Prologue

Mesilla, New Mexico, 1868

“Daddy, I can’t do this. I can’t watch you die. I can’t be left all alone.”

It was a statement of weakness, but Lou didn’t care anymore. She had tried to put on a courageous face over the past few months, but Lou’s heart was so frayed at the edges that she didn’t much care to feign bravery in front of anyone anymore—even if that someone was her dying father.

“Oh, yes, you can, Louise,” murmured her father, his voice raspy from near-constant coughing, laying in the small wooden bed he had barely left in weeks. Physically, he was a shadow of what he once was—gaunt instead of muscular, hunched and shriveled instead of the tall, strong man she remembered. Even his hair had changed, grayer than before and clipped short enough to keep him cool when the fever raged. “Where’s that brave girl that faced off a panther when she was only ten?”

Lou huffed out a soft laugh and gazed down at her father, his unrecognizable features shadowed by the flickering candlelight. “That never counted. The panther was a quarter of a mile away, and I ran home immediately.”

“Sometimes, running home is the bravest thing we can do.” He cast her a meaningful look through rheumy eyes because that is exactly what Lou had done, even years after that encounter.

Three months ago, Lou had been a happily married woman starting a new life in St. Louis with her husband, Matthew. Matthew had grown up with Lou in Mesilla, New Mexico, but had never taken to the rancher life, so they set off for St. Louis with a little bit of money and a handful of dreams for the future. She hadn’t known that their time together would be so short, and when a messenger came to her door with a pitiful look and news of an accident, the shock nearly killed her. After a month of putting their affairs in order, Lou had boarded a train back home to Mesilla to join her father at Applewood, their family ranch. But just as she had run home to escape her grief, grief also awaited her at home.

Her father, Keith, was what the doctors called a “lunger,” a person in the last stages of tuberculosis. With a somber shake of his head, his private physician had told Lou that Keith had anywhere from a week to a month left. Tuberculosis was not a quick disease; he had suffered for months and never told her. Lou had chastised her father. “You were happy,” he had countered, but his tone was bittersweet, fading like an autumn sunset. Lou had been happy, and it had all been destroyed in a moment.

The doctor’s prediction had been too optimistic, and both Lou and Keith knew that they were down to hours, not days. His breaths came in short, strained gasps, his chest fluttering up and down with the effort. His weakened legs had taken on a mottled look, a sure sign that death was on the way. The sight of his fragile limbs had brought on a rush of tears, and Lou had had to make an excuse about checking on the horses so that her father wouldn’t see the mess she was. Later, she brought her mending into his bedroom, her eyes watering as she tried to stitch in the dim light. Her needle stilled when her father reached for her hand with quivering fingers.

“Lou,” he whispered. “I want you to take over Applewood when I go. I taught you everything I know about running a ranch, and you can manage this place as good as any man.”

Lou’s mouth opened in protest, but her father waved her off with a shaking hand. “I know your heart is breaking right now. You’ve just lost your childhood sweetheart, and now you’re losing your father.” He stopped to cough into the back of his skeletal hand, blood droplets hitting his pale skin. “But don’t be sad for me. I’ve loved my life. I’ve loved this ranch. And I have loved being your daddy. And I’ll finally see your dear mama again.” His lips trembled, but they formed a small smile, and she saw the glimpse of the man he once was—proud, strong, and still besotted with her mother, who had died so many years ago.

She could barely breathe through the all-encompassing pain. The force of it cracked her ribs clean open and exposed her agonized soul to the ugly outside world. “I can’t run this ranch alone Lou’s voice shook, and if she weren’t so exhausted, she might be a little humiliated by the tremors.

A wracking cough seized her father’s form, and she raised the blood-spattered handkerchief to his pale lips. “If anyone in this world can manage my ranch, it’s you, Lou. But I don’t want you to be alone. There’s someone out there for you, someone that will love you and stand by your side. Promise me you’ll be open to love again. Promise me you’ll run my ranch with a good, loving man by your side.”

“I promise, Daddy,” whispered Lou, but it felt like a piecrust promise. She couldn’t run Applewood Ranch all by herself. And remarrying after losing Matthew? She swiped at fresh tears, tears that always came when she thought of her first and only love. She didn’t see how she could give her heart to anyone, considering it was buried in the ground with her husband. There just wasn’t any more love to give. Her father smiled again at her promise, and fell into a labored sleep, his hand on her knee. Unable to pick up the mending, she closed her eyes as well, but sleep would not come.

The old grandfather clock in the parlor had just struck eleven when her father’s breathing, which had been rapid and shallow all evening, slowed for a few seconds before halting completely. Lou watched his chest, silently willing it to rise and fall again, but it didn’t. Such a quiet moment seemed at odds with the way heartbreak raced through every part of her body, filling her with equal parts panic and sorrow.

He was gone, and she was alone.

She folded his thin hands over the old patchwork quilt her mother had toiled over when they were first married. She hoped at this moment, her parents were reuniting somewhere wonderful and beautiful, somewhere where there was no sickness or pain, where they could finally be at rest with each other.

Then, she laid her cheek on the still warm hand of her dead father and wept, because there would be no place like that for her now. Pain and sorrow would be her companions now.

Chapter One

Mesilla, New Mexico, 1869

“Sookie, how could you!” Lou felt her throat tighten around a sob as she gazed down at the capsized metal pail that the cow had kicked over, spilling its contents all over the barn floor and seeping away into the dirt. Fresh milk was another resource on the ranch that was precious and scant, just like everything else on the godforsaken place. Not that Lou needed much, since she was the only one consuming the milk, but it was the principle of the entire thing.

The cow let out a mournful low and bent her head for a mouthful of precious hay. Winter was on its way, and though Lou was blessed to be in New Mexico, where the winters were mild, hay would still be a scarce commodity, and she would be feeding the cattle all on her own. How she would manage that, she had no idea.

She stood up and stretched her aching back before picking up the three-legged milking stool in one hand, and the mostly empty pail in the other. Heading to the farmhouse, she noticed that another faded wooden rail on the pasture fence was loose, and she added it to the never-ending list in her head. It truly was never-ending—her father hadn’t been able to keep up with any of the work around the ranch during his illness and subsequent deterioration. Over a year’s worth of maintenance and repairs had piled up. The barn’s roof had a gap that allowed rain to seep in, and she had lost a few precious bales of hay to mold because of it. The windmill’s ladder had seen better years, and when she had climbed up to reset the wooden blades, she had nearly fallen and broken her leg. Even the farmhouse was in bad shape, the porch sagging like a wilted corn stalk due to a rotted support post. Add to that anything that Lou hadn’t been able to do for lack of time, strength, or money, and she would probably have everything fixed and finished by the time she was eighty years old.

The steady clatter of hoofbeats and gentle churn of wagon wheels echoed across the distance, and Lou looked up hopefully. She smoothed back the wisps of blonde hair that had fallen out of her braid and squinted tired green eyes toward the ruckus. As she had thought, her closest friend, Haley Smith, was driving the wagon. Haley came to visit every other Sunday, and together, the two women had lunch and a few hours of rest and companionship before they returned to their everyday lives.

Lou glanced down at her dirty skirt and torn gloves. Although it was nothing Haley hadn’t seen her wearing, she still planned to change out of the unseemly outfit, if only to add some normalcy to her Sunday afternoons.

Sundays with Matthew had been exactly that—wonderfully normal. They would spend the day reading together or writing letters, and then that evening, they would have a big dinner, just the two of them. The memory caused a pang of agony in her chest, even nine months after his death, and she appreciated any companionship at all now that her life had changed so much.

“Lou!” Haley called, dragging Lou out of her reverie. After gently bringing her horse to a stop, she climbed down from the wagon, a wicker basket tucked into the crook of her elbow. Inside, she usually carried her contributions to the lunch, often some sort of preserves jar or maybe a small honey cake or cornbread. Her dark brown eyes traveled over Lou’s outfit, and she smiled tenderly. “Why don’t you go get changed, dear. I can see you’re dying to get out of those dusty things. I’ll take care of Rusty and see you in the kitchen.” She patted the roan horse on his neck, and he snuffled towards her hand, looking for a sugar cube.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Lou replied, running into the house as best she could with her aching muscles. She would have thought that six months of hard labor would condition her body to withstand such strain. Yet, every morning, she still woke up with the same burning ache deep in her calves, and the same sharpness in her back and shoulders. Her footsteps on the stairs echoed throughout the empty home, a sound that she had struggled to get used to once her father had passed. A warm house like this should be filled with children’s laughter and joyous voices. Instead, she still felt like the house was in mourning, as if her father’s body was still laid out in the parlor for his wake.

Even the bedroom was too quiet. A year ago, the old armoire tucked snugly in the corner of the room would have held both her and Matthew’s clothing, but now, there were only a few folded garments of her own. She changed into a modest green calico, pinned back her wavy hair for what felt like the hundredth time that day, and headed back downstairs.

In the small kitchen, Haley was already setting out their modest spread of food on the wooden table. Though she was out of her dirty work clothes, Lou still felt homely compared to Haley, who was wearing a crisp red floral dress without a speck of dirt in sight. Her glossy brown hair was tied back in an immaculate braid that flowed down her back. Still, Lou couldn’t be jealous; Haley’s life was just as hard as Lou’s, albeit in different ways.

Haley held up a glass jar. “Ma sent peaches today,” she chirped. Lou smiled at the thought of the older woman. Haley’s mother had been thrown from a horse a few years after Haley’s father had passed, and though she had lived, her mind had been damaged. Canning was one of the activities the woman could still perform without too much trouble. “Oh, and I brought red bean pie.”

“That sounds wonderful, as always,” Lou sighed, looking longingly at the pie before retrieving forks and spoons for them to use, wincing at the creaky hinge on the cupboard door. Haley always made the best pies. “I whipped up corn dodgers and some chicken soup. I didn’t burn either of them this time. I had to use up the rest of the carrots that I didn’t put away for winter.” Though, she wasn’t sure she could call the measly orange vegetables she had grown carrots at all. Just like everything else on the ranch, her garden this year had been doomed to failure. Lou blinked away tears at the thought, because she couldn’t cry again—emotion would just be another indicator of her failure.

A frown turned the corner of Haley’s lips, but she said nothing as she helped Lou set the table. After a moment of grace, they began to eat, Lou’s mind filled only with the bliss of a few minutes’ rest and delicious food. Haley, however, seemed to have other things on her mind. She put down her fork and cleared her throat nervously. Lou glanced up from her soup. “Louise, I, um, wanted to talk to you about something.”

Oh, no. Nothing ever good happened when she was addressed by her full name. Lou’s appetite disappeared in an instant. “What about?”

“Those red circles under your eyes. The fact that a brisk wind might blow you away because you’ve lost so much weight.” Haley blew out an agitated breath, fiddling with her napkin. She had always been reserved. Speaking so frankly must have been hard for Haley, a fact Lou appreciated despite her embarrassment.

“I was just a little frustrated this morning,” Lou began tentatively, swiping under her eyes. “I had some trouble with the cows. And I haven’t had much of an appetite, that’s all. My clothes all fit just fine.”

“And what about two weeks ago, when I drove in and you were struggling to get the herd in the pasture? Were those tears just from frustration?” Haley raised an arched brow, her gaze steady and knowing.

“Cattle are…stubborn creatures,” Lou hesitated as she put her soup spoon down and looked away from her friend.

“Lou, you can’t go on like this,” pleaded Haley, her eyes glossy with sympathetic tears. “You’re going to drive yourself into the ground.”

Lou bit at her lip, worrying the chapped skin. “I promised Daddy. I promised I would take care of Applewood. I’m doing my best. What else can I do?”

“You can accept that you need help,” Haley forged ahead carefully. “Can’t you bring on some kind of hired help, even part-time?”

Lou rested her forehead in her thin, calloused hands, hands that had been smooth and soft just nine months prior. “There’s no money, Haley. None at all. Daddy was sick when the cattle drive should’ve happened, not that I know how I’ll handle it once spring comes around again. I’m living off savings and the sale of a few heads here and there. But I can’t sell them all. I’ll have none left to keep the ranch going. And I can’t sell the horses, I just can’t.” Her voice broke at the thought, and her heart squeezed tight in her chest. Her father may have been running a cattle ranch, but the horses were his true passion. At one time, they had been the strongest income on the ranch, and Applewood horses were known across the western territories for their quality, strength, and temperament. Now, the horses seemed to be just another relic of the ranch’s long-gone prosperity.

“The ranch is barely going as it is,” Haley pressed in a low voice. “And the same goes for you. I’m so worried about you. If you only had a husband…” she winced as soon as she said it.

“I did have a husband,” Lou ground out through gritted teeth. “The best husband. And he was taken from me. My father was taken from me. My mother, too, if we want to go back that far. Everyone has been taken from me.” She could feel the loneliness covering her like a cold morning mist, and she feared it would overtake her completely.

“I wasn’t saying anything against Matthew,” Haley conceded, holding up her hand in a calming gesture. “We all loved Matthew, even when he took you off to the big city and left us little country folk behind.” Lou let out a watery laugh at the comparison, but Haley continued. “I’m just saying that having a husband around would make your burden a little easier to bear.”

“My burden.” Lou shook her head as another round of tears pricked at her eyelids. “I don’t want someone to ease my burden. I want…well, I want love. The kind of love I had with Matthew. I don’t want to replace him but…I’m only twenty-one years old, Haley. I’m supposed to be growing my family, not putting them all in the ground. I want someone I can build a life with, and to have that, I need love.” She sighed and blinked away the last of the tears, smoothing back her hair. “That’s not something I’m going to find out here.”

“I know, dear,” Haley soothed. “Believe me, I know; take it from a self-proclaimed spinster.” She pursed her lips in careful thought. “There’s an idea, you know. You could sell the farm and come live with Ma and me. Three spinsters with no man around to annoy them.”

Lou smiled, gratitude and love shining for the friend that had stayed true to her nearly their entire life. It wasn’t a realistic dream, but to be part of a family again sounded simply divine. “Is there red bean pie in this dream of yours?”

“If you move in with me, I’ll make you red bean pie every day,” promised Haley. “And speaking of…” she lifted a cloth dramatically to reveal her pie. If there was anything that could bring a respite from her dreary life, it was Haley’s baking. Lou clapped as Haley dished it out, and they savored each bite.

Lou knew she couldn’t continue living like this forever. Haley wasn’t saying anything she didn’t already know, deep down. But she hadn’t given up on the ranch quite yet, and that counted for something.