Prologue

Riverton, Missouri 1863

 “What is there to not understand? In one month, you’re getting married.”

Irene Spencer blinked, staring at her stepfather, George, as the man finally stopped pacing on the worn-out rug to look at her from across the room. The large man had wisps of gray hair about his head as though the wind had just blown through it. He frowned and waited for her to respond.

But how was she supposed to? What was she to say?

At a loss for words, Irene slowly shook her head and replayed what he had just told her. Her stepfather had arranged a marriage for her to a man she had never met. It was his boss’s son, whoever he might be.

She supposed he would be older. Her eighteenth birthday was in three weeks.

Her stepfather had never said anything kind about his employer at the bank, Lars Maxwell, before. To marry her off to his son made no sense. There had been no mention of her even being courted by anyone over the last couple of years, since she was too busy working to consider social activities.

To keep her family afloat, Irene had started taking on odd jobs shortly after her mother’s passing six months earlier. George claimed that their finances were fine, but she never seemed to have enough for groceries or other supplies, so Irene worked. She handled the laundry for the five families on Iris Avenue and took on extra work at the busy haberdashery to mend clothes for their patrons. But no matter how much she worked, it never seemed to be enough.

“But I don’t need to get married,” she said, her voice thick. “What about you? What about Lucas?”

It was as if her stepfather wasn’t taking her twelve-year-old brother into consideration. The small boy was shy with everyone but her. There was no way she could just leave him behind.

The older man shrugged before answering, “We’ll be fine. It’s for the good of our family, Irene. It’s what your mother would want. As your father, I need to ensure that your financial future is secured, don’t I?”

His question was pointed, but even he didn’t sound confident about it. Irene stared at him with her mouth partially open as she tried to understand what was going through his head.

George had been part of her family since she was eight years old. When her father died two years before that, Irene and her mother hadn’t known what they would do or how they would survive. But George had come in and saved them from living on the streets. The man had been kind enough, if a little detached. He preferred quiet evenings alone with a bottle in each hand, but he had never been cruel to them. Even when it was apparent that her mother never loved him, he had been good.

Her heart pattered as Irene thought of her mother. A sudden illness had taken her from their family so recently. But part of Irene’s mother had died long ago with her first husband, the husband of her two children. It had taken a while for Irene to realize how unhappy her mother was, but there was nothing they could do.

Shaking her head, she took a step back. She couldn’t have a marriage like the one her mother had had with George. Though grateful for the support and the company, she couldn’t spend the rest of her days in a relationship that hardly mattered to her.

“No,” Irene forced herself to say even as her voice shook. “No, I won’t do that. Why would you ask this of me? I can’t marry a man I don’t love. I haven’t even met him.”

A laugh escaped her stepfather’s lips. Her eyes widened at the tall, intimidating man. Once more, she wished she’d been blessed with her father’s tall figure instead of her mother’s petite frame. “Ask? Oh no, I’m not asking you, Irene. I’m telling you. You will marry him.”

She took a step back as she stared. “You can’t make me.”

“I’m your guardian! Whether you like it or not,” he snapped at her suddenly, “this is happening.”

Before she could say another word, her stepfather stalked out of the kitchen to head to work. But Irene wasn’t sure that she had anything to say. Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. She stood in the middle of their small kitchen, unmoving, as she struggled to grasp this newest set of circumstances.

Six months. Her mother had only been gone six months, two weeks, and a day.

Yet, somehow, it felt like ages. Wavering, Irene thought about the last couple of months and how so much had changed. She had taken over handling everything in the household. Several mistakes had been made along the way, but she was learning quickly to handle the heavy burden. As for her stepfather, George had grown even quieter, had taken to drinking three times what he usually drank, and now he was commanding her to marry someone against her will.

Could he make her marry someone? She wasn’t sure.

Sitting down to sew, she let her thoughts turn to her little brother, Lucas. She had no idea what that would mean for him. Any type of man would hardly want a child in his household after marriage, even if the child was his young brother-in-law.

She shook her head. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t happen. There had to be something she could do about it.

At first, she thought not to worry her little brother. Lucas was twelve years old and had enough on his plate as a growing boy. Yet he was smart and noticed that something was on her mind when he came out from his room where he had been reading a book. He had a way of reading her face and so he asked her what was on her mind.

Eventually, Irene had no choice but to confess. She had never been a good liar.

The boy was a somber child who listened carefully. His fluffy blonde hair curled over his forehead before he pushed it away. He gave the smallest frown as he tilted his head to look up at her. “I’m sorry, Irene.”

His hazel eyes didn’t quite focus on her like they should have, though she was used to it by now. Lucas dearly needed glasses, but George said they didn’t have money for a doctor, let alone a pair of spectacles. So, the boy suffered.

Irene set her cloth and needle down, needing a break. Her hands were stiff from the last couple of hours working on patching the clothes. And she wasn’t even halfway done with her load.

“You’re not surprised?” she asked after a second, frowning. She paused to pull her shoulder-length hair back with a ribbon to keep it out of her face.

Lucas pursed his lips. “No. I never thought he cared for us much. He took you out of school early, won’t buy me glasses, and now marriage. He’s the only father I know, but I always knew he didn’t like me.”

“Oh, Lucas,” Irene sighed as she sat at the table. “That’s not true.”

But he ignored her, both of them aware that she didn’t have any particular proof to make her point. “I heard the men by the river talking about California. Said they saw something about going west in the newspaper, so I found a page. If people are going west, don’t you suppose that we could?”

He pulled a couple of wrinkled pages out of his pocket and squinted at them. It made her heart ache for him. He loved to read, but his eyesight seemed to be growing worse.

“Here, let me,” Irene offered. She didn’t expect much on the page he referenced. But then she read it aloud to him and something in her heart sparked. “‘Wagon party in Springfield seeking additional members headed West on the California trail.’ Oh, it’s not for another couple of weeks. Three weeks. That’s my birthday,” she added absently.

She knew vaguely of Springfield from school, she supposed. It was in Chester County of Missouri, just west of them by a two-day stagecoach ride. Springfield was known because it was the last main stop for travelers leaving for the great wilderness beyond their current civilization.

Looking over the ad some more, she tried to imagine joining a wagon party. This one would be making it all the way to the west coast. The California trail was said to be challenging and exciting.

“I know.” Lucas nodded. “And before that dumb wedding.”

Irene frowned at him. “Don’t say dumb.”

“Sorry. But it’s a good idea, isn’t it? We could leave Missouri. Leave George,” Lucas added. “What about all those stories about gold? We could find enough gold to build a house and—and get me glasses. It would be a new life, Irene. A happy life.”

He was terribly convincing as he talked about all the adventures they could have, how they could meet new people and not have to worry about loveless marriages. She considered it hesitantly. Irene stood and started around the kitchen, cleaning up the table so that it could be ready for suppertime. Their stepfather would be home soon from his job as a banker, and she wanted to make sure everything was right.

Then she paused as she realized how crazy this seemed. “Lucas, I don’t know. Maybe we could save up and get you glasses here.”

“How could you?” he asked her with a miserable sigh. “You’ll be married.”

A knot formed in her throat. For one short, precious moment, she had forgotten about that. Irene tapped her fingers against the table as she stared at the newspaper. Her mind spun, considering their options.

Staring down at the needle and cloth in hand, Irene felt her heart quiver. She didn’t particularly like any of the options provided to her. But she had to choose one of them.

If she was married off, then that was it for her. She would no longer have her own life. It wouldn’t be George telling her what to do, but some other man that could control her if he so desired.

Irene knew she couldn’t take that risk. Not when Lucas needed her.

“Please,” Lucas said as he nudged her. “It’ll be exciting! I’ll do the hard work, I promise. I’ve read every story I can find about the West and I think you would enjoy it! But I can’t go alone. Don’t you want this? Or do you want to stay here where I know neither of us will be happy?”

Her brother had a point whether she liked it or not.

She gulped. The California trail was becoming more real in her mind with every second. Though she couldn’t imagine herself on a wagon or leaving Riverton, it seemed they didn’t have any choice. Her stomach tightened anxiously as she realized what had to happen.

“All right,” Irene announced to her little brother. “Then we’ll get you glasses when we get to California.”

Chapter One

On her birthday three weeks later, Irene was still consumed with anxiety.

The plans for leaving her home to go west with Lucas were slowly coming together. But no matter how much progress they made, she still didn’t feel ready. They were to be leaving in the morning, and she was double-checking everything in her head.

She didn’t have any time to celebrate as she spent the morning walking across town to deliver fresh laundry and then picked up clothes to mend, mended them, and returned them. There was hardly time for her to eat, pack, or prepare a meal. But she managed to do all of that before sunset when George returned home.

Theirs was a small house just two streets back from the river. Though it had three bedrooms, they were all rather squished and usually everything could be heard, from a snore to a whisper. The kitchen was squished, as well, with the large table that George had brought from his bachelor house and insisted they keep.

Glancing around, Irene tried to accept that she was leaving this place for good. Her mother’s curtains still hung in the windows, faded a pale pink that George was always talking about replacing.

She would miss them, just as she would miss the patched rugs and how the cupboards in the kitchen always squeaked.

“Good to see the two of you minding yourselves,” George muttered as he took his seat at the table, hungrily eyeing the potato soup she had prepared. It was a little watery, since they didn’t have too many potatoes to use. He hadn’t given her enough money last week to buy everything on their shopping list and she didn’t have any money to spare. “Don’t we have some bread?”

Irene wiped the sweat off her brow, her dark blond hair sticking to her face as she sat down beside her brother. “You finished it this morning. I didn’t get a chance to bake any today, I’m afraid.” When her stepfather glanced at her, she managed a weak smile.

He grunted. “Hm. Well, tomorrow then. Make two loaves while you’re at it, won’t you?” Scratching his cheek, he sniffed. “And teach Lucas. I suppose he’ll need to make it once you’re married.”

A lump formed in her throat. She had never been good at lying, so she kept her head down. She nodded and fumbled with her spoon. It clattered noisily out of her hand to fall on the edge of her bowl, tottering before it fell right into her soup with a splash. Irene inhaled as she glanced around the table. Lucas looked at her with a concerned frown, but their stepfather didn’t seem to notice.

“Right.” Irene cleared her throat.

George took three sips of the soup, made an unpleasant face, and then looked up at her. “Two days, Irene. You had best not forget. Saturday morning, I expect you ready for the courthouse with all your things packed to go.”

That made her think about the stuffed carpetbag that was currently sitting underneath her bed. With a jerky nod, she mumbled, “Right. Saturday.”

The rest of their meal was silent. It seemed her stepfather had forgotten her birthday and so there were no celebrations for her that evening. But Irene didn’t mind. She preferred it this way, at least this year. After cleaning up supper, she tidied the rest of the house. This was the home she had grown up in, and now she was planning to leave it.

Part of her still didn’t believe this was happening. Her hands shook as she swept, eyeing her little brother as he peeked out the window. Night had settled in, quieting the world and everyone but Irene.

George sat outside on the porch with a bottle of whiskey in the meantime. He was silent and he didn’t bother anyone.

“Do we leave now?”

“Hush,” Irene ordered her brother harshly before catching herself. Her heart was pounding loudly within her chest. Praying her stepfather had not heard that, she shook her head and beckoned Lucas over to her side. “Come here. We’re not leaving until morning, remember? Now go… go double-check that you have everything you want to bring—that you can carry,” she added before he could go too far.

The young boy wavered for a moment as though he was considering everything in his bag. He could only take what he could carry, after all. That went for herself, as well. For any clothes and prized belongings, it would not be very much. She had tried packing her bag daily in an attempt to fit all that she wanted, but there were several things she would be leaving behind.

Most likely, Lucas would have to do the same. She had reviewed the pile he wanted to take with him to make sure it was reasonable. But that was three days ago, and she had a feeling that he might have exchanged a few belongings.

Irene prayed he kept the few necessities she had mentioned. Hopefully, someday soon, they could make more purchases and build a new life with new things in California.

A thrill ran up her spine. She shivered, glancing around the home.

It was happening. She was actually leaving. Her eyes wandered the wooden floors to the nondescript ceilings and back again. Thank goodness she had removed the cobwebs so it looked decent. Yet she wished for the hundredth time that they’d kept the pictures hung on the walls. George had wanted to take down the memories of her mother after her passing. They were put away in the small attic and now the house felt like a skeleton.

This was where she had been born and where she had been raised. It was the only home she had ever known. To know that she wouldn’t have that narrow, thin bed of hers anymore struck her with an odd, empty feeling in the pit of her stomach.

This was the house that her father had purchased shortly before marrying her mother. They had turned it into a warm, lovely home that had lasted for a good couple of years.

She swallowed the lump forming in her throat, knowing that those days were over. It was time for her to move on. If she didn’t leave now, her stepfather would simply make her leave for the wedding.

“That won’t happen,” Irene muttered under her breath.

With a shake of her head, she turned her attention back to the house. The place was always kept tidy. But she wanted to make sure that she left it sparkling clean, without a spot to be found. She returned to the kitchen to polish the pots before finally retiring for the evening to her room.

“Irene?”

She put a finger up to her lips as Lucas peeked his head into her room a few minutes later. It was dark except for the candlelight by her bedside. She could hardly see her brother in the shadows. But she motioned for him to come over anyway, and he hastily made his way to the edge of her bed.

“What is it, Lucas?” Irene asked in a low whisper.

The young boy hesitated. And then he said, “Am I supposed to sleep? I don’t think I can.”

Her heart went out to him, for she felt the exact same way. Irene’s mind kept wandering. It was hard to combat the fear and uncertainty of their future with the hope and excitement of what might come next for the two of them. Sleep was the furthest thing from her mind.

“I know,” she told him in a hushed tone, “but you must try. We have a long journey ahead of us and we need to be awake and ready before first light. Understand?”

Lucas hesitated before grudgingly nodding. He opened his mouth but then stopped short when they heard a door swing open. Irene gulped as they listened to the heavy footsteps of their stepfather enter the house. He closed the door with a loud thump, set the bottle on the table, and staggered off to his room for sleep. His room was the first one in the hallway; that meant he wouldn’t have noticed either of them was still up.

Neither of them moved, hardly breathing, until they could hear George snoring.

That was one thing Irene wouldn’t miss. It had taken her four years to get used to that loud noise that practically shook the entire house. She let out a sigh before giving her brother a stern look.

“Try to get some sleep. Count to a hundred or a thousand,” she suggested. “I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

He seemed to accept this was the only choice. With a sigh, he stumbled back into the shadows to make his way to his room. Irene listened at the thin walls as she waited to hear his bed creak under his weight.

When it did, she was able to relax again. Or, at least, almost relax. Her mind raced as she thought about all that might happen next.

Irene wondered if they would really make it out of town. She wasn’t sure they would get far without their stepfather stopping them. Then she began to worry that she might not wake up in time. A thousand thoughts stampeded through her mind. It occupied her so greatly that she didn’t even remember when she fell asleep.

But then, she jerked awake.

Looking around, Irene prayed she hadn’t ruined their plans by sleeping so late. The sun didn’t seem to be up yet, but if they left a little too late, the light would catch them before they were ready. She gulped as she ran to her window to look into the street. It took her a minute to find the moon.

It was nearly over the ridge.

She sighed in relief. Her mind was always good at waking her up just when she needed to rise.

The fear faded as she pushed herself into action. They would make their journey so long as they kept to the plan of escaping in the early morning for the first stagecoach to Springfield, where they could meet up with the wagon party in order to make it to California. Taking a deep breath, she returned to her bed, where she pulled out the bag from underneath and put it on top. Irene dressed, put her boots on, and glanced around the room one last time.

Her thoughts turned to her mother. Heart aching, Irene wondered if this was the best thing to do. This was the only life she had ever known.

But, reminding herself it was bound to change one way or another, she grabbed her bag and hurried out. Irene avoided the three creaky planks on her way to her brother’s room.

He was fast asleep when she hovered her candle by his bedside. With a soft shake, he awoke. Irene pressed her finger to her lips to keep him quiet. Lucas nodded, climbing out of bed to dress and grab his bag to leave.

It was time.

She offered a tight smile that she prayed looked reassuring. Then, Irene led the way out of the house. As though he needed the strength, or knew how badly she needed it, Lucas slipped his hand through hers.

The two of them hastened down the street toward the center of town. Irene had never realized how quiet the early morning could be. It made her walk faster, her little brother struggling to keep up. They staggered their way right past the town stables to the stagecoach station beside it.

The station was a small wooden building half the size of her small home. There appeared to only be one window beside its double doors, with one man who looked to be reviewing the tickets of a tall couple right beside him. Her heart skipped a beat as she hurried over to him.

“I would like to purchase two tickets to Springfield,” Irene requested when he looked her way.

He eyed her with an odd look. Then, he glanced at Lucas and deepened his frown. “Ten dollars.”

“Ten?”

“Each.”

Irene turned to her brother. That was much more than what she had anticipated; she scolded herself for not having checked on the prices earlier. This would make a big dent in her limited savings.

She had so little money and there was no guarantee of earning any more at this time. But there was no choice. If she didn’t do this, then she was sentencing herself to a loveless marriage with a man she had never met. She couldn’t protect Lucas if that happened, and there was no promise of happiness.

Pulling out the crumpled bills and coins, Irene shoved the twenty dollars into the man’s hands. Her heart quivered as she let go and received two ticket stubs.

“Stagecoach pulling out in ten minutes!” a voice hollered from behind them.

She shuddered in surprise. But she had the tickets, Irene told herself, and she had her brother. That was all she needed right now. Surely, the rest would come together soon.

Lucas’s hand slipped into hers. She looked over at him to see what was the matter, only to find him smiling at her. There was a glimmer of hope in his eyes as he nodded. “It’s going to be all right. It’s a grand adventure.”

***

Lars Maxwell banged angrily on the rickety door that seemed to splinter beneath his fist. It only annoyed him further, worsening his mood.

This was the crowded and unpleasant part of town, an area he had promised himself never to visit. There was no need to be among the poor, and he rather preferred being anywhere else.

It wasn’t as if he was here by choice, however. He had waited in the town hall with his son all morning only to finally accept that there would not be a wedding that day.

Such a fact was not acceptable. Not after all that he had set up.

“Can we just go home?” his son, Paul, had asked him with a sigh while he tugged at his high collar while sitting inside the town hall’s front room. “Maybe they forgot. Or maybe something happened.”

That wasn’t allowed. Lars had yanked his son to his feet before making his way back outside. Something had to be done about Paul’s impertinence. His son was nearing thirty. While he had been a help in all the plans he had set up through the bank to keep their pockets full, he wasn’t good for much else. The young man was not good at thinking long-term. He’d been a womanizer long enough and needed to settle down with a wife.

Lars wanted grandchildren, for goodness’ sake. After the life he had lived thus far, he deserved them. And he was going to get them one way or another.

This meant he needed that young woman to marry his son. Most of the young ladies around town already knew Paul’s reputation and weren’t interested in him. When George had come asking for some money, Lars knew it was the perfect opportunity.

This was the deal they had made, and if it didn’t come through, then that man had a lot of trouble headed his way.

“It’s not like I even wanted to get married,” his son had muttered before crossing his arms on their way across town.

“Quiet,” Lars had finally snapped at him. It was impossible to hold any patience with the young man. “You’re beyond ready to get married, and it’s time you settled down and stopped embarrassing the family. Now, keep quiet.”

So, they made their way to the other side of town. Leaving Paul with the horses, Lars went up and banged on the door. There had best be a very good reason why his son was not married by now.

Now, he paused and waited to hear noise. His eyes narrowed when he swore he could hear shuffling. It may have been directed toward the door. But, when nothing happened, he banged again.

“I can hear you in there!” he shouted. “Now, open up before I break your door down.”

A moment later, the door swung open to reveal George Spencer. He offered a tight smile with droplets of sweat dripping down his face. It wasn’t that warm of a day, so Lars decided that the man knew exactly what he was doing and how wrong he was.

“What a surprise,” George started with a stammer.

Lars didn’t care. He pushed the door wide open and stepped inside. Looking around, he knew he needed to find that young lady. He would drag her out to his son if he had to. Any calm he’d had that morning had dissipated and would not return any time soon.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

The house contained very little, appearing quite threadbare. There were only three chairs around a tiny table in the kitchen and two benches in the next room. Nothing was hung on the walls, only a few curtains, and a single rug sat by the door.

A rather hideous place, Lars decided, not one befitting a banker. It was a good thing he had fired George some weeks ago. The man was incompetent at work and at home.

“I don’t, um, know what you’re talking about,” George choked out. “I don’t… I can’t…”

“Is this her room?” Lars stomped over and pointed to the first door, turning to the man. His brow furrowed, signaling it wasn’t. “How about this one?” That one made George’s mouth drop open.

“No,” he started to lie.

But Lars wasn’t interested in a lie. “You made a deal, George! I need that rascal son of mine married off, and she was going to help manage the house. Now I’m going in!” He grabbed the doorknob and turned it.

There was a bed, a nightstand, a chest, and a window. He looked around with pursed lips before stepping into the room. The squeaking footsteps on the old plank floors meant that George was coming over to gawk at him in the doorway.

“Well?” Lars asked. “Where is she?”

“I… I’m not sure,” the man started to say. But Lars wasn’t a fool; he made a living off fooling everyone else and he couldn’t risk letting anyone find out. He saw the way the other man was glancing furtively across the room. Looking to the nightstand, Lars noticed a crumpled piece of paper by an old candle.

He crossed around the bed to grab it. The paper was half a page from a newspaper that looked rather old. Lars stewed over one side with half an article before turning it over to find, right in the middle, the invitation for folks to join a wagon party on its way to California.

“What is this?” Lars demanded.

“I don’t know,” George mustered up, looking away. “It’s just a newspaper. It’s nothing!”

His eyes narrowed on the man. “Is that where your daughter has gone?”

Though the man refused to answer, it was clear enough to connect the dots. Lars didn’t need the man’s confirmation. He crumpled the paper and stalked out, shoving a shoulder into George, who stumbled back.

“You are finished,” Lars announced on his way out of the house. “And I will have a wife for my son. One way or another!”