, her eyes cutting through him faster than a thousand knives ever could. He felt flayed open with her confusion, her pain, her fear.

“We have a wagon,” he heard himself say, though his head felt filled with fog. “Let me help. My sister’s there. You don’t have to worry about anything now. Do you think you can walk?” He cursed himself for being brusque, even if taking charge was what he needed to do. “Miss?”

“Adeline,” she breathed, voice wobbling. “I’m Adeline, and this is my sister Nora.”

Luke forced a smile for them, trying to be encouraging. “Adeline. Do you think you can both make it to our wagon if I help you?”

“What… what about the horse?” Her cornflower blue eyes flicked down to the injured animal. “We can’t just leave him. He’s hurt. But we… he… our mother, you see.” Her hands shifted and she stroked her sister’s flaxen hair, pulling her tightly against her.

Luke did see.

They’d been through enough. More than enough.

“Let me help you, ” he repeated. “I’ll come back for the horse. He won’t be alone, I promise.”

They’d hear the gunshot. They’d know. They knew already. They were no strangers to death. Living and dying were the two inescapable facts of life.

He stepped closer and held out his hand. “I’m Luke,” he said, voice rough with emotion.

Her small hand finally left the horse. “Adeline,” she repeated, her voice so thin he barely heard her.

She tried to get her feet under her and tug her sister up at the same time, but she faltered.

Luke surged forward, extending his arm so that she could grasp onto something solid. She flailed and almost by chance, her fingers wrapped around his forearm. He had his shirtsleeves rolled up to try and alleviate some of the heat. Her hand was cold, but somehow her touch still scalded through him.

It reminded him of another lifetime; one he’d chosen to bury deep down into the hole that had been torn clean through the middle of him. Stuff it down and forget.

He grunted in pain as though he’d been branded. The woman got to her feet and quickly withdrew, giving him an apologetic look.

He winced. She thought that she’d hurt him. What a fool he was. She’d been through enough already.

“Do you think you can make it to the wagon? It’s aways back, but I can help you.”

“Nora?” The woman asked her sister, angling her sister’s face up to her.

Luke was struck by the younger woman’s beauty, so completely different from her sister’s. Her features were almost dainty, her skin creamy. Her eyes were huge, her cheekbones high, her lips bow shaped. She had the look of a doll, and one that might be easily shattered.

Adeline’s beauty was less refined, but more striking for it. She had an inner strength, iron in her blood and spine that shone from her. She’d pulled herself and her sister from an overturned coach and sat next to a dying animal, trying to give everyone comfort while taking none for herself. They both wore dresses, that as far as he’d ever seen, were far fancier than what most folks around these parts could afford to don. Even filthy and torn, they looked to be made of a soft fabric with a delicate sheen, that he doubted could even be found in these parts. He knew how silly that was. Folks just didn’t wear the kind of thing that made work impossible, and the cost would likely prohibit most women from being able to acquire the fabric in the first place.

Why was he thinking about dresses when he needed to focus on everything else?

“It’s not far,” Adeline coaxed her sister. “We’ll make it. We’ll be just fine now.”

“I…” Nora whimpered, turning to her sister. “I…don’t know. I’m cold, Addie.”

Addie. . He turned the name over in his mind for a brief second, savoring the sound of it like a fool before he remembered himself. Luke’s chest tightened.

“Let me help?” he asked waiting for Addie’s permission.

She bit down on her bottom lip so hard that it reddened violently before she nodded.

Nora’s eyes shot to his. They were much paler than her sister’s, a frosty blue bordering on gray. Maybe she was well after all, just shaken up and in shock from the whole terrible incident.

“That would be quite nice of you,” Nora said. She had one of those voices that just seemed to shimmer. “I’m not sure that I can walk. My legs are all shaky and feel like water every time I try to take a step.”

Luke scooped Nora up. She immediately rested her head against his shoulder, but her hand shot out, searching for Addie. Addie’s fingers were encrusted with dirt, her nails broken as though she’d had to claw her way out of the wrecked coach. She grasped Nora’s fingers and held them tightly, falling into step beside Luke, who purposefully slowed his pace.

After a moment, he figured he should say something to put the women at ease, though he was darned if he could figure out what. He wished he wasn’t so impossibly awkward. If it were one of his brothers, they’d know what to say. Especially his twin, Caleb. Words had never been a problem for him. It was as though one of them had been born with language, and the other devoid of it. Luke was older by a few minutes. Maybe that alone was his gift.

“Where abouts are you from?” he settled on asking, hoping it wasn’t too intrusive.

“Boston,” Addie whispered, the word leaving her mouth like it tasted of ash.

He knew the feeling. Not so long ago, his entire life had been reduced to ashes in front of his eyes, taking his heart and nearly his soul with it.

“I don’t know why we didn’t just take the railway. I suppose that maybe I had the idea that I didn’t want to arrive announced and have… certain people know about us getting there. I thought for sure that there’s be someone watching. Although, I do suppose that was the point of us coming to begin with. I thought that if we arrived by stage, we could… that is… we might be able to ask around about our new home or see the town for ourselves first. The railway was the obvious choice, but I guess people would have talked and word would have got around no matter what we did. It all seems so foolish now. This isn’t an adventure It’s our life.”

Adeline rambled, serious at first, then growing more mortified. Luke tried to follow what she was saying. His eyes strayed to the path in front of him, but for the most part, he had to admit that he was watching Addie. He could hardly tear his eyes from her.

Looking at her was as captivating as staring at the sun. He had no right to tip his face toward that warmth, expecting any sort of blessing or kindness, when he knew just how badly he could be burned, and how torturous it was to scrape an existence out of the ashes after.

“It’s all going to be okay,” Addie mumbled beside him.

He realized that she was talking to Nora, patting her hand as she walked.

“I know it’s all gone so wrong since we’ve been out here, but it’s so beautiful. So vast. Nothing and everything like we thought it would be. We can bear some trouble, but I do wish it would come to an end. Something good will happen soon. We’re ready for it. I know it. It has to.” Her voice trembled and trailed off, as though her strength was wearing thin.

Shock manifested itself differently for different people. He wanted to get both women to the wagon as soon as possible, keeping his pace steady so Addie could plod on beside him.

As soon as he rounded the bend and came within sight of the wagon, Lydia sprinted toward them. Her dark braid flapped behind her, her skirts flying. She stumbled once, nearly tripped and fell over her own feet. He heard the tear of fabric, but it didn’t slow her down.

She came up quick, panting, eyes wide and worried. “What’s happened?”

He quickly filled her in on the coach overturning, the driver fleeing, and the injured horse. He walked them to the shade of the wagon and set Nora down. Addie sank onto the grass, pulling her sister to her. Lydia buzzed around them, offering water and visually assessing them for injuries.

“I’m going to see to the horse, and gather up what I can of their things,” he told his sister, casting a furtive glance at the two women. He gave his head a brief shake and Lydia bowed hers in understanding They were alone in the world, it seemed. What they’d brought with them might be all they had. “This isn’t a good spot to make camp, but as soon as we find some water, we’ll stop for the day.”

“I’ll care for them,” Lydia promised.

Luke knew she would. His sister had a soft heart, full of tenderness and compassion. She’d know what to say. She’d find the words he couldn’t.

He forced himself not to look back once he started down the trail again. There was plenty of suffering in his past, and more just up ahead. He’d face it, as he always had; bury the pain and find strength to carry on. What other choice did he have, with a ranch, his brothers, his sister, and now two strangers relying on him?