Prologue

Shreveport, Louisiana

May 2, 1882

Leta Smith swung her legs back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, watching the river water rush beneath her bare feet. Her boots sat drying in the sun, years of wear and tear evident in the frayed laces and worn soles.

She was honestly surprised the soles hadn’t popped right off yet; Henry and Jack had made them with her seven years ago, and they’d weathered every winter storm and every dusty, wickedly hot summer day since then. There was no rest for the weary on this ranch—especially when she was running it virtually alone.

Henry, the longtime foreman of the Smiths’ ranch, could only do so much with his age, and Jack—her grandfather—had long since passed his prime, especially with his recent bought of memory challenges. It was up to Leta to scoop the manure, replace the bedding, tote the feed buckets in and out of storage, gather up the heifers and the bull calves for branding, assist when the cows had trouble calving, shoot the coyotes when they came after the newborns…. Leta got a headache just thinking about how much she had to do on a daily basis.

You’d think a 20-year-old would be immune to back pain, she thought, rubbing her lower back. The soreness had returned at the memory of moving hay bales that morning.

Today was one of those rare days where Leta finished work early and had nothing to do but enjoy the river. It had always been her favorite spot to relax, right under the ancient water oak that she’d climbed as a young child.

Leta smiled, remembering when she and her brother, Brian, had swung from the branches and into the river, only to be washed a mile downstream. Her parents had spent hours in a panic as they tried to rescue them, but Leta and her brother were having the time of their lives. It wasn’t like they couldn’t swim!

Her parents, David and Sophia, hadn’t expected Leta to be able to swim, to be fair. Leta was raised as all girls were—to take care of the house, do the chores that needed to be done, and care for the men. Leta’s older brother, however, had no qualms about sneaking off with her to reenact ancient sword fights in the stories their father told them, teach her how to shoot a gun, or take her fishing in the river at every chance they got.

She was raised as a girl, but she had the strength of character that the world demanded in boys.

“Leta?”

She startled violently, yanked out of her thoughts. “Henry! I thought you were restocking the barn.”

“I finished early. Thought I might enjoy dipping my toes in the water, too.”

Henry removed his hat from his balding head and sat next to Leta on the riverbank. His browned, toned arms finally relaxed as he dipped his toes in the water. The wrinkles on his wind-burnt face seemed to deepen in the shadows, reminding Leta of his age.

Henry had come to work for her grandfather as a boy and had never left. He became foreman during her father’s time on the ranch, and now, he was all Leta had left. All the other ranch hands had been let go, one by one, until she could barely afford to pay Henry anymore.

Leta sat in silence with her foreman. She stared at her reflection in the water. With her long, blonde hair and sun-kissed, freckled cheeks, she looked so much like her father it was painful. The only reminder of her mother was her eyes. Green eyes, so much like Sophia’s, blinked wearily at her. Their shine had long been replaced by a sheen of exhaustion.

Leta kicked her feet under the water to scatter her reflection, her heart sinking as she remembered a crucial detail about her foreman.

“Henry, you hate the water. Especially the Red River. What’s going on?”

He lowered his head, sighing in defeat. “I should have known better than to lay it on softly. You’re no fool, Leta.”

“You’re retiring, aren’t you?” Leta said, observing the weary expression that deepened the lines on his forehead.

“I always told Jack his granddaughter was the sharpest knife in the drawer.” Henry chuckled, flashing Leta a fond smile. “I didn’t want to startle you, but I guess there’s no way to lay this on softly. You figured me out, as you always do.”

He ruffled Leta’s hair, eliciting a smile from her. It quickly became a sad smile, however, when she realized what this meant for the ranch. Henry was the last worker she had; there was no way she could keep up with the work without his help.

Leta hid the panic tightening her chest as she tried to come to terms with losing the ranch…as well as the man who had practically raised her.

“I’ll be going back to California,” Henry explained. “Some of my siblings are still out there. I might be able to meet my nieces and nephews after all these years.”

“You deserve the best retirement a man can get,” Leta said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts.

“I’ll miss you, you know,” Henry said, taking Leta’s hand and covering it with both of his. “I hope you’ll write. I’d love to hear the wonderful stories you’ll have to tell.”

“I will,” Leta promised.

She spent at least an hour reminiscing with Henry over the years on the ranch. They pointed out the blue jays that darted between the magnolias and picked a few black-eyed Susans from where they sprouted up on the riverbank. Leta inhaled their familiar sweet scent, feeling the soft-as-downy petals between her fingers. She missed the days when Henry would dance with her in the meadow. She missed the years of darting between cattle just to bring him lunch. She already missed the time she would no longer be able to spend with him.

When the sun began to dip beneath the oaks in the distance, they put their boots back on and trekked to the main house. It was a short walk from the Red River to the Eastern edge of the ranch, where the main house and barn were located.

“This was my favorite of all the places I’ve lived,” Henry said. “No one else ever permitted me to live in the main house.”

Phantoms of Leta’s childhood danced in her imagination as they walked the path up to the back porch of the house. She could see her eight-year-old self running from a much younger-looking Henry as he tried to usher her inside for dinner. She watched as Henry toted her on his shoulders out to see the birth of the first calf of the season and heard his signature belly laugh when she tried to pronounce “heifer” for the first time as a toddler. She saw the two of them dance through the garden, Alaina, her grandmother, and Jack looking up just in time to defend the sunflowers from their trampling feet.

“You’re part of our family. You always will be,” Leta said.

Henry put an arm around her. “I’m glad to hear that.”

They found Jack inside reading the Bible, per usual. He’d gotten halfway through it before he couldn’t recall several chapters and, frustrated with himself, restarted. This week, he seemed to be doing much better because he was now almost three-quarters of the way through the book by the time they walked in through the back door.

Jack took off his reading glasses and stood up to greet them, his overalls sagging where there used to be a beer belly.

Jack chuckled. “Henry! I see you found what you were looking for.”

“I did, fortunately, just in time to say goodbye. I have a train to catch in town tonight.”

Leta and Jack waited for Henry to collect his things from the upstairs bedroom. It didn’t take long; their foreman didn’t keep much in terms of keepsakes or memorabilia. What he did keep, however, were the memories, some imprinted in photographs and most kept alive in his wild stories.

That was how he helped Leta get through the grief of losing her family: He told her story after story. Henry was the reason she was standing strong today, seven years after nearly losing everything. His leaving the ranch was like losing a piece of her family’s memory.

Leta forced a smile as she and Jack walked Henry out to the front gate. Jack had already fetched his horse while he was gone. Henry placed his belongings in the saddlebags, then turned to say his final goodbyes—or so Leta thought. To her surprise, he handed her a stack of papers.

“Jack expressed his concerns about your ability to sell the ranch once I left,” Henry said. “I apologize for not asking for permission, but I figured I could ask for forgiveness instead. I managed to put the ranch on the market as a representative of yours. The cattle are all up for sale, as well. All you have to do is accept or decline offers.”

Leta’s eyes widened. “You…You did that for me?”

“I’m sorry. I should have asked for your permission, but I knew you would’ve refused. You’ll try to keep up with this place until you run yourself into the ground. I couldn’t leave knowing I was dooming you to that fate.”

Leta stared at the papers in her hands, speechless. She knew she’d have to confront selling the ranch sooner or later, but she’d never considered how she would do it.

“Thank you,” Leta said, swallowing the painful lump in her throat.

“I should be the one thanking you,” Henry said, tears welling up in his eyes. “You and your family have given me a better life than I could have ever asked for. This is my way of repaying you.”

He opened his arms, and Leta found herself falling into them, burying her face in Henry’s chest so he couldn’t see her cry. He stroked his fingers through her hair, as he’d done since she was a little girl, his other arm wrapped protectively around her back.

“You’re strong, Leta. I know you’ll find a way to make this life a good one—for both of you,” he added, shooting a glance at Jack.

Leta nodded, then stepped back, hastily drying her tears on her sleeves.

Henry mounted his horse as Jack stepped up to shake hands with his friend one last time.

“I left my new address on the counter. Be sure to write to me!”

“We will!” Jack said.

With that, Henry turned his horse away, trotting down the main road into the city. Leta watched the dust drift from the road in his wake, her mind whirling a thousand miles an hour.

She could sell the cattle and the ranch without issue now that she had the proper documents, but once she made the final sale…. Where would she go? Jack couldn’t work with his mind the way it was. It was impossible for a woman like her to get a job. She would never be hired as a ranch hand, even though she was overqualified for the job.

Her breath rattled in her chest as she realized her only other option. The thought of it tied her stomach into knots, but what other choice did she have?

She would have to marry into a ranch family.

Her footsteps faltered as she dragged herself back to the house. She’d never thought of marriage as an option for her. No man would want a woman who could do everything he could do in life, then more. Besides, confining herself to the role of a ranch wife was not appealing, especially considering she would know nothing about the man she was marrying, nor could she predict his attitude toward her. But when the choices were to watch her grandfather starve or marry into a family and survive…. What choice did she really have?

“Grandpa, keep an eye out for the ads in the paper,” Leta said, making her decision as she ushered him through the front door.

Jack furrowed his brow. “Hm? Why is that?”

“I think I’m going to become a mail-order bride.”

The news didn’t faze her grandfather, and he maintained his cheery grin. “Ah! That sounds lovely. He’ll be a lucky man!”

Leta smiled, unable to repress her uneasiness.

Chapter One

Wichita, Texas

May 3, 1882

Jesse Strauss’ boots hit the ground with a soft crunch as he dropped down from his horse’s saddle. He approached a shallow dip in the earth, where one of the youngest heifers of the group lay. He’d just branded her two weeks prior.

Flies buzzed aggressively around the body but scattered when Jesse approached. He searched for any signs of life, but her chest was still.

“She’s gone,” Jesse announced.

Gray, his father, dismounted his horse and joined his son, his expression grave.

Together, they examined the body, finding redness around the hooves, swollen, puss-filled sores in her mouth, and a nasty rash around her udder.

Jesse realized with a jolt that all the fat had melted off her in the last two weeks. Her hip bones were clear as day, skin stretched tight around her skeletal frame.

He bowed his head.

“Yep, it’s that same damn disease that the other ones had.”

Gray gasped. “That’s the fifteenth this week! At this rate, I don’t know if we can stop the spread.”

Anxiety bubbled up in Jesse’s chest at the thought of the ranch failing, and his frown deepened.

He’d worked so hard to get it to the top in the region in terms of Army food supply; if his father was right, and this disease was worse than the one that nearly wiped them out before, he would be hard-pressed to save his cattle in time.

Jesse’s skin crawled at the thought of his whole herd bearing those nasty sores and angry red skin infections.

“What’s that?” Gray said suddenly, shielding his eyes from the sun as he peered into the tree line.

Jesse followed his gaze to see a deer stumbling over the ranch fence, its legs shaking as it walked. Instead of scanning for danger and bounding away as most of the whitetails did around here, this young buck took a few shaky steps, paused, and then fell over completely.

Jesse exchanged a look with his dad.

“I think you found the source of our problem,” he said.

Running to the scene with his father on his heels, Jesse found the deer struggling to breathe. Its chest rose and fell in quick gasps, hardly any air moving through its lungs as it wheezed desperately. Angry red sores and swelling dominated its face and mouth, and the skin next to its hooves was raw and bleeding.

Jesse wrenched his gaze away as the poor animal passed in a flurry of panicked breaths, twitching hooves, and fearful tail-flicking. He could hardly look back at it when it stopped breathing.

“Poor thing,” Gray said. “It’s definitely the same thing our cattle have, though. That’s for sure.”

“We have to keep them away from the tree line,” Jesse said. “Any signs of illness, and we’re pulling them from the herd. All deer found on the property are to be chased off or shot if necessary. I’ll let the ranch hands know tomorrow.”

Gray nodded. He helped Jesse dispose of the deer back over the fence, then followed him to the main house. It was a long trot; they found the deer at the Western edge of the property, the furthest out from the house. The pastures were open fields of green, lush foliage that buzzed with bees, permeated by occasional shade trees. Beyond the Western border, a lively forest full of tall, leafy oaks and spindly Texas ashes provided shelter from the blistering sun for the local wildlife.

Jesse had lived here and loved this land all his life.

The ranch hands had gone home for the day by the time they returned.

Jesse and Gray walked their horses into the stables for the evening.

While his father went inside to finish dinner, Jesse took his time caring for the horses. He brushed them, washed the dust from their manes, and cleaned the stones from their hooves. The methodic motion of the brushing soothed the ache in Jesse’s chest.

He leaned his head against his horse’s shoulder, letting out a long, slow exhale.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said.

Whether he was convincing himself or the horse, he didn’t know, but either way, he was wasting his words. He never believed what came out of his mouth, and the horse had never listened to him a day in his life.

“Jesse! Is that you?” a voice called.

Jesse looked up to see the neighbor rancher and his kids passing by in a wagon. They stopped just outside the main house, where John Wesson, the father of the two kids, disembarked.

Jesse locked Rascal in her stall and stepped through the barn doors to greet him.

“John. It’s been a while,” Jesse said. “How’ve you been?”

“Unfortunately, it’ll be a while before you see me again,” John admitted, glancing pointedly at the belongings in the back of his wagon. “Things haven’t been so great. I had to sell the ranch.”

Jesse was taken aback. “What? When?”

“Just yesterday. Some chap from the city came and informed me that the price on my land was sinking faster than a ship at sea. He said he would gladly buy it before the value dropped any further, so I took him up on it.”

“Why’s the value dropping so fast?”

John shook his head, his eyes downcast. “Rustlers. They stole half my herd in a week. I didn’t have the manpower to stop them.”

Jesse felt the blood drain from his face. He dealt with the occasional rustler or two, but a whole band of them…. That was unheard of this far South. Last he’d heard, excessive cattle rustling was a problem Kansas and Oklahoma ranchers dealt with. Since when had the bands of thieves made their way into Texas?

“I was just as surprised as you are,” John said, noticing his confusion. “My ranch was on the smaller side, as you know, so I couldn’t afford as many losses. My ranch hands quit after one of them got shot at. Things were looking bad even before the price of my land tanked. I had to get out before I went under.”

Jesse stared at him, unable to comprehend the reality he was facing. John had been his neighbor for as long as he could remember. He’d been there seven years ago when Stella, his ex-wife, disappeared out of the blue. He’d also watched as Jesse rebuilt his father’s ranch from the brink of bankruptcy. To think he was up and leaving after two weeks of cattle rustling was as astonishing as it was sudden.

“Is your old man around?” John asked. “I’d like to say a final goodbye to him. Gray’s been a good friend all these years.”

“Yes, he’s in the house,” Jesse said, nearly faltering in his words.

Gray turned when the screen door slammed to announce their presence.

“John! It’s been a long time!” he exclaimed, his face lighting up.

“I wish I could say you’ll see me soon,” John said, his smile not meeting his eyes. “How’s your health? I heard you had a heart attack in March.”

“Oh, I’m healthy as a horse,” Gray said, waving him off. “What’s going on? Why’s your wagon packed full?”

John explained what happened to his ranch.

Gray’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re joking!”

John shook his head. His face was so weary, he looked ten years older than his age of thirty-seven.

Jesse’s heart sank at the sight; those sad blue eyes used to be so full of life only a few months ago.

“I’ll be taking the children out to California,” John explained. “I heard there’s a decent amount of work to be found out there. I’ll write when we’ve settled somewhere.”

“Please do!” Gray urged. “We’ll miss having you around these parts.”

“I’ll miss this place dearly,” John said, “but I must move on.”

Jesse and Gray walked him back to his wagon. They shook his hand one final time, then watched in silence as John’s wagon disappeared over the hillside and continued toward town to the South.

The wind picked up as he went, carrying the familiar scent of hay from the cattle barn his way, as if nature itself was trying to say goodbye. The clip-clops of the horses’ hooves faded ever so slowly until they were a distant imagination.

Jesse felt like someone had punched his lights out, and he’d come to the next week.

“I’ve known him since he was a boy,” Gray murmured. “To think he’s gone, after all these years….”

Jesse swallowed hard. Saving the ranch this time around was going to take everything he had…maybe more than he had to give.

***

Jesse excused himself from the dinner table earlier than usual and went to wash up for the night. He lit the fire under the bathtub and started the water, looking forward to a nice, long bath after the day he’d had.

He’d built this bathroom as an addition to the main house several years before his mother passed away, ensuring she had a nice place to relax when her joint pain got the best of her. Years later, Jesse was still enjoying the fruits of his labor, except now, it was his joints that hurt, and almost as badly.

It should be illegal for a 32-year-old to be this sore, he thought.

All of a sudden, there was a muffled sound that came through the small window overhead. Jesse couldn’t place it at first, but it was strange enough to catch his attention.

Then it came again, and this time, in greater proportions.

He quickly put out the fire, shut off the water, and left the house to investigate the source of the noise. It sounded like it was coming from the barn.

He quickened his pace.

There was a crash like buckets tumbling over one another, then a piercing whistle.

Jesse’s heart nearly stopped as he realized what was happening.

When he rounded the corner, his suspicions were confirmed.

“Go, go, go! We’ve been made!” a man shouted.

“Damn!” Jesse cursed, watching as three men on horseback took off out of the cattle barn.

They’d opened the gates, ushering out hundreds of cattle in their wake. Most took off to the West, but some were herded North by the rustlers. They isolated a group of about thirty cattle and galloped into the night.

“What’s all that racket?” Gray called, stumbling out of the house.

“Cattle rustlers! They’ve taken part of the herd!” Jesse yelled. “I’m going after them!”

“I’m right behind you!” Gray said.

Jesse ran to Rascal, saddled her up at the speed of light, and swung onto her back with practiced ease. He tore out of the horse barn and after the rustlers at breakneck speed.

“After them, Rascal!” Jesse urged. “They’re not getting away from us!”

Rascal, for once, did as she was told. She took off faster than a bullet. If there was one thing this horse knew how to do, it was run faster than anything with four legs.

She started gaining on the cattle rustlers, each stride putting Jesse several feet closer to having a clean shot. He pulled out the pistol from his boot, taking aim. He was careful to keep his shot clear of the cattle just in case he missed.

The rustler, dressed in all black, toppled right off the back of his horse, dead. Jesse dropped off the side of his saddle to tie the body to the rustler’s panicking horse, then sent them running back toward the house.

Jesse looked beyond them to see what the holdup with his dad was, but Gray was nowhere in sight.

“No,” Jesse breathed. “It can’t be.”

He waited a moment longer, his heart drumming loud enough that he swore Rascal could have heard it. He glanced back at the rustlers, only to realize they’d scattered after the first shot. His cattle had grouped closely together a short distance away, standing still in the grass. Jesse glanced back toward the main house, cursing under his breath.

“Dad!” he shouted, mounting Rascal once more.

He urged her into a full-on gallop as he raced back toward the house. Panic began to creep up his throat and clog his airways. He passed the barn, but there was no sign of Gray. It was unnervingly still and quiet.

Cold sweat trickled down Jesse’s neck as his throat went dry.

He practically tumbled off Rascal’s saddle when he reached the house, running inside on shaky legs.

“Dad!” Jesse called. “Dad, where are you?”

No response.

Jesse sprinted into the kitchen, and his worst fears spurred to life.

“Dad!” he shrieked.