Prologue

18th March 1878

Virginia City, Montana

Dora’s feet slammed against the rough, dry soil. Her ankles ached from the impact, but she knew she couldn’t slow down, not for one second. She could feel the sores developing on the soles of her feet already, but they were by far the least of her concerns. Sweat dripped down her forehead, some of it catching in her plush, thick brows, and some slipping down her nose until it beaded at the tip, dripping off onto the cloth in her arms.

A small damp patch had formed on the white fabric, creating a small see-through area where Dora could just about make out the dense curls of her baby’s short hair. She pulled her eyes up, away from her child, and focused on the scenery around her. The sun was beating down on her, hot and humid even in the spring, and it was making it hard to focus on the verbal directions she had been given weeks ago.

She’d give anything to have her husband with her, reminding her which way to go, scolding her for taking so long or taking a wrong turn— but that was impossible. She’d never see her husband again.

Tears started to sting her eyes. Her breath caught in her throat, and she suddenly became aware of how sore her chest was from breathing so heavily. Peering over her shoulder for a brief second, she took a deep breath and stopped for the tiniest of moments. Just long enough for her heart to slow to a survivable pace.

She felt the blood return to her limbs, and the breath refill her lungs, and set off again. Her legs screamed. Stopping had made the aching in her muscles even worse. Her shoulders ground in their joints as she tried her best to keep her baby still against her chest. She gritted her teeth, trying to push the pain from her mind. No matter how bad it got, she couldn’t let it win. There were more important things at stake now. Or rather, one important thing: the baby. Her baby. If she stopped for too long, there was every chance that they’d both die. She was certain her death was imminent anyway, but she couldn’t let that be the fate of her baby. She was hardly four months old.

So she kept running. She tried to force whole breaths into her lungs, despite her body’s protests. She clenched her jaw shut, her teeth pushing down on each other as she braced herself for each individual impact of her feet on the earth. After a while, she could no longer feel the dry soil. Instead, she could feel her bones clicking and grinding on one another, her muscles pulling, releasing and burning with each movement.

As the sun began to hang low in the sky, Dora began to realize if she didn’t stop soon, she was going to collapse. Her body had not even fully recovered from the birth of the child, and she’d been running for hours. She was sure she’d gone in circles for a while. Her husband had not told her that the ranch was that far away.

Just a small rest, she told herself. I can feed the baby quickly, and then we can carry on. If she gets hungry, she’ll cry, and that’ll draw unwanted attention. It’s worth it. It won’t take long.

She started to let herself slow down, and each muscle in her legs and around her hips began to sting, the weight of her body like an anchor weighing her down, slowing her movement. She looked around, her tired eyes scouring the Virginia City scenery for somewhere to stop for just a moment. After a few minutes, they landed on it: a small shrub and a smattering of boulders, just off to her left, shaped like a crescent moon. It’d hide her from most directions.

She rushed over to the reprieve and slid down onto her knees with a crunch. Before she could do anything more, tears started streaming down her cheeks.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go, she thought to herself. We fell in love. We got married. We had a baby. I did it all right. I have always prayed, I have thanked God for everything I have been given… and yet I have been forsaken.

She wiped tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand and carefully started to unwrap her baby, pulling the thin white sheet away from her face. Her eyes locked with the little ones’, and she felt her heart swell. The baby looked so much like both her and her husband.

She had her husband’s soft, almond-shaped hazel eyes and his slightly pointier nose, but her freckles, dotted across her light brown skin and she had her thick brows, too. Her hair was starting to grow already, and it was just as curly as hers, but slightly lighter, just like her husband. She found herself wondering what she’d look like when she got older, and choked out a sob.

I’ll never know, she thought to herself. I’ll never see her grown.

She rocked her head back, suddenly conscious that her tears were rolling down onto the baby’s face. She took a deep breath, focusing on the rise and fall of her chest. Opening her eyes slowly, she realized she had run out of hope. She had known her death was coming, but kneeling there, in the dirt, she couldn’t help but feel that her baby’s was too. When she’d set off, she thought there was a chance she’d remember the directions, that she’d make it. Now, though, she felt completely hopeless.

Pulling her head forward, she looked down at her baby and tried one last thing.

Dear God, she thought to herself. Please hear me. I have always been a loyal follower, and have never asked you for anything. Now I beg you, please let me save my daughter. She is but a few months old, and has not had the chance to live her life yet— to take it away so soon would be unjust. Please, Lord, show her mercy. All I ask of you is mercy. mercy, for my child. Please, Lord. Amen.

She stroked the cheek of her baby.

Mercy, she thought to herself again. Maybe that’s her name.

“Mercy,” she said quietly, her voice hoarse. “That’s you, isn’t it? My Mercy.”

She felt a tiny smile stretch across her face. Taking one last glance at Mercy, she moved and adjusted her outfit to start feeding her. They couldn’t waste any more time. She needed to get moving again.

As she let Mercy feed, her mind went to the scrap of paper and pencil she had stolen before she set off. She’d intended to write a small note to leave with Mercy. Her husband had taught her to write and read, which she was now incredibly grateful for. She couldn’t help but think it would be what might just save their daughter’s life. She could use her words to convince Jane to take Mercy in. Just leaving her on the doorstep was risky, but with a note she might have a chance. She just had to find the time to write it.

Once Mercy was done feeding, she swept the baby up and wrapped both herself and the child up again. Gathering her thoughts, she filled her lungs with breath, unsure when she’d next be able to. She stretched her neck, peering around the crescent of shrubbery to check her surroundings. As soon as she was convinced it was clear, she rocked back onto her feet and straightened her now very stiff legs. She inhaled shakily, wincing as her muscles adapted to the new weight on them.

Then, without wasting another second, she set off again. Her legs pushed as fast as they could, and she ran as far and as fast as possible. In her mind, she held an image of Abel, her husband, telling her where to go. He’d made it very clear that he wanted their daughter to be free of the life they lived. She was not to be brought up as part of a gang, to be part of the Marauders. He wanted more for her, and he thought that the only way for them to save her from their lifestyle was to give her away, to send her to an old friend of his. As she replayed his message in her mind, she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about how his eyes had looked as he spoke, soft, serious and warm, hazel sparkling under the sun as she held her pregnant stomach. She remembered the feeling of his hand on hers on the curve of her stomach. The closest he’d ever get to holding Mercy, she thought.

She choked back more tears and shook her head.

I need to stop, she said to herself. There is no point in my getting sentimental. I know this is the right decision. Abel wanted the baby taken to Jane, where she’d be safe. Jane was his first friend, his first love. She has money, and she can protect my baby. It makes sense. Abel is gone. They’re after me. I can’t keep getting emotional.

She tightened her jaw. Looking around, she could see houses on the horizon. She had reached civilization, it seemed, after running through nothing but barren land. Now she had to remember which of the ranches she was headed to. Getting it wrong could mean getting shot.

Her heart pounded in her chest, so hard that she swore she could hear it. Her eyes scanned the horizon as it got closer and closer, and she turned right, towards two of the larger-looking ranches. She was sure it’d been where Abel had directed her. She hoped she was right.

As the ranches got closer, she allowed herself to slow down ever so slightly. Too fast and she’d look more suspicious. There were more people around her now, and she was very aware that she needed not to look like she was trying to cause trouble, or like she was on the run— even though she was. Slowing into a gentle jog, she headed toward one of the ranch houses.

Abel had painted a detailed picture when he described the ranch. He’d explained that the house was large, much larger than anything she was used to. It had four windows on the top floor, and two on either side of the porch on the ground floor.

The porch was painted white, and off to one side of the building there was a set of stables, behind which was a barn. Between the stables and the barn, he’d told her there was a large rose bush that the whole family put a lot of effort into maintaining— it would help her to know she was in the right place.

The first house she turned toward was large, just like Abel had said, but there was a porch that wrapped around two sides, and no rose bush in sight. She let out a sigh. Her body felt as if it were engulfed in flames. Her skin was slick with sweat, and a lump rose in her throat. Her lungs ached, and her muscles felt like they’d been prodded with hot pokers. She wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to keep going. She needed one of the houses nearby to be Jane’s. Otherwise, she was going to stop, and they’d find her. They’d find both of them.

Swallowing back more tears, Dora jogged away from the first house and toward the next ranch. As she moved, she peered back over her shoulder. There was still no sign of the gang; of anyone, really. She took a shaky breath and continued toward the second ranch. It wasn’t long before she turned onto the land, the house at the end coming into full view. It was large, and, just as Abel had described, had four windows above the porch and another two on the sides.

Her heart stopped in her chest, and she froze.

Immediately, her eyes darted off to the side.

Sure enough, there was a barn, some stables, and a large, well-kept rose bush that stood out like a sore thumb among the rest of the messily maintained grass and shrubbery near the house.

I’ve made it, Dora thought to herself. I’ve done it.

Tears sprung to her eyes again, only this time she couldn’t fight them off. Sobs racked her body, and she did her best to keep them quiet, but there was only so much that she could do. Walking over to the side of the stables, she placed Mercy on the floor, wrapped in her muslin. Pulling the scrap of paper and pencil she had stolen out of the shoulder of her dress, she leaned up against the barn and began to scrawl a note.

Dear Jane,

Please take care of this baby. She has no hope, not without you. I know you will always do the right thing, and I trust you to be a good mother to her like she needs. Her name is Mercy, and she needs a real shot at this life, which is more than we can give her.

I will always love her, but you can give her much more than I ever could. She deserves a life with freedom and opportunities.

I hope that you can provide for her, and love her just as I do.

She debated for a moment how to end the letter. She was nobody to Jane, so her own name was pointless. She could sign it as Abel, but she knew he was long gone, and she didn’t want to give Jane hope that maybe he’d come back one day.

She chewed her lower lip and glanced down at Mercy.

Just leave it there. If Abel was right, she’d take in the baby no matter who left her here.

She scooped Mercy off the ground and brought her up to her chest. Moving the muslin gently, she stroked her thumb over the little girl’s face and smiled sadly.

“I want you to know, Mercy, that I love you more than anything in existence. I will always be watching over you, no matter where you are. I am always going to be with you, in here,” she said quietly, taking her index finger and gently pressing it to Mercy’s chest. “But this is the only way you get the life you deserve. It is what your father wanted.” Tears began to roll down Dora’s cheeks again. She took the note and tucked it into the muslin. Then, carefully, she pulled a necklace from around her neck and placed it around Mercy. It was a brown wooden beaded necklace with a small, handcrafted crucifix at the bottom. It was too big for the baby, but she nestled the loose necklace into the folds of the fabric so that it stayed put.

Turning, she took another look at the house.

It’s now or never.

Bracing her muscles for one last push, she ran away from the barn, toward the house. There was nobody around, not that she could see, but she knew she needed to be quick. She’d been on ranches before, and plenty of them had guard dogs and other ways to know if thieves were nearby. She raced up to the porch and took the steps two at a time.

Then, as carefully as she could, she placed Mercy by the door. The absence of her against Dora’s chest made her heart ache, and she almost picked her back up and left, but Abel’s face in her mind stopped her. Instead, she took a deep breath, rapped her knuckles against the door— then turned and ran.

She ran until she found a small hedge off to one side of the ranch. Rushing over to it, she fell to her knees. Her eyes were locked on the door of the ranch house, and her heart continued to pound in her chest as she waited for someone to open it. She was far enough that nobody would see her, she hoped, but she needed to know that Jane would take her little one in. She had to know Mercy was safe.

She waited, her breathing shaky, her palms sweaty as she fiddled absentmindedly with the fabric of her skirt, for the door to open. After a short while, the large oak door swung into the house, and a tall, slim woman stepped out.

Jane, she thought. Just like Abel described.

Dora watched carefully. The woman had long, curly red hair that she’d tried to tuck into a braid but that seemed to have its own goal in mind. She was taller than most women Dora knew, and her body was lean, and slim but muscular.

No wonder Abel loved her, she thought to herself.

She watched as Jane bent down, scooping Mercy up into her arms. She cradled her, moving the muslin to reveal her face. Dora felt her heart stop in her chest— this was the moment of truth. Jane might accept a baby left on her doorstep, but a dark-skinned baby? That was something else.

She waited for Jane to gasp, to put Mercy down, to step away.

But that moment never came.

Rocking Mercy gently in her arms, Jane looked out across the ranch, squinting. Dora ducked down.

By the time she popped her head up over the hedges again, the door was closed. Jane and Mercy were on the other side of it. Her job was done. Mercy was safe.

Now she had to run.

Chapter One

22nd April 1878

The Kimbrell Ranch, Virginia City, Montana

Jane perched on the edge of her bed, her long red hair draped over her shoulder as she finished her braid. Her fingers worked deftly, taming each curl into its place in the braid as she worked down to the tips of her hair. Glancing in the mirror opposite her, she took a moment to assess her reflection. She wore a long reddish-brown dress that Mattie, her cousin, had chosen for her.

She’d said it matched Jane’s hair and made the freckles that littered Jane’s skin from head to toe stand out. Her face was gently made up, a light rouge across her cheeks and a pale pink painted on her lips. Her hair was swept back into a braid, just like it was every day, as that was the only style she could ever convince it to stay in. She looked acceptable.

She never thought she was anything special— she was long and thin, whereas other women had curves and small, slight bodies. But she’d done her best. She knew if she hadn’t, Mattie would’ve thrown a fit.

She was due to meet Frank Grey, a suitor who had shown interest in her and the ranch. She had no interest in marrying, not really. She’d dreamed of marriage as a girl, of finding someone she loved and settling down with them. She’d thought about what it would be like to keep house for her beloved and their children.

Now, though, after everything, that was impossible. They were struggling. She could see that, and she knew that if they continued the way they were, she and Mattie would soon both be homeless, and they’d have to find work in other places. They’d have to rely on bar or maid work, or, if there was no other option, gang work.

But she’d refused to acknowledge it until Mattie insisted they needed help, and the two of them realized that a suitor would be financially beneficial. It was just… it hadn’t been that long since her father had passed, and with the baby that had been left on their doorstep… she just couldn’t help but think it was a bad time.

She also couldn’t help but mourn the future she’d thought up for herself. The love she’d hoped to feel was never going to happen, and every time she remembered that, her heart sank. Nevertheless, she had agreed. She’d agreed to try and find a solution in the form of someone to marry. She just wasn’t looking forward to it.

Interrupting her thoughts, there was a knock on her bedroom door. It made her jump, causing her fingers to drop her braid. The curls fell, unwinding themselves from one another. Jane grumbled and grabbed her braid before it was too late.

“Jane?” Mattie’s cheerful voice chimed through the door. “Jane, are you ready?”

“I’m getting there,” Jane replied, her voice distant. It was the fourth time that morning that Mattie had come to check on her. She knew her cousin was eager, but to be so insistent— it just wound Jane up a little. The wedding had to happen, she understood that, but her cousin seemed so unaware of how much of a sacrifice Jane felt she was making. It was as if she didn’t care what had to happen as long as it meant everything got back to normal.

“You haven’t got long,” Mattie said, her voice louder this time.

Jane rolled her eyes. “I know.” Her glance shifted over to Mercy, asleep in a crib at the end of her bed. “Keep your voice down, the baby is sleeping.”

“I’m not going to wake up the baby,” Mattie shot back. Jane could practically hear her eyes rolling.

“You don’t know that,” Jane replied. “Just leave me be. Then we won’t risk it.”

Mattie muttered something, but Jane couldn’t quite make out what she was saying.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing! Don’t worry about it,” Mattie shouted through the door. This time, her voice echoed around the room. Jane winced— she knew what was coming next.

Almost immediately, she heard Mercy stir in her cot. A second passed, and soon she was sobbing. The shrill sound filled the room around them, echoing in Jane’s ears. She let out a huff and stood up, letting go of the braid. She stepped over to Mercy, who looked suitably upset. Her little face was scrunched up as she sobbed profusely.

“Look what you’ve done!” Jane exclaimed as she bent down to pick the little one up. This was exactly why she didn’t want to meet a suitor just yet. Who would want a woman that had to constantly bend over backwards for a child that wasn’t even hers? And a ranch that was one missed payment away from being taken back by the bank? Her life was all about Mercy and the ranch, she had not got the time to get to know a man, and the idea of serving a stranger as a husband saddened her. They hadn’t even been honest in the advertisement, so whoever she agreed to marry would be in for a shock. She hadn’t mentioned Mercy. She’d wanted to, but Mattie was sure it would scare people away. But now it was getting close to the time to meet the men that had responded, and the guilt was eating away at her. There was a pit in her stomach that made her feel like waiting to tell them about Mercy was the wrong choice. She was a part of her life, not just an additional surprise to throw at men.

“Well maybe if you hadn’t taken the baby in, it wouldn’t be a problem,” Mattie said as she opened the door. “It’s not like we can even afford a baby right now.”

“I couldn’t just leave her on the doorstep!” Jane said, holding Mercy up against her chest and bouncing gently, hoping it would calm her down.

“You could’ve taken her somewhere else.”

“She needed a home,” Jane said. She looked over at Mattie, her eyes stern and fierce. They had had this discussion many times before. Jane wasn’t having it again.

“And we need money. This ranch is going to fall into disrepair if you don’t pay off our debts and hire new men. And I’m supposed to be leaving to study in Boston— how’s that going to happen if we’re bankrupt?”

Jane rolled her eyes again. Mattie was a smart girl, and she’d always been academic. She was supposed to go and study medicine soon, and Jane’s father had agreed to it. But then he’d died. Mattie was adamant that she was still going. She’d agreed to help Jane for a few months to keep the ranch going, but then she was leaving.

Just discarding Jane and the ranch that she was raised on as if it were nothing. It was why she was so determined to get Jane to marry sooner rather than later. After all, marriage meant money, which meant she could leave and they would have enough food on their plates.

Jane didn’t understand why she was so eager to run away; she knew she wanted to learn, but to her, the university would still be there in a few months, when things were more stable. But there was no changing Mattie’s mind.

An anger began to whirl inside her. She was sacrificing her future, marrying any man that could offer her the greatest financial package, and yet Mattie couldn’t stomach a couple more months in Virginia City to help out a little longer. She just kept pushing. Jane knew what she needed to do. She’d agreed to do it, and yet her cousin wouldn’t let it go, even when it meant waking up the sleeping baby.

“You only care about yourself and your stupid studies,” Jane said, the anger erupting out of her. She’d had a lot of issues controlling her feelings since her father had died. “Stop pretending it’s anything to do with the ranch. You want me to marry so you can go.”