Prologue

Baytown, Texas

1862

This was becoming a ritual. A routine.

“It’s okay,” June cooed to Etta as she sat next to her on the floor of their room. She hated that this was always happening to young Etta Fletcher; that she continued to be struck and bullied by the older girls in the house. The truth was, it wasn’t okay—but then again, neither was being an orphan.

And yet, there they were, at an orphanage, surrounded by the rest of the scoundrel throwaways of the Wild West during the war.

June grimaced as she held Etta’s chin steady between her forefinger and thumb to finish soothing the girl’s busted lip. Blood dripped from the small scratch under Etta’s eye. Her dirty blonde hair clung to her sweat-soaked forehead, and her dirty cheeks were flushed with pain. It looked like they’d done a number on her; boxed her good. And for what?

“We’ll get you good as new.” June gently dabbed the cloth up Etta’s face, pursing her lips as she saw the tears in the younger girl’s eyes.

Etta winced but didn’t cry. June was proud of that. It was something she had told her time and time again. Never let them see you cry.

Still, June Thatcher was tired of seeing her best friend bullied and harassed day in and day out—likely just as tired of it as Etta was tired of being bullied. Those degenerates had nothing better to do than to make her life even more miserable than it already was.

“They’re just jealous,” Ada remarked as she perched over the side of the cot. Her dark curls were matted with sweat, her cheeks red and chapped from being out in the sun all day.

June sighed. Ada Birch was not the encouraging type. She was as fierce as a leather whip—until it came to her friends, and that was something June could understand all too well.

“You have something they don’t, Etta,” Ada argued, her voice sharp.

Etta gave a snort that was muffled by the cloth June was pressing to her face. “Yeah, like a target on my back?” she asked.

June shook her head. “They hate what they can’t break,” she replied. “You’re stronger than them. They know it.”

“If I’m so strong, then why do I keep getting hurt?”

June looked at Ada and then Etta. She didn’t have an answer—not to that question. But she did have an answer to the issue, to all their issues.

“Supper is being fed to the dogs!” a shrill voice screamed out, causing all three girls to jump. “If you haven’t eaten—tough!”

“Darn it!” Ada exclaimed. “I haven’t eaten all day!”

“She isn’t giving anything to the dogs. She’ll surely eat it all herself!” Etta gasped, almost angrily, as June finished cleaning her bloodied lip.

June shook her head. There had to be a change. They couldn’t keep living in this place. The bullying wasn’t even the worst of it. The worst of it came from the worst woman in the continental states: Madam Pilser.

And as far as June was concerned, her mind was made up. It’s time. She wasn’t quite sure why today was any different than any other day Etta had been bullied; but something was urging her this time. It’s now or never. “We’re not staying here,” she said abruptly.

She spoke with such certainty that Ada’s head snapped up in surprise. “You’re serious this time, aren’t you?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

June looked back at her firmly. “Dead serious. We’ve talked about it for years, but it’s time. Tonight, we’re gone.”

She knew Ada, and Ada knew her. There was no use arguing. Once her mind was made up, it was made up.

Etta’s eyes widened as she pulled away from June’s touch. “Gone where?” she asked, looking between her two friends.

“To the city,” June said determinedly. “We’ll catch the wagon train. It’ll be loud and busy enough to hide us, and once we get to where we’re going, we’ll find jobs. Start fresh, where no one knows us.”

Ada tilted her head, observing June skeptically. June carefully avoided her gaze, eyes darting across the room. Think fast. She tucked a strand of wavy brown hair behind her ear as it fell loose from her braid.

Ada would be the most critical of all of them—so June had to have a bulletproof plan. Fortunately, she knew Ada well. And clearly, Ada was also intrigued. She had to be. “Jobs doing what, exactly?” Ada asked, her brow raised.

“Anything,” June said quietly as she shrugged. “Cooking, cleaning, sewing…whatever gets us a roof over our heads.”

Etta frowned. “I can’t sew to save my life.”

“Then don’t sew,” Ada snorted. “You can be a singer. Lord knows you do it enough when you’re scrubbing floors.”

A small, faint smile that June hadn’t seen in a long while pulled at Etta’s lips. “Maybe I will. What about you, Ada? What’s your big plan?”

Ada crossed her arms, leaning back against the wall. A confident look spread across her face, like she’d been waiting a while for someone to ask her that very question. “Oh, me?” she grinned, gesturing to herself, the dimple in her cheek appearing. “I’m going to be rich. Own a shop. Something big and important.”

June snorted softly. “Of course you’d say that.”

Ada always had big dreams. Likely it had to do with her parents owning an inn, before they were killed by bandits. But a dream like that seemed completely out of reach. A woman owning a shop was already difficult, but that woman being an orphan girl? No status? No connections?

“And you?” Etta asked June, tilting her sweet, bruised face to look at June beneath long lashes.

June hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the washcloth in her hand. “I just want us safe,” she said. “Somewhere quiet, where no one can tell us what to do.”

Ada rolled her eyes. “You’re so boring.”

The door to their room creaked, and the sharp voice of Madam Pilser barked from the hallway. “Lights out!”

June shot a warning glance at both the girls before jumping up to blow out the candle on the windowsill. The room was swallowed in darkness, save for the faint glow of moonlight streaming through the cracks in the shutters.

Taking a deep breath, June dropped to her cot, pulling the threadbare cover up to her chin. “Goodnight, Etta. Goodnight, Ada.”

“Goodnight, June,” the girls said in unison.

June stared at the ceiling, her mind racing.

What do I want?

She knew one thing for certain: her friends should be happy. Ada with her shop. Etta singing to a crowd of adoring faces.

And maybe… I could settle down, too.

Maybe one day, she might even be seen as more than just a caretaker.

Maybe… a partner. A friend. A lover.

Maybe—just maybe—there would be a man out there she could fall in love with and have children with.

A real family.

***

If June hadn’t been too busy worrying about her friends, she would’ve had to be honest with herself: the city had hit them like a train. Hard. Fast. It left them in nothing but pieces—in only three days.

It had been easy getting out of the orphanage. Madam Pilser never paid much mind to anyone or anything except her own pockets and her own round belly. Everything else was routine to her. Yelling for breakfast, yelling for lunch, yelling for supper. Spanking the kids who sassed her. The other matrons were far too busy dealing with all the serious issues around the place to notice her ill treatment.

It wasn’t hard for June and her friends to just walk out the door and hop a train with some change June had picked up from what Madam Pilser’s sons left in the barn every Saturday evening after playing jacks.

She wasn’t sure why in the world she hadn’t tried leaving years ago. She’d saved plenty of money. Then again, she wasn’t sure she would have lasted one night in a big city like this if she’d left the orphanage any younger. Even now, she was only sixteen,.

After arriving in Galveston, they’d gotten a room at the inn in town for the first night, but she’d quickly realized that the spare change she’d collected wasn’t enough for a second night. The last two nights, they’d slept outside the inn, near the horse troughs, hoping someone would take pity on them. Several strange men had approached, but they sure hadn’t given the girls any kind of help. June was beginning to realize that the world was just as bad as the orphanage.

June knew they couldn’t sleep outside again. It was going to be too dangerous. People were starting to notice. It wasn’t like the city she had imagined. Galveston was dirty—and hateful. The streets were muddy from too many feet traipsing over them, and the grimy buildings stood gloomily on either side. Men shouted over the din of rattling wagon wheels, and tired horses snorted impatiently as they stood against the posts outside of buildings. No beautiful, lavish dresses scattered the streets. There were beautiful dresses, but the girls hadn’t been allowed to go into the shops to look at them. Shopkeepers took one look at them and began to scowl. It was like they could tell the girls had no money. June knew to steer clear of most of the shops after that. They stayed in the street.

But the city air was nothing like they had expected, either. It wasn’t freeing. It wasn’t full of bakery smells or wood-warmed ovens. it was thick with the smell of manure, sweat, and something fried that made June’s stomach churn with hunger—the kind of hunger that hurt. They hadn’t eaten since their first day at the inn, and she felt starved, and dirty. Her hair was greasy, clinging to her neck, only barely in its braid. The three girls had been treated like nothing more than peasant vagrants. No one in town cared if they lived or died. The only ones to show any interest were dirty old men who definitely didn’t want to hire three young women for honest work.

And considering how hungry the three of them were, death seemed pretty likely.

June felt Etta tremble next to her and clutched her hand instinctively. Etta was only two years younger than her, but it sometimes felt like more. “We’ll figure it out,” June said, leaning in close to Etta’s ear.

Ada trailed behind, growling at anyone who came too close. “We already figured it out, didn’t we?” she snapped, her voice hot with frustration. “We were idiots to come here and hope someone would take us in for two nickels and a smile.” June stayed quiet, scanning the streets for another place that looked safe for the night. They didn’t want to be forced out before they even got their bearings. A worn sign for a “boarding house” dangled precariously from its chain, but the windows were cracked, and a drunken man was passed out on the stoop. That wasn’t safe. June knew that for sure. Etta sniffled, and June’s heart ached. Did I steer them wrong? Had she jumped on this too soon, without a real plan in place?

She sighed and halted, leaning down slightly to meet Etta’s wide, tear-filled eyes. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. We’ll find something. We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

“But we don’t belong here,” Etta whispered, her lip quivering. “We should’ve stayed back at the orphanage.”

“We didn’t belong there, either,” Ada scoffed, but before she could say anything else, a deep. silky-smooth voice, warm as molasses, spoke up behind them.

“You girls look lost.” June turned quickly, instinctively pushing Etta behind her. A man stood just a few feet behind Ada, tall and broad-shouldered. His shirt was crisp and white, nothing like the grimy clothes of the city travelers. In fact, all his clothes were clearly tailored, some of the nicest June had ever seen. He looked rich—famous, maybe. His face was clean-shaven, his jaw strong, his eyes a disarming hazel that gleamed bewitchingly. It was like he was staring right through her.

“Would you like some help?” he asked.

June eyed him carefully. He didn’t look like the other men they had passed. He wasn’t yelling or drunk or scowling. He smiled, but it wasn’t overly eager. Just… kind. Warm.

But June hesitated, her instincts warring with her longing for help. She’d learned enough by now to know not to trust anyone. Why did he want to help them?

“We’re fine,” Ada replied sharply, narrowing her eyes at him as she looked him up and down. Ada didn’t trust anyone, either.

But the man’s smile didn’t falter. Instead, a laugh escaped him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. Just figured you might need some help. It’s not easy for young women out here alone, and from the looks of it, you ladies have had a difficult journey.”

June and Ada exchanged cautious glances as he kept talking. “You ladies slept outside an inn last night, eh? Well, that was my inn, and if you ladies are looking for work, I got a few rooms that need cleaning. If you work for me, one of them is yours to share.”

“You’re offering us jobs?” Ada asked suspiciously.

“Sure am,” the man said, his grin widening as he held out his hand. “I’m Trey Bishop. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Chapter One

Galveston, Texas

1867

“You little thief!” the man roared from the doorway, freezing all three girls in place.

What happened next was a blur of motion: his grip on Etta’s wrist; his heated threats; Ada’s fist slamming into his throat.

It was all June could do to pull her away as the man released Etta with a shout of pain. “Run!” she yelled, snatching Etta’s free hand. Before he recovered, the three girls were already sprinting down an alleyway, safely out of sight and hearing.

But June didn’t let the girls stop—not for another few miles. They kept up the pace, darting through alleyways and side streets, until they reached the inn outside of town. She didn’t even let up until she’d locked the door of their room behind them.

They had to get out of town. Fast. Before news broke that the most sought-after housemaids in town were stealing from people.

“Grab the bags. We’re leaving. Now,” June ordered in a panic.

“We can’t go back to Trey empty-handed!” Ada’s voice cracked.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” June snapped, grabbing Etta’s arm to keep her from tripping. “That’s why we have to leave! Now, hurry!”

In a few breathless minutes, the girls had haphazardly gathered their few possessions and she was hurrying them back down into the street.

Etta whimpered, still clutching the brooch she’d been caught stealing. “I didn’t mean to get caught. I’m sorry…”

Gasping for breath, June glanced over her shoulder, scanning the streets for signs of any pursuit. It looked like they were in the clear for now. She turned back to look at the younger girl. “It’s not your fault, Etta. We did what we had to do.”

“Then why does it feel so bad?” Etta’s voice broke as tears welled in her eyes.

June and Ada sighed simultaneously, each looping an arm around their friend. As far as June was concerned, Etta was right. It was worse than bad. It was awful.

And the worst part was that she was the reason the girls had become tied up in all of this.

I should never have accepted Trey’s offer.

***

June led the girls quickly to the Galveston post office. From all the gossip at the inn during the past few days, she’d heard about a wagon train that was heading out west. She bought passage for the three of them with darn near the last coin they had left, which might not have been the best choice—but she didn’t care. Now that Etta had been caught, she’d do anything to get them all away.

Trey Bishop was going to be waiting for them, and he would want them to deliver what they promised him.

Their chances of lasting another day in Galveston without trouble were over, and now she had to come up with a plan, and fast. But in the meantime, the wagon train would carry them further from the city. At least that might be long enough for her to come up with something! There was another breathless rush as June snatched the tickets and pulled Ada and Etta behind her until they reached a small vacant seat at the back of a large, boisterous man with plenty of seats in his wagon. He welcomed them without a second thought, but June didn’t breathe easily until the Galveston city buildings were a smudge on the horizon.

The wagon they were on rumbled beneath them, and it swayed across the heavy and beaten path. She sighed heavily and tipped her head back, her eyes closing. We’re so doggone close to getting out. The train was by far their best chance at escaping Trey’s grasp.

She didn’t know where in the world this wagon train was off to—somewhere further west—but she knew that anything was better than sticking around town and then being thrown in jail. This wasn’t the first time they had been caught. She knew they would be safe from the law. They always were—Trey made sure of it. But this time, she knew they’d be in deep trouble with him because they’d left behind all their loot—and he was expecting her to pay up. All except a stupid brooch and a few measly coins.

June was still trying to piece together a plan: something that would satisfy Trey and get them off the hook. But she knew from experience that it wouldn’t be easy. Especially not without anything to show for our theft.

Ada sat cross-legged beside her, examining her scraped knuckles, while Etta huddled next to edge of the wagon, staring down at the passing ground.

They were each quiet for a long time, lost in their own individual thoughts. It wasn’t until Ada let out a sharp breath that the silence finally broke. “We didn’t get enough,” she said bluntly. “We got out,” June reminded her. “That’s enough for now.”

Ada shook her head. “Not for Trey, it’s not. You know what he’ll say. We can’t show up empty-handed.”

June’s stomach twisted. She’s right. Trey would expect them to come back with something. One brooch wasn’t going to cut it.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said, more firmly now. “We always do.”

Ada smirked, but there was no humor in it. “Yeah? And what happens when we don’t? You think Trey’s gonna pat us on the head and say ‘Better luck next time?’ We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t throw us out on the street. Or worse—”

“Stop,” June demanded abruptly, tilting her head toward the front of the wagon, where their driver was sitting, oblivious.

“Then I guess we’d better get started.” Despite the moving wagon, Ada pushed herself to her feet, brushing off her dress.

“What do you mean?” June asked, her brow furrowing.

Ada gestured around and muttered quietly, “You think this wagon isn’t full of stuff we could use or take back? Food, clothes, tools, jewelry—we’ll just take what we need. We used to do this all the time, even before the false cleaning business.”

June hesitated for a moment. “Ada…”

“We don’t have a choice,” Ada said, cutting her off. “You know that as well as I do. If we go back with nothing, we’re as good as dead. Once this train arrives, we’ll be in San Antonio, and we can count our lucky stars and catch a ride back to Galveston with money in hand. We may get enough for him…” she added hopefully.

“It’ll never be enough,” Etta remarked, just loud enough for June to hear.

There was a pang in her heart. As much as she wanted to believe Ada, she knew Etta was right.

At this point, nothing they could steal would be good enough to make up for a botched job.

And she knew all too well how Trey handled failure.

***

The wagon train lurched to a stop in the open plains, sending a cloud of dust swirling overhead. June glanced around nervously. There’s nothing out here. Why are we stopping? She listened carefully for gunshots or other signs of conflict… but as far as she could tell, there weren’t any bandits threatening the train, either.

For some reason, that seemed almost worse. Whatever had made the train stop, it couldn’t be good. Her hand tightened instinctively on Etta’s wrist, almost protectively, her thumb brushing against the rough wool of Etta’s sleeve.

She glanced over her shoulder and her heart sank in dismay as she spotted a bulky figure on horseback riding back from the front. He was a large, husky man, and as he drew closer, she saw that he had a large handlebar mustache.

By the way he was scanning each of the wagons, he was looking for someone.

Someone in particular.

Then his gaze landed on June, her head poking up above the side of the wagon, and her heart went right into her feet.

“You,” he barked, pointing a finger at her as he urged his horse alongside the wagon. “Out.”

June straightened her back and raised her chin as defiantly as she could. Beside her, Ada was sitting down again, frozen, her fists clenched in her lap, tugging at the loose blue fabric of her dress. Etta looked down at the floor of the wagon, guilt flooding through her face. It was clear as day that she was practically melting into her seat, her pale face barely visible beneath the brim of her bonnet.

The marshal dismounted and came to stand beside their wagon. His boots thudded heavily against the dirt, and he folded his arms across his chest.

“Sir, I’m not sure what you mean,” June replied almost haughtily. Her voice was steady, feigning offense, but her pulse was hammering traitorously in her ears. She was anxious—in fact, she felt just as guilty as Etta looked—but there was no way she would ever show it. “We’ve done nothing wrong.”

The marshal snorted and his face scrunched in anger, flushing red. “Don’t play dumb, girl. You think I was born yesterday? Passengers’ bags don’t empty themselves. This ain’t the first time I’ve seen this. I’ve found more than one group of women pulling this stunt across the West. I can spot thieves a mile away.”

June opened her mouth to protest, but Ada beat her to it, her voice sharp and bitter. “If you’re accusing us of stealing, then prove it. Otherwise, leave us be.”

But even she looked anxious. The marshal’s instincts were dead on. The three of them usually stole from the rich. It didn’t matter whether their victims were the rich people whose houses they cleaned, or the wife of some wealthy man on a train on his way to establish his fortune somewhere further out West. Perhaps the marshal had even caught wind of some of their previous crimes in other towns—he might never have pinned them so easily otherwise.

But June wasn’t going to be the one to fess up. And she knew her friends well. Neither of them were going to admit to anything, either.

The marshal’s lip curled into a sneer. “Prove it? I don’t need to prove anything. I’ve got witnesses.”

June’s stomach dropped. Witnesses were bad.

She smoothed a hand down her side to feel for the pocket that held the Colt Navy revolver she hoped she’d never have to use—but life was hard out here in the West. Trey had given it to her as a last resort in dangerous situations. Part of her had wanted to use it on him, time and time again, but she’d never been able to bring herself to do it. And Trey knew he had that effect on her. That was the only reason he’d trusted her with it.

She flicked her gaze to Etta, who was trembling now, her lower lip caught underneath her two front teeth. Etta was barely eighteen now. She had always been the easiest to crack under pressure, but it was because she had the purest heart of the three. Ada was only one year older than Etta, but the world had already hardened her as much as it had June, who was now twenty.

Sighing, June placed a calming hand on Ada’s arm. “It’s fine,” she said softly. Turning back to the marshal, she tried to reason with him. “We have no quarrel with you, sir. If there’s been a misunderstanding, I’m sure we can sort it out.”

He didn’t budge. “Misunderstanding, huh?” he prodded, poking out his chest. Before June could react, he thrust a quick arm down between the girls and pulled out a large brown sack with a sharp yank, holding it up in front of their faces.

“Then you won’t mind explaining”—he growled, scouring through it and pulling out items that clearly weren’t theirs—“man’s watch and wallet got in here!”

He lifted a brown leather wallet high in the air. Etta gasped, as did the passengers on the wagon in front of them, who were now watching with bated breath. June felt Ada stiffen beside her.

We didn’t steal that.