Prologue

New York City, New York, 1886

“Do I smell something burning?” Mrs. Pennyworth wrinkled her nose in a delicate way, arching her eyebrows towards the man sitting in the armchair next to the fire. “Louise, will you be so kind as to check on the supper?”

Louise Pennyworth smiled in a strained way at her stepmother’s words. She knew it wasn’t a question—it was a sweetly worded command. She wondered why Emilia Pennyworth or her daughter, Louise’s stepsister Cordelia, couldn’t go and check on the supper. Louise was the one entertaining a suitor, after all.

Embarrassed, she glanced at Frederick Burns, who was sitting stiffly in his chair looking as awkward as could be. This was only the second time he had called upon her, and it was still so stilted and strange. Frederick pulled at his necktie. He smiled weakly.

There was a tense silence. If Cordelia had been a sweet stepsister, she would have jumped up, insisting that she check on the meal rather than Louise. But Cordelia was as far from sweet as it was possible to be. Louise often thought that Cordelia had probably come howling into the world with that sour vinegar face. A face she had clearly inherited from her mother.

Mrs. Pennyworth stared at Louise pointedly. She wasn’t going to back down.

“Of course,” said Louise, rising. She turned to Frederick. “Please excuse me. I shall not be very long.”

Frederick smiled at her, in a vague sort of way. Louise left the parlor, walking swiftly to the kitchen. The pot on the wood stove, containing a hearty Irish stew, was merrily bubbling away, but Louise couldn’t detect an acrid smell suggesting it was burning. Sighing heavily, she lifted the lid, stirring the stew with a wooden spoon. It wouldn’t be ready for at least another half hour.

She replaced the lid, leaning against the kitchen counter. Now, she was almost glad that Mrs. Pennyworth—she always called her stepmother by her formal title in her mind—had insisted she leave the room. It was good to have a break from the awkward atmosphere in the parlor, with the endless small talk and cup after cup of bad coffee. Even the scones which Cordelia had condescended to bake for afternoon tea were bad—as hard and unyielding as rocks, and just as tasteless.

If only Frederick would just propose and be done with it, thought Louise, in utter despair. Then I could leave this house and my life here forever.

Louise blinked back tears. Her beloved father had passed away six months prior, leaving her to fend for herself with his new wife and her daughter. Papa and Mrs. Pennyworth had only been married for a year prior to his death. Louise would never know why he had decided to marry the hard-faced virago so late in life—he had been a widower ever since her own mother had died in childbirth. It had always been just the two of them against the world, as close as two peas in a pod.

It had been a rude shock when her new stepmother and stepsister had moved into the house. As sweet as Mrs. Pennyworth pretended to be towards her when Papa was around, it was a different story when he wasn’t. She and her daughter teased and mocked Louise constantly. Louise didn’t wish to recall the day that Cordelia had grabbed her head while she was leaning over a bowl washing her hair, pushing her face down into the water as Louise flailed and kicked. When her stepsister had finally released her, Louise’s lungs were ready to explode. And Cordelia and her mother just stood there, laughing at her.

But Papa wouldn’t hear a word against them. Perhaps it was his stubborn pride. He didn’t want to admit he had made a mistake. When she told him of the spiteful act, that her stepsister had almost drowned her, he told her she must be exaggerating. Mrs. Pennyworth, when confronted about it, had laughed and said it was just a harmless prank and that Louise needed to stop being so sensitive.

And now, Papa had left her to fend for herself, living alongside these dreadful people. At least he had left her this house and most of his small fortune, which she believed was his way of apologizing to her for the mistake he had made and for what he knew she would surely endure once he was gone.

But even that was a mixed blessing. Naturally, Mrs. Pennyworth was very bitter that her husband had favored his natural daughter over her and her own daughter, cutting them out of the majority of his will, leaving them just a small stipend. As such, she made Louise’s life a misery on a daily basis, making her do the backbreaking work around the house and rarely giving her any free time. Louise never attended dances or parties. She had been lucky to meet Frederick Burns at church. She was nineteen years old now, and she wasn’t getting any younger.

Louise took a deep breath, looking at herself in the mirror in the hallway, making sure that her hair was still in place. It was a mass of golden curls and could be unruly. A girl with a heart-shaped face and large, solemn brown eyes gazed back at her. She took a deep breath before walking back towards the parlor. She was just about to enter the room when she stopped. Mrs. Pennyworth was talking quickly, in a breathless way, as if the words couldn’t escape her lips fast enough.

“Louise is quite untrustworthy, you know,” she said. “You are not the first gentleman caller here, Mr. Burns. In fact, you are only the latest in a string of callers, who she keeps hanging by a thread before discarding them.” She gave a little cough. “There are names for women like Louise, but being a God-fearing woman, I would never utter them!”

“I see,” said Frederick, sounding shocked. “Well, yes, I do not wish to court a woman of that nature. Thank you for the warning, Mrs. Pennyworth…”

“You are welcome,” said Mrs. Pennyworth. “I can see that you are a hardworking, honest man. Once you recover from this disappointment, perhaps you might consider my own daughter, Cordelia, who is the polar opposite of her stepsister, in temperament as well as virtue.”

Louise was so stunned she couldn’t breathe. Quickly, she turned, rushing up the staircase to her room, slamming the door behind her.

She shouldn’t be surprised. It was just like her stepmother to pull such an audacious act. The woman had virtually called her a whore! It was a disgusting lie. Frederick Burns was the first gentleman caller she had ever received in this house. And she was too busy doing housework most of the time to even meet any other gentlemen, let alone entertain them in that manner!

She felt like bursting into tears. It was simply the last in a long line of dreadful things. She knew, in that moment, that she was never going to escape this place if her stepmother did this to every suitor who called upon her. She would be stuck in this living hell forever.

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

But where could she go? What could she do? She just wanted to leave New York and her sad life here behind her entirely…

Her eyes fell upon the book on her bedside table. It was a chronicle of a pioneer woman who had made a new life in the west of the country. It was so riveting and inspiring that Louise had barely been able to put it down. When she settled in bed at night, she escaped into another world entirely, reading about the woman’s wild adventures on the prairies, and her own miserable existence here finally faded to black.

Why can’t I do that? Why can’t I go west and try to live my own life on my own terms?

She sat down upon her bed, stunned, thinking it through. It was possible—she had the money. Her father had left her enough that she could live quite comfortably. But then she felt a stab of guilt. She couldn’t leave Mrs. Pennyworth and Cordelia with nothing, no matter how loathsome they had been to her. Her father had taught her to be kind and merciful.

I can leave them the house. Give them most of the money. I will not need much—only enough to keep me until I find a position somewhere. The west will be full of opportunities for hard working, eager young women…surely?

A small flame of hope started to burn in her breast. She didn’t need fops like Frederick Burns or his cronies to save her from her desolate life. She didn’t need to marry the first man to come along or wait around for another. She would forge her own path in life.

I always wanted to be an adventuress, she thought, the flame burning higher. And now, that is exactly what I am going to be.

Chapter One

Shiloh, Wyoming, one month later

“Why don’t you just smile a little, young lady?”

Louise gripped her mop and bucket tightly, staring hard at the wizened old man as he stumbled out of the room she was just about to clean. The fumes of strong liquor were so powerful around him that she was sure he would burst into flames if someone lit a match in his vicinity.

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that he could stick it where the sun doesn’t shine, but thankfully, she managed to bite her lip just in time. She couldn’t afford to lose this job. It was the only one she had managed to procure since she had headed west one month ago, despite searching high and low.

The only job that any decent woman would do, that is, she thought darkly. I could make a lot more if I was willing to work in the saloon or the hookshop, as they call it around these parts.

The old man leered at her, and Louise gasped as she breathed in his foul stench. A lot of men in these parts, especially the old timers, weren’t fond of bathing. But she knew he was harmless, despite the cheek. She had gotten a feel for men’s characters over the past few weeks while dealing with all types.

Hastily, she stepped back, forcing a smile onto her face. “I just need to clean the room, mister.”

The man mumbled in an incoherent way, veering off and stumbling down the stairs of the boarding house. Louise sighed heavily before proceeding into the small room. She stopped short, gazing around. It looked like a tornado had whirled through it. The bed linen was piled in a heap on the floor, where the old man had trailed muddy footprints, amid empty bottles of whiskey. The one forlorn picture on the wall was askew. How had he managed to make such a mess in only one night?

She lurched into the room, holding her breath, opening the window. For a moment, she gazed out the window at the small town. Shiloh was a rough western town without many amenities. Her gaze swept along the hay strewn street, taking in the blacksmith, the general store, the post office, and the saloon. She knew there was a sheriff’s office further along the road, along with a one room schoolhouse and a spindly church. And that was about it, aside from a few houses, of course.

How did I get here? By what strange twist of fate did I end up here of all places?

But she already knew the answer to that. It was because she was desperate. She had been looking for work in Cheyenne, where she had booked a ticket on the stagecoach from New York, with no luck. The fare alone had taken a quarter of her money. It seemed no one wanted to employ a young lady with very few skills. She had searched high and low to no avail, staying at a boarding house, which had taken another quarter of her money. No respectable place came cheap.

And then she had been robbed of the rest of it.

Louise’s eyes pricked with tears as she thought about it. She had been walking down the main street in Cheyenne, heading into shop after shop to ask if they needed help, receiving constant rejections. One minute her purse had been hanging from her wrist and the next it wasn’t. Some pickpocketing little weasel had taken all the money she had left in the world.

She had stood in the street, rooted to the spot, dizzy and sick. That was until a kind woman took pity upon her, putting an arm around her, leading her to an eatery which was full of cowboys hollering and thick with the aroma of sizzling steaks and beans. The woman had bought her a coffee while Louise broke down, crying her heart out.

That woman had been Mrs. North, who owned this cheap boarding house in Shiloh. She told Louise she needed a cleaner and could offer board as well—which had turned out to be a room beneath the staircase, too small to even swing a cat. Louise’s weekly wage was less than Mrs. Pennyworth spent on coal for a week in a New York winter.

She was stuck here like a fly in a web now. She couldn’t afford the ticket for a stagecoach back to New York even if she wanted it.

So much for the great adventuress taking on the world.

Louise sighed, turning away from the window, her heart desolate. She was grateful for this job and grateful to Mrs. North for being so kind to take pity on her and give it to her, but she had never expected it would be so tough out west. She picked up her mop and bucket. The floor wasn’t going to clean itself. And she still had five more rooms to clean before she could call it a day.

***

That evening after work, Louise walked briskly down the main street, taking in the air. It was a ritual she forced herself to do every evening. Sometimes she felt as if she were living in a rabbit warren when she spent too long at North’s Boarding House.

She kept her head down as she walked past the saloon. At this time of night, the cowboys were starting to get rowdy after several whiskeys, and they always noticed a female walking alone. She had grown immune to the catcalls and leers, but it was still mortifying.

The drunkards in the saloon are like caged animals let out for the night, she thought. You would think they had never seen a woman before in their lives.

She was almost safely past the saloon when the swinging doors suddenly burst open. A cowboy flew through the air, hitting the ground with a hard thump. She stepped back just in time.

He looked dazed, stumbling to his feet. “Sorry, little lady,” he slurred, bleary eyed. “I do apologize.” He picked up his dusty hat in one hand, sweeping low, in a mock bow. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing all alone, now?”

“Minding my own business,” said Louise, in a tart voice. “If you would excuse me…”

She dodged him, quickly walking back to the boarding house, her heart thumping hard. She glanced behind. The cowboy was watching her. She felt a shiver of unease, closing the door firmly behind her. At least she was safe enough in here. Mrs. North always made sure the door was locked past eight unless there were late lodgers, and then it was usually ten.

She headed towards her poky room beneath the stairs, closing the door behind her, gazing around. There wasn’t much to look at. The bed was narrow, with a hard mattress covered in a threadbare quilt, and took up most of the space. There was a chest to store her clothes against one wall, and a small cabinet, upon which stood a bowl and pitcher for washing.

Louise lay on her back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. This wasn’t the life she had intended. But she couldn’t go home—she didn’t have a home to go back to. She had foolishly signed it away to her stepmother, along with most of her fortune. Because that was how she had been raised. Because her papa had taught her to be kind and merciful. And now she was just a maid with nothing left in the world.

I can’t go back to New York. I just can’t.

The taunts rang in her head. Mrs. Pennyworth hadn’t taken her leaving graciously, grateful for the blessing of securing the house and fortune as well as being rid of Louise once and for all. Oh, no. The woman had mocked her, saying that it was only what she deserved anyway, and that if Louise’s father hadn’t spoilt his little girl rotten, he would have left it to his wife and her daughter in the first place. Louise had always twisted him around her little finger. It was good riddance to bad rubbish.

I have no home anymore.

Tears burnt behind her eyes. Desperately, she fought them. She had cried herself to sleep every night since she had arrived in this godforsaken one-horse town, and she couldn’t keep doing it. She wouldn’t keep doing it. Things would get better—she just needed to stay strong. Or so she told herself as she drifted into an uneasy dream about washing a window which oddly just kept getting dirtier the harder she scrubbed.

***

Louise’s eyes flickered open. It was pitch black. What was that sound?

There it was again. A creak, as if something was creeping along the floorboards. Her heart filled with sudden fear. Was it a rat or a squirrel?

Abruptly, she sat up, her heart racing. Her hands shook as she fumbled for the gas lamp, turning it on. She gasped as light filled the room. There was a man in the room…and it was the cowboy who had been thrown out of the saloon hours before!

She screamed. A high pitched, blood curdling scream.

The man hadn’t expected that. He looked shocked and dazed, as if he didn’t quite know how he had gotten into the room. Louise grabbed one of her boots off the floor, hurling it at him. It hit him square in the nose, causing him to holler like a banshee.

“Get out!” she screamed with all her might, jumping to her feet. She picked up the other boot, raising it in the air above her head. “Or I will throw it, so help me God!”

The man stumbled backwards, his hands splayed in front of him in the classic gesture of defense. He turned, running out of the room. Louise was finding it hard to catch her breath. She sank down onto the bed, so stunned she couldn’t even think.

Mrs. North came running into the room, dressed in a long white nightgown. “Lord, child, what is it?”

Louise took a deep gulp of breath before bursting into tears. As Mrs. North comforted her, she knew that she couldn’t stay here any longer. It was time to eat humble pie and write to Mrs. Pennyworth, begging for funds to get back to New York.

The dream—and the adventure—was over before it had barely even begun.

***

The next day, Louise walked into the post office, clutching the letter to her stepmother in her hand. She still felt dazed by what had happened last night. None of it seemed real.

She was so distracted she didn’t even notice that there was a man ahead of her until she walked straight into him. He was clutching a letter in his hand, which promptly fell to the floor, along with her own.

“Oh,” she cried, bending down. “I’m so sorry!”

The man did the same thing as her, scrambling for his letter. Their heads bumped. Louise gave a high-pitched bark of laughter, mortified beyond measure. The man picked up both their letters, and they slowly got to their feet.

Louise couldn’t help staring at him. He was tall, at least six feet, with auburn hair and a short, rough beard of the same color. He was strong, too, with broad shoulders and big hands. His eyes were gray, the color of gunmetal, and intense as he stared back at her.

She felt a hot flush rise up her neck, staining her cheeks. Neither of them spoke for a moment.

The man cleared his throat, gazing down at her letter in his hand. “You are writing to New York?” Those gunmetal gray eyes bored into her own. “You from the big city, miss? I ain’t seen you around these parts before.”

“Ah…yes, I am,” she stammered. “That is, I came from New York.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve been working here in a boarding house, but now I must go home as it’s not working out at all.”

Louise knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t seem to stop it. His gaze was so direct and disarming. She didn’t usually blurt her problems to complete strangers! What on earth was the matter with her?

He kept staring at her as her words suddenly ran dry. Then he tipped his hat.

“It would be a shame for Shiloh to lose you, miss.” His voice was warm. “How about I buy you a coffee, and you can tell me all about it.” He paused. “I’m Hank Lawler.”