“You think I’m here for your land,” she said, her voice steady.
“No,” he growled, eyes narrowing. “You’re here because I need you—and I don’t like needing anyone.”
Irene’s world has always revolved around caring for others, first her late mother, then her father, and most recently her younger sister. With the family sinking into poverty, the sisters have only one way out—a mail-order bride ad. “I never wanted this,” Irene mutters to herself as she steps off the stagecoach. But it’s too late to turn back now. She faces the cold barrel of a gun and the very man she’s meant to marry… “Who are you?” he demands.
Arthur’s world is built on fear of more loss and chaos. Since his wife’s death, he’s isolated himself and sheltered his daughter, driven by guilt. His brothers, eager for independence, stir the pot in the household, while his uncle’s distrust hangs over them all. “I protect my family, no matter the cost,” he believes—though his walls keep him from the one thing he needs: love. But when Irene steps into his life, she’s a challenge he can’t ignore…
As they face a gang bent on taking what isn’t theirs, they realize that the future they’re building may not be the one they thought—if it even exists at all…
Beneath the Nevada skies, so wide and deep,
Two hearts are bound by promises they keep.
In dust and storms, they find the strength to stand,
Facing fears together, hand in hand.
Reno, Nevada, 1887
Tillie looked at the scratch marks on the walls as her belly rumbled. She rubbed her parched, aching throat.
“Three days. I’ve been kept prisoner in this tiny room for three days. Are they just going to let me starve to death?” she muttered to herself.
She looked at the broken nail she had used to scratch the tally marks on the wall. It had a bit of blood underneath from a splinter. Tillie unconsciously sucked on her sore finger, willing herself not to cry or panic.
The room was dark except for the single gas lamp that stood on a small table, casting black shadows in the corners, making Tillie shiver. She could almost feel the evil presence radiating from the darkness. Sinister fingers seemed to reach out to her. She had never been afraid of the dark before, but then again, she had never encountered anyone as diabolical as her new husband.
A large bed with a huge oak frame and a cotton mattress was against one corner. The linen sheets, wool blanket, and comforter didn’t help ward off the cold that filled the air despite the spring days.
The door only opened twice a day, long enough for someone to push in a pitcher of water and a few pieces of bread. Then, before she could see who was leaving the food, it slammed shut again.
She was sure that a couple more days like this would make her go insane or starve to death.
Biting her bottom lip, she paced the small ten-by-ten bedroom, her mind churning a million miles an hour. Fear gripped her heart. Her chest tightened, and her eyes burned with unshed tears. Her breaths came in shallow gasps. She sat down on the bed and pulled her knees up to her chest. The idea that she might never be able to leave this room clawed at her.
She had no idea where she was or what her husband, Maurice, planned to do to her.
“Where is Irene? Have they already killed her?” she whispered, worrying about her older sister.
Her eyes darted around the prison she had been in since she overheard her husband’s dire plot. She couldn’t believe she was in this predicament. It was so very different than what she had imagined when she excitedly answered the ad to be a mail-order bride.
As soon as she’d overheard Maurice talking to another man, Tillie tried to run away. She’d had no idea where she would go since she didn’t have Irene’s address, but she’d been adamant about finding a way to escape. Maybe, she’d foolishly thought, she could go to the sheriff for help, and he could tell her how to find her sister.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t gotten far when Maurice grabbed her and locked her in this room.
Tillie shuddered at the memory.
She sat down on the bed and buried her face in her hands, trying hard not to cry. She swallowed the large pang of guilt that threatened to overwhelm her.
“I should have listened to Irene. She told me that I needed to learn how to read and write better. She always told me that my reading skills were rudimentary.”
She couldn’t stop the tears that escaped as she thought about what had occurred.
Looking forward to escaping the mining town of Bodie, California, and being able to stay close to her sister, she had been excited by the prospect of being a mail-order bride. Maurice had said that there was a very nice man in the area who was a rancher and was also looking for a wife. Maurice thought that Irene would be a great fit.
She and Maurice had gotten married the same day she stepped off the train. It all happened so fast that it seemed surreal. As soon as the marriage vows were said, they had gone back to Maurice’s house. He had handed her a stack of papers.
“Sign these,” he had ordered.
Tillie had looked at him, wide-eyed. His tone had completely changed. Gone was the friendly, charming person who had walked down the aisle with her. He had been replaced with a hard-toned man with icy-blue eyes that could cut right through a person.
He had tapped the papers impatiently. “Sign them.”
“What are they for?”
“To make our marriage legal and to share our assets.”
She’d had no choice but to believe her new husband, as he wasn’t going to give her enough time to study the papers and try to understand them. Slowly and deliberately, she signed the documents.
Grinning widely, he’d snatched them almost before the ink had dried on them. An excited light flickered in his eyes, and he seemed almost like a kid who was just awarded a handful of candy.
“Technically, it’s not to share assets. Congratulations, you now own all of my debt. You just signed for it.”
Tillie’s head had swum in confusion. “I don’t understand. Since we are married, wouldn’t that make us both equally liable for the debt?”
“Normally, yes, but since you signed those papers, it’s all on you.” His once-fetching grin had twisted, becoming wolfish and cold. “Don’t worry, your job for me isn’t done.”
An icy finger had traveled down her spine at the leer on his face. She pulled her shawl tighter around her.
“Don’t worry. You’re safe that way—at least for now. I have other work for you to do.”
Tillie hated how her voice shook when she’d asked, “What kind of work?”
“You’ll find out in due time.”
“I don’t understand. What if I don’t want to do the work?”
“You will comply, or not only will I end you, but I will also make sure that your sister’s body is never found,” he’d said menacingly.
Tillie shivered at the memory. Her breath caught in her throat, strangling her, as her heart raced in her chest. Her eyes scanned the room for the thousandth time, hoping to find some way to escape.
A sudden noise made her stomach twist into a knot. She didn’t think it was time for someone to bring her water and bread, although she couldn’t be sure. It was hard to tell time in the perpetual darkness.
She jumped off the bed and pressed herself against the wall.
A tall, handsome man with a long scar on his right cheek walked into the room. His ice-cold blue eyes surveyed her body, from the top of her head to her feet and back up. His wavy dark brown hair made him physically attractive and hid the monster inside of him. He smiled at her. This was the same evil smile that sent a tremor of fear coursing through her body.
She stared at her husband, wanting to crawl into herself and disappear. However, she refused to let him see just how terrified she was.
“Have you enjoyed the accommodations?” he asked sarcastically.
“Oh, very much so, thank you,” Tillie replied, working hard to keep her tone pleasant and light. “I had been needing time to think and meditate.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Excellent. Have you been thinking about my proposition?”
“It’s crossed my mind.”
“Don’t get cheeky with me. I don’t have any compunctions about raising my hand to a lady.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she glared at him. She bit back the words she wanted to spit at him because she had no doubt that he meant exactly what he said.
“Are you willing to do what I ask you to? Or will you do something foolish, like try to run away again, if I let you out of here?”
She looked down at the floor without answering. No chains bound her, but she was weak, hungry, and exhausted. There was no way that she could escape, even if she was brave enough to try. She was sure that Maurice wouldn’t hesitate to kill her if he thought for a second that she was going to run.
Another man’s deep voice caught Tillie’s attention.
“Don’t beg. Give her an incentive to help and show her what will happen to her if she doesn’t decide to obey us.”
An arrow of pure terror pierced Tillie’s heart when she heard the man speak. She looked toward the door and saw a short, thick man with a red, blotchy face standing behind Maurice. She thought he was wearing a tan uniform, but she was too frightened to look at him for very long.
“Well? Do I have to beat an answer out of you?”
“If I do what you tell me to, you’ll leave my sister alone?” Tillie asked, hating the fear that was evident in her voice.
“Yes,” Maurice grunted, but his evil smile made her think he was lying.
“Unless she gets in our way,” the man behind him muttered.
As he turned and walked away, Tillie thought she saw something pinned to his chest, something shiny that caught the light, but she couldn’t be sure. Her eyes were watering, and she was still trying to adjust to the sudden brightness that filled the room.
Her soul felt as though it had been touched by Satan’s own hand, and a cold dread crept over her.
“If you promise me that she’ll be safe, then I’ll help you,” she whispered.
Maurice cupped his ear and leaned closer to Tillie. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear you.”
Tillie’s hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, and she narrowed her eyes at the man who stood in the doorway, mocking her. “I said I would help you if you promise that Irene will be safe,” she said louder, gritting her teeth.
“And you won’t try to run away again? Because the next time you try that, after I catch you, you’ll suffer far more than simply being locked up in a room. And I will catch you.”
His voice was low and dangerous.
Tillie was sure that the next time she ran, he would kill her and dispose of her body where it would never be found.
“I understand. I won’t try to run.”
Maurice’s lips curled into the cruel leer she had come to dread. “Good girl. Now, come with me so I can explain exactly what you’ll be doing for us.” His voice was almost cheerful, and Tillie thought it was more frightening than the darkness that typically coiled around his words.
At least the other voice isn’t hiding anything.
Tillie stood, her legs shaking and her heart pounding as she followed him out of the room.
She knew with a terrible certainty that she had just sealed not only her own fate but Irene’s, as well.
Reno, Nevada, 1887
“What if Reno isn’t as nice as we think?” Irene asked, smoothing her skirt. “What if our husbands end up being toads and meaner than a nest full of hornets?”
“My heavens, Irene. You are always the pessimist. Why in the world can’t you simply accept that something good could happen?” Tillie barked, clearly annoyed.
Irene looked at her sister and narrowed her eyes. She loved her sister, but there were days when she wanted to strangle her.
Heaving a sigh of frustration, she replied, “Maybe because I’ve had to face life head-on since you were born. Life isn’t about rainbows and roses. It’s one hard time after another.”
Tillie groaned at her. “For once in your life, please just accept that something good could happen.”
Irene started to reply, but the conductor walked through the car and called out, “Next stop, Reno. Reno, Nevada, in ten minutes.”
Her heart thudded in her chest, and Irene tried to catch her breath.
What did I let her talk me into doing? This is the craziest idea—to travel all this way to marry someone I don’t even know. What was I thinking?
The string of thoughts ran through her mind like the chorus from a song, over and over again. Still, she was more worried for Tillie than she was for herself.
Irene had been forced to grow up quickly when their mother had died giving birth to Tillie. Irene had been only six and took on the role of mother while helping her father, the best she could, to take care of the house. Irene knew she was tough and could handle whatever was thrown at her. Tillie, on the other hand, had been coddled, and Irene was afraid that if this adventure turned sour, Tillie wouldn’t be able to take care of herself.
I know I shouldn’t have spoiled her so much. I should have made her clean up her own messes and face the consequences of her mistakes. I guess I just thought that was what I was supposed to do since I had to take care of her. I was wrong.
Worry and dread grew inside of Irene until it threatened to overwhelm her. When the train came to a complete stop, she had to swallow several times to keep her heart from exploding out of her chest and to find her breath.
Tillie must have been feeling a little anxious because she was strangely quiet for once. Her little sister always had something to say about every situation.
They stepped onto the platform and walked toward the station. Suddenly, a man appeared in front of them from out of nowhere. His hat was pulled low over his face, so Irene couldn’t get a good look at him.
“Tillie Mathews?” his deep, gravelly voice asked.
“Yes.”
Irene was sure she heard her sister’s voice shake a little, although she didn’t know if it was from excitement for the new adventure or anxiety from the unknown. She reached for her hand and squeezed it, trying to comfort her sister, letting her know she would always be there for her.
“Let’s go. I’m Jake. I’ll take you to Maurice. He’s waiting for you at the ranch.”
Irene hugged Tillie. “Please take care of yourself. I’ll be close by if you need me.”
“Don’t be silly. These are our new lives. It will be great.”
Watching her sister walk off with the stranger without even a backward glance made Irene’s gut twist into a knot. For a second, she was afraid she was going to be sick. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right with this situation.
Irene looked around but didn’t see anyone who might be there to pick her up. No one paid any attention to her. They simply went about their business as though she were invisible.
Maybe he forgot what day I was coming in? Maybe he changed his mind?
She sat on the wooden bench, with her trunk next to her, and thought about Tillie’s plan. Her sister was the one who had answered the advertisement for the mail-order bride first. When Tillie mentioned Irene and said that she wanted her sister to be close by, her husband-to-be said that Arthur was a great man and was looking for a wife. She had been expecting a warm welcome, but here she was, alone, with no one to take her to her new home.
He’s obviously a great man. He couldn’t even be bothered to meet me here.
She smoothed her skirts and then crossed one leg over the other before tapping her foot on the wooden floor impatiently. Irene imagined that she could hear the minutes ticking away as she waited for her future husband to come get her.
Frustration flickered in her chest, and she growled in the back of her throat. She replayed the last letter she’d sent and knew she was crystal clear about the time she would arrive.
The sounds of chattering people, suitcases being dragged along the wooden planks, and the chugging of the train wheels as they departed grated on her nerves, making her want to scream. The longer she sat there, the angrier she became. The least that Tillie’s fiancé could have done was to take her to Arthur’s place and make sure she arrived at her final destination safely.
After an hour, she dragged her trunk back into the station and found the baggage clerk. “It seems there has been a miscommunication about my time of arrival. I was wondering if I could leave my trunk here until my friends can fetch it.”
“Absolutely, miss.” The man put an orange ticket around the handle of her worn, battered trunk, tore off one end, and handed it to her. “You’ll need this to claim it.”
“Thank you, sir.”
I hope that my future husband can be bothered to come get it.
“No problem, miss.” He picked up the trunk, put it on his shoulder, and carried it to a backroom, where other trunks with similar orange tickets were stacked.
Irene stepped back outside, blinking in the bright sunlight, hoping her future husband had magically appeared while she was inside. Unfortunately, no one seemed to be searching for her.
A woman with a friendly face was in front of the general store, about to enter. She had dark brown hair with a few gray hairs interspersed, warm brown eyes, and a kind face.
Irene took a deep breath and approached her. “Excuse me, ma’am. I was wondering if you could help me.”
The woman smiled. “My name is Agnes. How can I help?”
“My name is Irene, and I just arrived on the train an hour ago.” She handed the letter from Arthur to the woman. “I was expecting to be picked up, but there’s no one here.”
Agnes read the letter and looked at Irene. Her eyes were wide, and she raised her eyebrows as she studied her.
“Well, this is unexpected. Arthur isn’t known for being interested in finding a wife.”
Irene’s heart skipped a beat, and then she just figured that maybe he wasn’t the type of man to air his business in town.
“I guess he wasn’t making any announcements. Can you tell me how to get there?”
Agnes looked at her for a minute and nodded.
“Well, dear, you’re going to head out of town toward the Truckee River.” Agnes pointed in the direction of the river. “From the station, walk straight down the main road until you reach the wooden bridge that crosses over the river. You can’t miss it. Cross that bridge and stay on the road heading east.”
Irene nodded, trying to picture the directions Agnes provided in her mind.
“You’ll see the Carson Trail fork off to your left after a bit. Don’t take that. You want to stay on the dirt road that follows the river a little longer. You’ll pass by the Andersons’ ranch first. A big white house with a red barn and some apple trees will be in front. Arthur’s place is another mile or two after that.”
Irene sighed and nibbled on her bottom lip.
“Eventually, you’ll come to a small wooden sign with his name carved into it. His place is up the hill, a little way off the road. The path is narrow, but it’s not hard to follow. When you get to the big oak tree, you’ll know that you’re close. Just keep going until you see the house.”
“Thank you,” Irene said softly, trying to keep the anger and frustration out of her voice. Agnes had been kind to her and didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of her ire.
“It’s a good walk, but the weather’s nice. Keep an eye out for rattlesnakes if you decide to cut through the tall grass.”
“I appreciate it,” Irene said, stepping into the street and walking in the direction Agnes had told her to go.
She looked back and saw that Anges was still watching her.
Irene glanced back to the road. “The last thing I need to do is trip over some bloody rock.”
Her face was flaming red from the embarrassment of having to ask for help and from rage.
“I don’t want to walk a couple of miles to meet my prospective husband. This is probably a huge setup,” she muttered to herself.
She peered at the station and then back at the road. Growling, she put one foot in front of the other, determined to get to the ranch before it got too hot.
She’d just get back on the train and go home if she had any money left. However, she’d spent all their money on the train fare to Reno, and she had no home to go to. The bank had taken everything after their father had died to pay for debts.
“If nothing else, I can knock on his door and tell him exactly what I think about his rudeness.”
She gritted her teeth and clenched her hands into hard, white-knuckled fists.
Maybe he doesn’t think a wife is important enough to leave his ranch for.
Rubbing her face, her shoulders slumped, and she blinked away the exhaustion. Hurrying to pack what they were taking and disposing of the rest of their belongings had taken a lot of time and energy. She had cried, secretly, when disposing of her father’s clothes and other items. Irene would never let Tillie see her cry.
The train ride had been no picnic either. Tillie wanted to talk for most of the trip, not letting Irene close her eyes and get a second of rest. When Tillie wasn’t talking, one of the toddlers of a harried-looking woman ran up and down the train, babbling, crying, and trying to get attention. Right now, Irene was certain she could lay down in a nice bed and sleep for a week, and it still wouldn’t be enough.
Thanks, Tillie, for getting me into this mess. You could have simply come out here and left me in Bodie. I’m sure I would have figured something out.
Irene admitted that she couldn’t blame everything on her sister. She had been cautiously excited about this potential new adventure. It was a way to escape the mining town and the poverty they had lived in their entire lives. She had been looking forward to the idea of having a nice roof over her head and knowing where her next meal would come from.
The white house loomed ahead on her right.
She looked at it appreciatively. “I hope my new house looks something like that. It’s incredibly beautiful.”
A woman stepped outside with a basket of clothes and stared curiously at Irene as she walked by. Irene waved at her.
If she’s going to be my neighbor, I may as well be friendly, Irene thought, even though, right at this moment, she felt anything but friendly.
The woman gave a small, hesitant wave back and then ducked back into the house.
“She’s probably wondering what, in high heaven, a lone woman is doing walking along a dirt road, carrying a large bag and a handbag. I supposed I would be a bit worried or suspicious, too.”
Irene was well aware that she was talking to herself.
If anyone else heard me, they’d probably lock me up in a lunatic asylum. I might be worried, too, but luckily, I know from reading William James’ theories and journals like The American Journal of Psychology that it’s simply a way to verbalize my thoughts and work out my problems.
Shaking her head, she gave a wry smile. She had always used humor when she was stressed out or when times were difficult.
She continued to trudge down the dirt trail. Her bags were growing extremely heavy, and putting one leg in front of the other was getting more difficult. Normally, a couple-mile walk wouldn’t be challenging, but she was tired, angry, and anxious.
“Maybe he had an emergency he had to tend to, although you would think he would send someone to fetch me.”
Finally, after what seemed like forever, but in reality, it was probably just a little more than an hour, she saw the small wooden sign that read Willborn Ranch.
Walking a little faster, she spotted the large oak tree and then, finally, the house.
Wearily, she climbed the wooden steps on the porch. She heard a baby crying and men’s raised voices coming from inside.
She sucked in a huge breath of air to steady her nerves. Irene set her bag on the porch next to her feet, and with shaking hands, she smoothed her hair and skirt. Her heart thundered a million miles an hour, and her throat felt like there was a huge knot in it. She closed her eyes briefly and knocked.
The icy hand of fear gripped her heart when the door opened, and a handsome man stood in front of her, holding a gun aimed straight at her face.
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I enjoyed the preview. It is ani interesting story.
I can’t wait to rad the complete book. It is very interesting.
Wow this sounds good. I am ready for the book