Prologue

Gallatin Valley, Montana Territory

1884

Hugh Rhodes knew something was wrong as he made his way up the forest path to his little cabin. There was no reason for it; the late afternoon sky was a milky pink, the clouds outlined in gold.

His whole body ached, and the handle of the large axe he rested on his shoulder was rough in his calloused hand. It had been a particularly hard day at the small sawmill he owned; two of his men hadn’t shown up, so he had to supervise the cutting of Douglas fir trunks and then patch a cracked blade. In the end, he and his men had felled the last of it the old way, with axes and crosscut saws.

He finally crossed the little footbridge over the creek, a bridge he had built himself after constructing the cabin. The heavy axe blade clunked into the dirt beside the wall, and Hugh rolled his neck and massaged his shoulders.

He scratched at his dark, scraggly beard and swiped at a curl of his black hair that had gone over his eye as he looked up at the little cabin, made of logs he had cut and squared himself. This cabin had been the first dwelling that he had not only built but also owned exclusively, and he’d always been very proud of it, despite its humble size.

It was one room, really, but he didn’t need any more than that. He pushed open the door into the spartan interior, which simply had a bed, a chair, a small cupboard, some carving tools on a rustic desk, and the potbelly stove he used every day. At six feet seven inches, Hugh was well used to ducking to enter doorways. Some wood was already in the stove, so he started a fire and filled his dented percolator with water from the spring outside before coming back in to add the coffee.

After placing it on the stove, he sat down heavily, and the bed creaked under him. He pulled off his boots and massaged his throbbing feet, but the pain there was dull and distant. Normally, the calming sound of the creek, birds chirping, and pine branches rustling outside made him relax quickly, but his limbs felt twitchy and restless, and his mind was no better.

The coffee was soon ready, and he stood up to pour it into an enamel mug before sitting back on his bed. Fall was already coming, and the mug felt pleasantly warm against his cold hands. As usual, the first swallow made things seem much better, but he almost spat it out when a sharp knock came at the door.

“What is it now?” he mumbled.

His heart beat hard, and he wanted to do anything other than open that door. He stood as the knocking intensified, took a deep breath, and pulled it open to reveal Seth Jackson, his twenty-nine-year-old foreman and best friend. Seth’s usually pale blue eyes were red and glistened with tears, which only made Hugh even more worried. He couldn’t ever recall seeing Seth with tears in his eyes.

“Oh, Hugh! I’m so glad I found you,” he said breathlessly.

“Whoa, hold on! Take a moment to catch your breath. What’s the matter?” Hugh said, fighting to keep his voice calm despite the fear that was bubbling inside him.

I was right to feel off.

“I was finishing up at the mill, and… someone came by, a young lad from Bozeman… and… and…”

Seth’s words came out in a rush, and his normally solid frame swayed. Hugh pulled the chair from the desk, and Seth flopped down on it while he sat on his bed. He did not want to hear what news Seth had. Bad news wasn’t real until you knew what it was, and the longer he could delay it being a reality, the better.

For the first time in the many years Hugh had known Seth, tears glistened in his eyes. It was as shocking as the one time he saw his father cry, and it created the same panicked feeling in his belly as it had then.

“What is it, Seth? For goodness’ sake, tell me!”

Seth dragged in a breath and wiped his eyes with his forearm.

“Oh, Hugh. It’s your brother, Andrew… He and Florence… Hugh, they’re gone…”

Every sound of the forest bled away, and Hugh was left with the thumping of his own heart rocking his eardrums. His mouth hung open, and he blinked quickly as his mind tried to make sense of it.

“What?” he said in a voice that sounded as if it came from someone else in another life.

“There… there was an early blizzard… up past the Gallatin crossing… They were in a wagon heading home with supplies, and the wheels slid on some ice, sending them into… into the river.”

The words seemed to cut Seth as he spoke them, and he winced.

A long breath escaped Hugh’s lungs. Thoughts raged in his mind, and his body became weak.

“And… the children?” he asked in a whisper.

Seth sniffed and looked blankly ahead.

“They’re all right. Well, they’re not hurt, at least. They were at home, and…”

Seth looked up, and Hugh knew what was on his mind.

He and Seth had practically grown up together, and they often joked that he was the third Rhodes brother. So he knew that Hugh was the only Rhodes left. Apart from Andrew and Florence, the children had no one else.

“They need you, Hugh,” he said simply.

Hugh closed his eyes. There were no tears; instead, the grief and shock were like a poison burning his every muscle. He lowered his head and put his face in his hands, knowing that the cabin, the mill, the quiet he’d built with his own two hands—all of it belonged to yesterday.

Chapter One

One week later at mid-morning, Hugh drove his cart away from the town of Bozeman and across the valley. The funeral had been small and simple, and yet Hugh had been a little surprised at how many people flocked to the chapel to pay their respects. Clearly, Andrew was more well-liked than he thought. The preacher and his wife had been kind enough to watch the two children in the meantime, and they’d both been silent and sullen during the proceedings.

The Bridger Range’s snowcapped peaks pierced the skies to the northeast, and Hugh could just make out the dense pine forests at their base. It hurt his heart to think of his little cabin somewhere in the green, forever lost to him.

The beauty of the valley normally captured his heart and filled him with good cheer, but today, he took in none of the stunning views, which stretched for many miles, hemmed in by imposing mountains on all sides.

Hugh was dressed in a black wool suit with a matching necktie, and he wore his father’s itchy old felt hat on his head, over hair that was, quite unusually, neatly combed.

Sitting in the back of the cart was his thirteen-year-old nephew, Walter, who was hugging his six-year-old sister, Charlotte. Walter looked a bit older than his age with his tall, lean frame and angular features. His sandy brown hair was cut the same way Hugh’s brother Andrew always had it, and his gray eyes were so similar to Andrew’s that it was almost eerie to look at them.

Charlotte had blonde hair tied in pigtails, and her rounded face and rosy cheeks made her the spitting image of her mother, Florence. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes red as she sniffed and occasionally broke out into little crying gasps. It broke Hugh’s heart each time. Something needed to break the tension, so Hugh cleared his throat and spoke.

“Uh, say, you two. Do you have a favorite thing to have for supper? I’ll try to make it?”

His question was met by the rattling of the wagon wheels on the dusty road and the occasional huffing of the horses.

“Well then, it’s still about half an hour to your house… You two could sing a song to pass the time.”

Hugh didn’t much care for singing, but he believed it was something that the children enjoyed. His shoulders slumped as he was answered with more silence. He grimaced and thought back to his conversation with Seth a few days before.

Seth said the thing that he’d known the moment he heard the news but could scarcely bear to admit: the children were going to be his responsibility.

“I don’t know anything about raising children, though! I don’t even know them very well,” he’d protested.

“Still,” Seth replied as he smoked his pipe. “You’re all they have left, now. You’re one of the best men I know, Hugh. All you can do is try your best for them.”

He shook his head as they approached a familiar area. Hugh had decided years ago that he would never have children of his own because some people just weren’t cut out for that kind of responsibility. There was also so much that could go wrong when raising a child, and Hugh didn’t want any chance of making a child feel as unwanted as his father had made him, even unintentionally. A flash of anger and resentment came over him.

This isn’t fair! I didn’t ask for this! Andrew should be here to care for his children.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he slumped his shoulders again as a great shame came over him. Behind him, Charlotte started crying anew, and Hugh’s shame doubled. For a moment, it was almost as if Charlotte had read his thoughts, and while he knew that it was impossible, it still sent a chill down his spine.

“We’re almost there,” he said in a flat tone, but neither of the children answered.

This area of the valley was dotted with farms, rolling pastures, and small homesteads. They passed a small general store that stood next to a blacksmith, and he raised a hand to the burly man hammering away at his anvil. The ranch was just a few minutes away, and he dreaded arriving.

It was the ranch he had grown up on, and while it held happy memories for him, it had also been a place he needed to escape. His childhood had been dominated by his father’s preference for Andrew. Andrew was always the favorite, always the one that his father wanted to take over the ranch one day, and when that day had come, Hugh had taken his chance to escape and make a life of his own. It was all for nothing, though, as he passed the wooden arch at the entrance to the driveway and approached the large log cabin that stood up ahead. The bigger it got in his view, the deeper the pit in his stomach dropped. He passed the stables and horse paddocks on the right and the big barn on the left to pull up in front of the house.

He took a deep breath and rubbed at his weary eyes.

“All right, you two. Let’s get down from the cart. Walter, can you help me carry in these bags?” Hugh asked as he hopped down.

Walter stood sullenly, lips pursed and helped Charlotte down from the cart before taking her hand and leading her into the house. He slammed the door behind him, making Hugh wince. With that, he was left with the laden cart, and he sighed as he started to unload it. A few bags held his clothes, some woodworking supplies, and several sacks of food and provisions. When living alone, Hugh typically subsisted on meat, oatmeal, coffee, and whatever fresh vegetables he could get from nearby, but he’d tried to get a few niceties for the children like honey and jam, hoping it would lift their spirits. As he worked on unloading it all, he somehow doubted it would.

The afternoon sun burned his neck, and he was sweating by the time he finished bringing everything inside. It was much bigger than the cabin he was used to. It opened to a spacious living area with a round, red rug beneath two rugged, homemade settees arranged around the stone fireplace. Florence had been fond of painting, and there were pictures of flowers and mountains hung on every wall. Hugh exhaled sadly at the sight of a painted family portrait that was probably no more than a few months old, and he wondered whether it was better for the children to leave it up or take it down.

Further in, a kitchen stood with a big stove and cupboards, and the window above the counter looked out over the grazing fields to the east. Finally, three bedrooms sat on the right side of the house: the main bedroom in the center, with a small one on either side for each child. He let out a long breath and carried his suitcase to the center bedroom, which had once housed his parents, only to have Andrew and Florence take it over. He opened the door, and his lip trembled at the sight of the interior.

If Hugh hadn’t known better, he’d have thought that whoever stayed in this room was only out for a few hours and would be back at any moment. The bed was neatly made, and a vase on the windowsill held flowers that had begun to wilt and droop from lack of water. A table was laden with jars of paint, pencils, and sheets of paper with sketches; next to it stood an easel with a half-finished painting of the mountain range, never to be completed.

His bag dropped to the ground with a thump, and he closed his eyes.

“Why are you in there?” said a croaky voice from behind him.

The voice startled him, partly because he hadn’t been expecting it and partly because it sounded so much like Andrew’s had when he was a teenager.

Hugh turned to see Walter, his face angry, arms crossed, as Charlotte cowered behind him. Hugh was momentarily lost for words and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well… I just figured that I’d stay in there,” he said awkwardly.

“But… but that’s Ma and Pa’s room,” Charlotte said in a shaky voice. “We need to keep it ready for them…”

Hugh pursed his lips.

I don’t even know what to say to that.

“Ma and Pa ain’t coming back, Charlotte,” Walter said testily.

“You don’t know that for sure,” she said, dropping her gaze to the floor as more tears fell to soak into the wooden planks.

“Well, I… uh…” Hugh stammered. “Would you like something to eat or drink? I bought some chocolate if you—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Walter led Charlotte to the back door and left, closing it behind them. Hugh trudged miserably back into the bedroom and flopped onto the bed.

“What am I supposed to do?” he whispered.

***

It was a relief to get out of his uncomfortable funeral suit and into some trousers, a long-sleeved plaid shirt, and a brown jacket. He looked in the mirror to ruffle his hair into its usual unruly curls. His face looked pale in the mirror, and dark circles ringed his eyes.

“Best get this over with,” he mumbled before heading out of his room and into the house. It was quiet, but he looked out the window to see the children in the backyard. After steeling himself once more, he exited through the back door to the sandy yard. To the left stood an oak tree with a wooden swing hanging from it; to the right, a dusty pathway led to a nearby forest. Straight ahead was a small pond where Hugh remembered feeding ducks as a child. Walter and Charlotte were sitting on the bank of the pond, and Hugh put his hands in his jacket pockets before making his way over there.

“You two all right out here?” he asked.

“When are Ma and Pa coming home?” Charlotte whined.

“How many times do I gotta tell you? They ain’t coming back,” Walter said as he skipped a stone across the surface of the pond. “They’ve left us.”

Hugh rubbed his hand over his mouth, as this was already more feeling than he was comfortable with. He’d always found that emotions, good or bad, were best kept inside where they couldn’t hurt anybody else.

What am I supposed to say or do to that?

He got down on his haunches next to them and looked out on the pond.

“Now, Walter. Maybe you should be a bit kinder with your sister. This is a hard time for all of us.”

Walter grunted and skipped another stone, albeit more aggressively.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do. You ain’t our pa,” he said with a clenched jaw.

Despite everything, anger boiled in Hugh’s chest, but he took a deep breath to quell it.

“I’m not telling you what to do, Walter. I just think it’s best if we all… you know, help each other through this.”

“You have no idea how we do things around here, Hugh,” Walter said with a venomous side-eye. “You were hardly even here when they were alive.”

It was strange to be called by his first name by someone so young, but Hugh continued to breathe despite how trapped and panicked he started to feel.

“They’ll still come home,” Charlotte said as she drew circles in the dirt with a stick.

Walter’s face went red, and he stood with his fists balled.

“No, Charlotte. They’re not! They’re dead, do you hear me? Dead! You need to accept it!”

Charlotte sobbed as she put her face in her hands, and Walter’s face trembled.

“Walter, please… we need to…” Hugh stammered.

His legs were shaking, and his head swam, and he hoped that this was all a nightmare that he would soon wake up from, safe and sound in his simple little cabin so that he could continue his simple little life.

“I don’t care what you have to say,” Walter said as tears gathered in his eyes and his voice cracked.

“Well… whether we like it or not, I’m… I’m going to stay here to look after you from now on. I know you’re angry and hurt, but we need to try and—”

“We don’t need you! I’m no kid; I can take care of us just fine,” Walter retorted.

Hugh let out a long breath as he wrestled for control of his thoughts.

“I need you to be reasonable, Walter. I need to help you two, and you need to keep going to school and learning how to run this ranch. When you’re older, then—”

“Have you even cried once for Ma and Pa?” Walter asked suddenly as tears started to roll down his cheeks.

Hugh was so taken aback that his mouth gaped open.

“I don’t… I…”

“That’s what I thought. You never cared about them or us or anything,” Walter said. “It should have been you that went into that river, not them!”

His eyes widened as if surprised by what he’d said, but then he sniffed and ran back to the house and slammed the back door behind him.

Hugh’s heart beat so hard his ribs ached. He closed his eyes and grunted as Charlotte sat silently.

“Is he telling the truth?” she asked in a voice scarcely more than a whisper. “Ma and Pa aren’t coming home?”

He shuffled closer to her and put a big hand on her shoulder.

“I’m afraid he is, little one. But all will be well; I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She stood with a blank expression and nodded.

“All right,” she said emotionlessly before heading inside too, and Hugh was left alone with nothing but the croaking of a frog and his own misery.

***

Three days later, things weren’t much better. Walter refused to acknowledge Hugh and had regular outbursts. Both he and Charlotte barely ate. As much as Hugh tried to be understanding about their grief, he was starting to get frustrated with them. Taking care of children was also even more work than he’d expected. He was used to cooking very simple meals at his little cabin, but now he had to grapple with food he’d never made before, not to mention the messy dishes and dirty clothes that never seemed to end.

He was relieved to see Seth and his wife, Jane, approaching on horseback as he chopped wood in the front yard. He slammed the axe back into the stump and took off his gloves to greet his friends.

His back burned from the sun, and his bare chest glistened with sweat as they approached. After exchanging greetings, they all headed to the backyard, where Walter and Charlotte were sitting by the pond. Seth’s thinning blonde hair was combed back, and he’d shaved off his mustache as well, something he normally didn’t do.

Everyone is getting a fresh start, it seems.

Jane was short and thin, had rich dark hair and freckles on her nose and cheeks, and she had a toothy smile that always brightened the room. Hugh was glad to have her there too. She’d known Hugh’s family and interacted with the children, so he hoped she’d have some ideas on how to deal with them. They stood a distance away from the children, and Hugh motioned toward them.

“They spend pretty much all day there,” Hugh said as the trio watched the children. “Sometimes, Walter heads out into the pine forest over yonder, and yesterday he came back with bruising on his knuckles, as if he’d been punching trees or something. I don’t know what to do with them,” Hugh said sadly.

“Poor children… what a thing to go through,” Jane said.

Seth and, to a lesser extent, Jane had known the Rhodes family for years. In fact, Seth had grown up on the neighboring homestead and worked the ranch alongside the Rhodes boys before following Hugh to the mill. Seth often drove lumber from the sawmill to the ranch, so the children knew him well.

“I don’t know,” Hugh said. “I understand they’re upset, but when each of my folks died, I just dealt with it differently. I found ways to be alone with my grief and not spread it to others.”

Jane looked at him with a kind expression.

“And do you think that was good for you?” she asked gently.

Hugh folded his arms and looked out at the mountains.

“The less you allow yourself to care, the less things can hurt you,” he said.

Seth and Jane held hands and looked at each other, which made Hugh’s face burn with embarrassment. They clearly didn’t agree with his philosophy.

“Maybe they’d feel more comfortable if it felt more like a normal family. Do you have anyone you’re sweet on?” asked Jane.

Hugh was caught off guard and cleared his throat.

“No. I’ve never been one for the idea of marriage or love. Things are easier when you’re looking out for yourself.”

“Be that as it may, it might be good for them,” said Seth. “In fact, yesterday we had an idea. I don’t think you’ll like it, but have you ever considered a mail-order bride?”

Hugh groaned and rubbed his eyes with his fingers.

“That has to be a joke,” he said in a croak.

“Hear us out, Hugh. Most folks who do it are purely looking for convenience. You wouldn’t have to be in love or anything, but you could find someone who is—”

“Just as desperate as me? No, thank you,” Hugh grumbled.

“No! Someone in a bad place who could use some help. There’s no shame in it! And I think it would be good for the children,” Seth pressed.

“I don’t know,” Hugh said as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “It would be strange having a person we don’t know just living here all of a sudden.”

“Children need a mother,” Jane said gently.

Despite how much he had been struggling and knew she was right, there was still a sting of offense in Hugh’s mind. Jane seemed to sense it and spoke quickly.

“You’ve been doing a marvelous job, Hugh, especially under the circumstances. But what about when you start working properly again? I really think you need some help.”

Hugh looked out at the distant forests again, then at the children sitting sadly at the pond’s edge. It would be nice to have someone to help out, especially someone better suited to it than he was. Maybe she could connect with the children so he could focus on the ranch. It could be like a business arrangement; essentially hiring someone to help. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea.

He breathed out slowly and nodded, making Seth and Jane exchange satisfied smiles.

“Fine. I’ll try it, but the second I don’t like it, it stops.”

Jane squealed and clapped her hands.

“It’ll be so exciting! I’ll get some paper, and we can get started.”

She ran inside, and both Hugh and Seth looked at the children again, and Seth put a hand on Hugh’s shoulder.

“It might be just what you need, my friend,” he said.

Hugh was already regretting it, but something needed to change; he couldn’t ever be a father worthy of those children.

“As long as whoever replies understands that this is just an arrangement. I still intend to be alone as soon as I can,” he said evenly.