Prologue

Albuquerque, New Mexico

1875

“Hold my hand, Faith. I’m here. I won’t let go of you until the baby arrives.”

Genie held on to her pregnant sister’s hand as she sat next to the bed. She wiped the sweat from her feverish forehead and rinsed the small cloth in the bucket next to her. Even though she had only been in a church a couple of times, she said a silent prayer under her breath.

The smell of alcohol and the raucous chatter of drunk men drifted up the stairs into the small, darkened room shared by the two sisters. Genie stifled her frustration with a sigh. She reached for the cup of water beside the bed and offered a sip to Faith.

“Has Benedict sent for the doctor?” Faith inquired, her voice trembling as another wave of pain hit her. She squeezed Genie’s hand tightly. But Genie could feel her sister was getting weaker.

“He said he would,” Genie offered, although she knew full well that Benedict’s words meant less than dirt. She felt her anger pushing up through her body but knew she had to keep calm. For Faith’s sake.

“If he hasn’t gotten here by the time you’re ready to push, we may have to work together to deliver this baby,” Genie said as she tenderly wiped Faith’s face.

Faith’s eyes widened in fear, and she clutched Genie’s hand. Her hand and voice trembled as she sobbed, “Genie, I can’t. I’m not ready.”

Genie stroked her sister’s soft auburn hair. The color was a strong contrast to her own long, black tresses. She tried to calm her own growing panic. Her sister was only eighteen, a year younger than her, and still a child in Genie’s eyes.

Genie had never seen her sister in pain like this before. She’d never helped a woman give birth before, either. The entire situation unnerved her.

“You’re strong enough for this, Faith, I know you are.” Genie tried to smile at her sister. “Women have been doing this since the beginning of time. You have everything you need, just trust your body, and trust me to catch your darling baby as soon as the child arrives.”

Faith gave her sister’s hand a final panicking squeeze, and sat up shakily. “Genie, I…” A scream ripped out of Faith’s throat and Genie forced herself not to flinch.

“What’s the racket?” A deep gravelly voice at their door announced Benedict’s presence, the saloon owner. He was also the man responsible for Faith’s misery. “We have paying customers trying to enjoy the evening, you know.”

Genie bit back a curse, knowing she needed Benedict on her side at that moment. She ran to the door and opened it a crack, trying to give Faith as much privacy as possible.

She dropped her voice to a whisper. “When’s the doctor coming, Benedict? We asked for him two hours ago.”

Benedict Rash, a large, older gentleman with an immaculate gray suit that matched his graying beard, looked back toward his saloon. “Faith appears to be doing well so I decided it wasn’t worth the money to send for him.”

A muffled scream from Faith echoed behind Genie. She anxiously swept her long black hair back into its updo. For a single dark moment, Genie stood in the door. She considered whether her tall, slim frame would be capable of sending Benedict careening down the stairs.

Although she wanted to, she knew he was the only thing standing between the sisters and homelessness. Faith’s pain had badly frayed her nerves and rage swept through her chest.

“You should have thought of the cost before you laid a hand on my sister,” Genie said as she jabbed a finger toward Benedict’s face.

Benedict batted away Genie’s hand with infuriating calm. “You should be thanking me for giving you saloon girls employment to work off your family’s considerable debt. With any luck, the brat will be a girl who will learn to help her dear mother with the saloon, just as you girls did for your mother.”

Genie felt only wrath and disgust at the fate Benedict suggested for Faith’s unborn child. She opened her mouth to answer but heard a distressing cry from Faith.

“Genie, the baby is almost here, I…” Faith’s voice cut off as she let out another cry.

Genie slammed the door in Benedict’s face before she ran to her sister’s side. “I’m here Faith… I’m here…”

The moments that followed felt like an eternity. Genie would never forget the relief and gratitude that filled her heart as she guided Faith’s child into her arms and heard the small girl’s first cry.

In a haze, Genie cleaned and wrapped the child in a small blanket she’d sewn just for this moment. She rounded her sister’s bedside, holding her sister’s hand tightly before slipping the child into her arms. Faith’s hair stuck to her face with sweat, which Genie wiped away with the cool cloth. Her eyes seemed glassy as she looked at her child. Her heavy breathing echoed through the small room as a single tear tracked down her cheek.

Genie moved to give the mother and child a moment of privacy, but Faith faintly squeezed her hand and pulled her closer.

“Genie, will you take her?” Faith’s breathing suddenly turned panicky. “I think something… something isn’t right.”

“What do you mean?” Genie asked as she took the baby. Terror filled her voice.

Faith looked up at her older sister, her eyes were losing focus. “I think… I… Take care of her, Genie? Promise?”

Genie sank down onto her knees, looking at Faith in disbelief as she started to sob. “I’m here to take care of you both, Faith. What’s wrong? Let me help…”

But it was too late—Faith’s eyes had lost all focus. With a shuddering sigh, the arms that cradled the newborn daughter only moments before fell limp to her sides. Her heaving chest grew still as she breathed out the last time.

Genie let out a strangled cry, clutching the newborn baby to her chest, and shouted for help. The sharp, logical part of her mind knew that there was no one who could help. No one on earth could bring her sister back.

Genie kept screaming anyway.

Chapter One

Albuquerque, New Mexico

1875

An hour after sunset, as the noise in the saloon below started picking up, an angry knock sounded on Genie’s door. She was cradling her sister’s baby in her petite arms, making soft noises in hopes of reassuring the crying child. She paced up and down in the small room her sister died in only four months ago.

Ever since that fateful day, the girl’s cries became the background of Genie’s new life. A life filled with sleepless nights and grief-stricken days. Although the other saloon girls, Greta and Bridget, also took turns caring for the child when Genie’s shifts at the saloon dragged her downstairs, the child’s cries could often be heard all the way into the saloon.

Genie shifted the child in her arms and moved to open the door. Standing on the other side, she found a less-than-sober Benedict pacing up and down on the small landing at the top of the stairs.

Genie recoiled, remembering that the last time Benedict had been upstairs was when her sister was mere moments away from giving birth. The smell of alcohol slammed into Genie’s senses, and her body started to shake with anger.

“What do you want, Benedict?” Genie asked, trying to keep a mellow tone to mask the hint of irritation in her voice.

Benedict swore under his breath and ran a hand through his gray, sweat-slicked hair. “Can you get it to shut up already? I swear business has been slowing down since that child was born.”

“Oh really?” Genie spat; she couldn’t keep her tone from dripping with ire. “Sure, blame the child. It’s the muffled cries from a small child disrupting your business, not the sudden blow to your reputation.”

Benedict’s already ruddy face darkened as he stepped closer. “What do you mean by that?”

“One of the girls under your care died because you were too cheap to send for a doctor,” Genie argued, her voice filled with dismay. “Even the least conscionable of your patrons loved Faith. Maybe grief has soured their taste for carousing.”

“As if you’ve helped!” Benedict’s raised voice hit her hard, causing Genie to step back into the room. “Maybe the saloon would be better off without you and that child as a constant reminder of that night’s tragedy.”

For a moment, Benedict’s words filled Genie with sharp rage. She wanted nothing more than to scream at the saloon owner, yell loud enough so that his customers could hear every last horrible insult she could think of.

But Genie was smart enough to identify the threat in Benedict’s words. Even though life at Benedict’s saloon was barely a life at all, it was all she had ever known.

Without her job as a saloon girl, she had no idea how she’d be able to feed herself or Faith’s child. She was already struggling to buy her meals. Her grief had made her less efficient at earning commissions from the drinks she pushed for Benedict.

“How would it look for your reputation if you pushed your child out into the cold?” Genie grounded out between clenched teeth. “Shouldn’t you be trying to regain your reputation?”

“Have you told the customers that I’m this brat’s father?” Benedict stepped closer, his voice growing low and threatening as he peered at her. “Careful with your sharp tongue, girl. For all we know, your dearly departed sister could have been sleeping with half the town. Any of those poor suckers at the bar could be the child’s father. You’re lucky I’ve extended your line of credit to pay for goat milk for the child.”

“You’ve been… charging me for the child’s food?” Genie was aghast. Her anger rose along with her tone. “You should be paying me for taking care of your child!”

Benedict advanced into the room; his mustache quivered as his rage grew. “That child is already destroying my business with her screams. If you weren’t so set on caring for the little creature, I would have tossed her onto the steps of the church the day her mother died.” The veins on his forehead bulged as he practically stood screaming at her. “If you want to keep the child, keep her quiet and make sure you sell enough drinks to keep the brat fed.”

As if understanding the awful man’s threats, the child broke out into fresh cries. Benedict looked at the child with disgust before turning back toward the stairs. He took a couple of steps and stopped but he did not turn back.

For a moment he just stood there. His hands balled into tight fists by his sides and Genie wondered what he was thinking. After a moment, he spoke again. His tone was lower, but she could still hear the rage. “It’s a full house tonight, Genie. I need every girl on the floor. You have ten minutes to put it to bed and freshen up for the late crowd if you want to keep your position here.”

Before Genie could respond, he headed down and disappeared. She closed the door and stepped back.

Genie shook with fury, staring at the closed door. She couldn’t believe Benedict had been charging her for the child’s food. She couldn’t believe he had just demanded her presence in the saloon on the one night off she’d had in months. How on earth could someone be heartless enough to think only of money after everything that had happened?

Faith’s child started crying louder again, breaking Genie out of her thoughts. Genie kissed her soft skin and held her tight.

She tried bouncing the child softly, hoping she could soothe her to sleep. Whether or not the child stopped crying, Genie knew she needed to go downstairs quickly to avoid Benedict’s rage. Although Benedict was often a man of empty threats, she also knew he was more likely to make good on his rage once alcohol had touched his mind.

Without the upsetting presence of Benedict, Genie was finally able to soothe the child. She placed her down in the weathered secondhand cradle Benedict procured the night after Faith’s death. That, and the milk, were the only kindnesses he had shown since the night of the child’s birth.

No, the milk hadn’t been a kindness, Genie remembered angrily. In her haze of grief, she’d assumed her earnings were dwindling because her patrons had been able to sense her grief under the happy mask she wore while pushing drinks. Now she knew Benedict was taking the money she earned to pay for his child.

A soft sound from the cradle made Genie turn to look at the child. Already she had a thick head of auburn hair, and her tiny fingers balled into fists even as she slept. Genie could see Faith in the soft lines of the child’s face and heard her in her spirited, indignant cries.

Her smooth soft skin glowed as the moonlight hit her face through the open window. As she lay there covered with the peach blanket Genie knitted, she looked like an angel. Genie couldn’t understand how anyone could not love her.

As she stood watching her, Genie was surprised to feel a cold tear slip down her cheek. She batted at it quickly and turned away from the child. She buried her grief in her anger. If she was going to fulfill her promise to her sister, she didn’t have space for sentimentality. If she thought too much about the situation, she would fall apart. If she did, then who was going to take care of Faith’s child?

Bridget often asked her why she hadn’t named the baby yet. Genie always shrugged and replied that she didn’t know what to name the little girl. But in truth, every time she thought of naming the girl, she was reminded of the nights she and Faith huddled in the same bed, excitedly discussing baby names in a whisper.

Faith had been so excited to name her child, so excited for the baby despite the inconveniences it would bring. She had been determined to choose a name that sounded biblical, one that would give her child a chance to create a life of their own. Despite Benedict’s plans to find something useful for the child to do, Faith had been adamant she wanted the child to go to school. She wanted her child to escape the terrible debt that had plagued the sisters since they were born. A debt their mother had been unable to pay before she died.

Genie’s throat tightened as she thought of her sister and her mother. She shook herself out of her thoughts as she knew Benedict would come looking if she did not go downstairs. Pulling her black hair up, she pinned it so that only a few curls could still escape to frame her face.

Many of the patrons who frequented Benedict’s bar always told her they loved her hair with a few strands escaping since it gave the impression, that she’d had a… busy evening. Even though Genie despised the lewd connotation, she needed everything in her favor tonight if she was going to earn enough to keep herself and the child afloat.

With one last glance at Faith’s child to see that she remained asleep, she left the room quietly. Pasting a bright smile on her face, she straightened her voluminous mauve skirt. She knew the dusty mauve contrasted perfectly with her dark hair and blue eyes. The ruffles disguised her thin frame, while the layers added curves to her form and increased her perceived femininity.

Pushing her shoulders back, she descended into the saloon. The shouts of raucous men and the sharp smell of liquor assaulted her senses. As she appeared at the bottom of the stairs, a bawdy cheer erupted from a few of the inebriated men at the bar. Genie squinted through the cigar smoke to see the room packed with somewhere between twenty to thirty men.

A few seated at the saloon’s bar paid handsomely for Benedict’s watered-down drinks. Others were gathered around tables at the sides of the room, gambling with several well-worn decks of cards.

Many of the men were familiar to Genie. Miners, shopkeepers, and even ranch hands gathered regularly in the saloon to spend money that they had gained through honest work. However, the saloon also catered to men of less honest means. A dark table in the back corner hosted a few of the more unsavory types, thugs and outlaws that many tried to give a wide berth. Unfortunately, Benedict considered many of these men to be his own personal friends.

A short blond woman dancing in the middle of the room caught her eye. “Genie!”

The woman, Bridget, escaped her dance partner, sending the ruggedly handsome ranch hand back toward the bar to get a drink. Genie scanned the room to see Greta, a witty red-headed saloon girl, seated at a gambling table and encouraging the men to place higher bets as they enjoyed their drinks.

Bridget lowered her voice as soon as she drew close to Genie. “Did you leave the baby alone?”

Genie nodded as she pushed down the anger trying to take hold of her. “Benedict insisted I come down and help.”

Bridget sighed. “To be honest, I hoped you’d be able to. You always know how to entertain Benedict’s… friends.”

Genie glanced over at the dark table in the corner, exhaling deeply as she saw several rough faces brighten at her appearance. “I’m guessing Benedict has already promised my presence at that table?”

Bridget grimaced. “I’m afraid they didn’t find Greta’s company the most… appealing.”

Genie nodded toward the woman surrounded by grinning ranch hands. “Her way of pushing drinks isn’t particularly subtle, but most men don’t mind as long as they get to share her company. Benedict’s group of thugs are more likely to drink more when their precious egos are being stroked. I bet Benedict summoned me to make them feel special. He’ll expect me to push top-shelf liquor tonight.”

As if on cue, Benedict waved to Genie from the bar, gesturing to his group of friends. Genie dipped her head at him, stifled her anger, and pushed through the crowd toward the dark table. She was welcomed with a few salacious grins and chuckles. With a smile she hoped was dazzlingly bright, she set to work. She inquired coquettishly about the men’s daily activities while moving back and forth from the bar to keep their glasses filled.

Although many of the thugs dressed like gentlemen, much like Benedict, their demeanor was anything but refined. Genie made sure the drinks flowed freely, even though the alcohol made their behavior worse. Soon she found herself shifting under the uncomfortable weight of their stares and crude comments, even though such behavior was normal.

Before Faith’s pregnancy, she’d been able to easily dismiss the men’s depraved talk and gestures. Now the hungry eyes reminded her that her safety was only guaranteed by Benedict. The very man who’d gotten her sister pregnant without a thought as to her future or her safety.

Feeling lightheaded, Genie excused herself and made her way to the bar. Benedict quickly finished his work with a customer and slid down the bar toward her.

“Where’s that golden smile of yours, dove?” Benedict bared his teeth in a hard smile and passed her a cup filled with dark brown liquid. “We’re all counting on you pulling through.”

“We?” Genie asked with doubt, tasting the liquor, and realizing it tasted far more like iced tea than alcohol.

“Well,” Benedict shrugged, his previous anger nowhere to be seen, “I’ll admit, this saloon does better business with you here. So, I’m certainly glad for your company on nights like tonight.”

The older man’s sudden shift in demeanor formed a pit in Genie’s stomach. She’d heard Benedict use that tone before. But only with Faith, often before inviting her to stay late with him at the saloon after the customers left. Faith had refused him time and time again, until one night. The one night that Genie had begged off early with a headache and woke in the morning to see her sister’s bed empty.

No matter how many times Genie had broached the subject, Faith had refused to talk about that night.

Filled with disgust, Genie pushed back from the bar. “I’m going to bed early, Benedict. Your friends are drunker than they should be, and I find myself without any other suitable patrons to cater to.”

Benedict’s face darkened. “You’re not done until I say you’re done, Genie Plater.”

“You don’t own me, Benedict.” Genie stuck her chin forward. “I’m leaving.”

Benedict placed his large hands on the bar as he lowered his voice threateningly. “I may not own you, Genie. But I do own your debt, which now includes the debts left behind by your insufferable family. You’re all that’s left of the Platers, and until every last cent is repaid, you had better do what I say.”

Rage boiled through her. “I was too young to protest when my mother died, and you transferred her debt to Faith and me. But I refuse to be further indebted to the man who stole my sister from me.”

Genie knew her voice was getting too loud. She noticed some of the patrons began to turn toward the fight, curiosity shining in their inebriated eyes. Benedict’s gaze also shifted around the room, weighing the cost of Genie’s request. She could tell he was still thinking of her earlier comment about his dwindling reputation.

“You’re obviously upset,” Benedict ground out through clenched teeth. “Why don’t you go upstairs, and we can finish this conversation in the morning.”

Genie turned on her heels and left the smoke-filled room and the laughter, along with the darkness of the saloon, behind. As she reached the top step, she realized tears were streaming down her face.

She stepped into the room, and looked around, gasping for breath as her tears fell harder. Genie turned and leaned with one hand on the door and locked it. For a moment, she stood watching her tears fall to the floor.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had dared hope that Benedict would let Faith’s debts die with her. But if every last cent had been piled on Genie’s shoulders, she knew the sum was more than she could ever pay. Genie paced the room, feeling like a caged animal.

A soft cooing sound from the cradle broke Genie from her spinning thoughts. The child, peaceful for once, was awake, and wriggled happily in the white nightdress her mother had lovingly stitched for her before she was even born. Both she and her sister had learned to sew from their mother. They wanted to do better for themselves and try to at least look decent when going to town. Genie even sewed herself a blue dress but had not yet had the opportunity to wear it. Her hands were quite capable when it came to sewing.

Grief, rage, and panic clawed through Genie’s chest. Faith had wanted so much more for her child than this. This child deserved so much more than her father’s rage and her mother’s debt.

Clarity swept through Genie’s mind as the beginning of a plan settled in her thoughts.

Allowing no time for second-guessing, she moved quickly. Genie dressed the child and herself warmly as she listened carefully to the sounds of the saloon below slowly fading into stillness. It was midweek and most of the patrons left early. Once she was sure the saloon was closed, she crept down the stairs with the child. She slid in behind the bar, moved aside a colorful oil painting, and revealed Benedict’s safe.

She’d caught glimpses of him entering the combination over the years. It only took a few tries for her to open the safe. She stifled a gasp at the stacks of money. There was more than Benedict would ever need. Hopefully, more than he could properly keep track of. She took two-hundred dollars in small bills from the safe.

Genie felt sure it would be enough for her and the child to live on until she found another job. She looked around, ensuring no one was coming, and replaced the painting. She felt relief as she neared the door, and grateful that the child was quiet.

Snow fell as Genie exited the saloon. For a single terrifying moment, Genie realized she had no idea which way to go.

But with nothing except painful memories and inescapable debts behind her, she started to walk east. She had heard people talking about the beautiful ranches out that way once they passed through the mountains. Although she had no destination in mind, she would try to focus on putting as much distance between her and Benedict as possible. She was sure he would not expect her to head out into the widespread mountain area.

As the night unfolded before her, panic clawed its way into her chest. She was afraid of the darkness, afraid of the threats it might conceal. She feared the biting cold that was making her steps heavy and her lungs ache.

But she was even more afraid of Benedict. Frightened of being trapped in that saloon, of dying in that darkened room at the top of the stairs. She knew she had to move quickly and disappear into the night to find a place where Benedict’s rage could never, ever touch her and the child again.

Faith’s child was falling asleep in her arms, wrapped snugly in multiple blankets as she walked. She pushed forward until the saloon disappeared in the dark behind them. She walked for what felt like a lifetime.

Once she entered the mountains, she could slow down slightly, as the rush of her escape subdued a little. Eventually, she could see some flat ground ahead through the heavy trees, and stone formations of the mountain.

Genie felt the cold creeping up into her coat, penetrating her skin. Her face burned and the strands of hair that hung over her ears felt glued to them. The moon was rising slower as the dead of night drew closer.

Her feet ached, her skinny legs trembled from the cold and exhaustion, and her lungs burned by the time she exited the trees. In front lay the road she was sure would lead her to freedom, but how much energy did she have left in her?

The snow was starting to cover the road and fields; soon she would not know if she was still following it.

Genie felt her body dragging, the pain and cold had seeped into her bones. Her body was unwilling, but her mind knew better. Her motivation and fear kept her going. She had to find safety from Benedict for herself and Faith’s baby.