Prologue

1862

Virginia City, Nevada

It was the smoke that pulled Alice out of her sleep. It was thick and smelled just like sitting by the woodstove, except there was too much of it, and she could not breathe. She coughed and sat up in bed. Her lungs felt like they were being squeezed by a giant hand, and trying to breathe made her throat and nostrils burn. The smoke was everywhere. It filled her whole room like an angry storm cloud. Somewhere in the midst of it, she could hear Emily screaming.

Her stinging eyes streamed water, and she could not see past the blur. She rubbed her eyes with her knuckles, but that somehow made it worse. She tried to call out for Emily, but as soon as she opened her mouth, the smoke forced its way down her throat. She coughed again, and it was a harsh, barking sound. More water welled up in her eyes, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the smoke or her tears.

She could only see tongues of orange peeking through the dark gray. It was unbearably hot. Alice wrapped both hands around her throat and fought again to take a deep breath. Emily was screaming and coughing, and that sound was worse than what was coming out of Alice’s throat.

Emily wasn’t in bed. Alice groped around the quilt to try and find her sister, but her hand kept groping empty air. She cleared her throat a few times before she was able to call out.

“Emily!” She slammed her hands against the quilt, clawing at the smoke-filled air. The orange light was getting stronger, but it did not make the room any brighter. If anything, the room got even darker, and she could not see her own hand in front of her face.

“Alice!” Emily coughed from somewhere nearby. “Alice, I’m scared!”

“Hold on!” Alice kept crawling until her knee hit the edge of the bed, and she tipped over the side. She fell on the ground with a thud and groaned, but that was not enough to stop her moving. The wood floor was hot, but it was a little easier to breathe when she was close to the ground. Alice got down on her stomach and began to crawl, calling out for her sister the entire time as she squinted to try and see through the smoke.

“Emily, keep talking to me!” Alice cried out. Emily coughed again somewhere nearby.

“I am trying!” Emily hacked. Sweat started sliding down Alice’s brow, making her hair stick to the sides of her face and the back of her neck. She squeezed her eyes down to narrow slits, as much as she could without shutting them, and strained to see through her eyelashes until she caught sight of Emily’s white ankle tucked somewhere into a corner.

Alice grabbed onto it. Emily shrieked and tried to yank her foot back, but Alice held onto it for dear life.

“It’s just me!” Alice shouted. Emily whimpered, and Alice crawled the rest of the way to her sister. Emily’s face was smeared in black soot. Alice pulled her sister into her arms and clutched her tight, unwilling to let go ahead for anything.

“I’m scared,” Emily whimpered again. Alice bit her bottom lip.

“It will be okay,” Alice tried her best to reassure her sister, even though she was also terrified. Emily was sobbing, and the high-pitched wailing sound pierced through the roar of the flames and the crackle of splintering wood beams.

A loud bang shot across the room. Alice jumped and held onto Emily even tighter. Her sister yelped and buried her face in Alice’s side, soaking through her nightdress with her sweat and tears. A dark figure emerged from the smoke, and hands shot out of the scalding darkness to grab onto them.

Alice screamed. There were too many tears in her eyes to see anything more than the shape in front of her, and she did not realize it was her father until he spoke.

He shouted to be heard over the fire. Although most of his words were lost to the flames, she heard enough to understand what he wanted her to do.

“Girls!” He grabbed her by the foot and dragged her across the hot floor until she was close enough for him to grab Emily, too. “Grab onto me!”

Alice didn’t let go of Emily, terrified that if she did, her sister would somehow slip away from her and be lost. She only had one arm free to wrap around his neck, which she did. She clung to him for dear life. His short hair was soaked through, and when she pushed her face into his shoulder, she could only smell smoke.

He crushed her against his chest and stood up. It was hotter up in the air, and the smoke was even thicker. Too thick to breathe. Alice held her breath when she could and tried to filter small bursts of air through her father’s shirt when she got to the point where her lungs felt like they would burst. Her father ran, and his chest heaved with the exertion.

At one point, he raised his leg and kicked something down. She heard more wood break and fall apart. She heard it clatter to the ground, and more heat scorched the back of her arms. She whimpered and pushed her face even further down into her father’s shoulder. She did not dare look up. She couldn’t see much, anyway.

Finally, cool nighttime air touched the back of her neck. Alice lifted her head and saw the night sky peppered with glittering stars. The moon was obscured by a thick curtain of gray smoke that poured from the burning house like a pillar. The grass was dewy, and her father set her down. Emily did not want to let him go and dangled from around his neck until he managed to untangle her arms. She could not stop sobbing.

Alice reached out and pulled Emily back to her side. She wrapped her arms around her little sister and tried to soothe her, stroking her hair. Her father turned back toward the house and wiped his mouth. He left behind dark streaks of dirt around the corners, and his tears cut a broad path through the grime as they raced down toward his chin.

“Daddy?” Alice asked quietly. He did not turn to look at her. His eyes were fixed on the house. He just watched it burn, like there was nothing he could do to stop it. And maybe there wasn’t. Maybe it was all too far gone. Alice did not want to think about their lives going up in smoke. She did not want to think about the doll her grandmother had sewn for her from rags, or her father’s nice new church boots, or her mother’s pretty new dress…

Her mother.

“Daddy?” Alice piped up again. She was desperate for his attention but could not stand up with Emily clinging to her. “Daddy? Where is Mama?”

He didn’t say anything. He just wiped at his face again and scrubbed his hand back and forth across his brow. His nostrils flared as he sniffed, and the corners of his mouth sank into a deep frown, but he did not respond.

A knot formed in the pit of Alice’s stomach. She did not want to think about the implications of his silence.

“Mama?” she called out, her voice high and thin with panic. “Mama?” She looked around, but she did not see anyone else. It was just her, and her father, and Emily.

And the fire.

The fire tore apart their house, devouring it like a prairie wolf descending on a rabbit. Alice went quiet and choked back the tears that bubbled up in her throat. She pressed her lips to the top of Emily’s head, holding her sister close and rocking her back and forth. She didn’t know who she was trying to soothe more in that moment, her sister or herself.

They had lost everything in one night. Her mama was nowhere to be seen. That was why her father was crying. He never cried. He was a strong, upright man. Something terrible would have happened to make him shed even a tear.

And something terrible had happened.

Watching him cry, Alice could not ask the question her gut had already confirmed to be the truth. The world was quiet, and the fire raged on. Emily cried, and her father sat down on the grass with his arms resting on his knees. Eventually, he put his head in his hands and cried out. It was an awful, heartbroken sound. More of a yowl, like a bobcat screaming in the night.

That was how Alice knew her mother was dead.

Chapter One

1876

Virginia City, Nevada

14 Years After the Fire

Alice could count on one hand the number of times she had willingly entered the Catcaller Saloon. She didn’t like the place, mostly because it always smelled like tobacco smoke and cheap beer. She didn’t like the loud music from the jangly keys of its old, broken piano, and she did not like the noisy patrons who leered at her when she walked by. The food was terrible, the beer was worse, but her father loved it. He passed out there so often that the sheriff said they ought to make him a bed.

It would have been fine by her. It would save her yet another trip down to grab him by the arms and pull him up like a newborn who couldn’t stand on his own. It was a humiliating endeavor the first time, and it wasn’t any less embarrassing as time went on. She had been going in and out of those swinging front doors at least once a week since she was fifteen.

As soon as her boots hit the floorboards, the man sitting by the door raised his head and tipped his hat at her. He knew exactly why she was there. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and indicated the direction her father was in. She could see him slumped over a table, face-down, with his greasy hair stuck up in all directions and one arm dangling off the side. There was a mug of beer turned on its side on the floor, and it had formed a small, pale lake under his chair. A scraggly dog lapped at the foamy edges but scuttled away when she came close.

This place was a wasteland.

Alice approached her father and cupped her hand to clap it firmly on his back. The jolt brought his head up, and he muttered. His cheek was red from where it had been pressed against the table for who knew how long.

“It’s me, Daddy,” she said.

He looked like he was about to say something, but his cheeks puffed out, and he let out a loud belch instead. Alice made a face and rolled her eyes, rubbing his back as she tried to get him to sit up. She wasn’t strong enough to drag him out, but she could at least support his weight. Getting him to stand and shuffle out was the hard part of everything.

“Always a pleasure to see your lovely face, Miss Alice,” came a voice she both recognized and hated. Alice felt her skin crawl, and she tried to shrug it off. She plastered a smile on her face the best she could and looked up.

“Sorry that it has to be under these circumstances again, Mr. Jenner,” she said.

Thomas Jenner owned the Catcaller Saloon, and lately, she had started to pray every time she walked through the doors that they would miss each other. She never liked him, mainly because he called her ‘little Miss Alice’ and had a dark gray mustache that obscured most of his mouth. Yet it wasn’t enough to hide his leer whenever he looked at her, those secret little smirks that he thought she couldn’t see. He had dull eyes like an old bloodhound and came sniffing around a little too close for comfort most days.

Many people attributed his sour personality to the burn marks on his face, but they were too similar to her own, so she tried not to think about it that way.

“Oh, now, that’s quite all right,” he sniffed as he walked closer. “A lovely woman like you brings a bit of sunshine into this dusty old place.”

His boots clattered against the wooden floorboard, and his spurs jangled when he walked. Alice sucked on her teeth and turned her head away, putting her focus on sliding her arm around her father’s torso and slinging his arm across her shoulders so that she could help him up.

“I do what I can,” she answered dryly. “I will send him back later to make good on his tab.”

“Of course, you know what would make it even brighter?” He did not respond about the tab. “If you gave us a smile. Just one.”

She pulled her lips inward at the very mention and shook her head. “Nothing much to smile about this morning, Mr. Jenner,” she said. In truth, she hated it when she smiled. It made the burns on the side of her face crinkle, and she could feel the tight skin crease all the way up to her hairline. “I’ll come in grinning ear to ear the day my daddy wakes up sober. Maybe next time you can cut him off.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Thomas said. “I’d say he’s my best customer.”

Alice had to keep herself from making a very un-ladylike sound. “Your best customer doesn’t pay half the time?” she retorted. She couldn’t help it. She knew she would be better off focusing on getting her father out of the saloon instead of making smart remarks at Thomas Jenner. But there was something about the way he spoke to her that made her want to spit poison.

She tried to pass it off as a joke and kept searching his face to see if that was how it landed.

There was only so much he would tolerate from her, though. She knew that for a fact. When his eyes started to get a little brighter and his smile started to fade, that was when she would worry.

The man had a fiery temper. She had seen it surface more than once and had no desire to be on the wrong end of it. She had enough scars.

Her father’s head lolled, and he belched again. He muttered something under his breath, and she pretended to understand it.

“Yes,” she said, “I’ve got some stew on the stove waiting for you.” She shook her head and looked back at Thomas Jenner, feigning an apology. “He’s coming back around,” she said. “I ought to get him home. Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Jenner. As I mentioned, I will be sure to send him back around when he’s sobered up to take care of his bill.”

Thomas Jenner’s top lip curled up, which was only visible through the flash of his top teeth because his mustache hid most of the movement. “Always a pleasure, little miss.” He tipped his hat and turned to walk away. Every step he took in the opposite direction relieved a little bit of the anxiety squeezing Alice’s chest.

***

By the time they returned home, Alice’s father was mostly conscious. She tried not to be too snippy with him as she helped him down from the cart and put his arm back over her shoulders so she could support his weight. He looked miserable, making her pity him just a little bit. She knew the reasons that he drank, but that did not make things any easier.

He staggered up the stairs, taking it one step at a time. She walked up with him patiently, keeping him on the side of the railing and making sure she stayed at least half a step behind so that he had plenty of room. The stairwell was narrow, and she wanted at least half a chance of catching him if he fell.

They reached the landing, and then she guided him to his room. He fell on top of the neat bed quilt and rolled over onto his side, groaning like he was going to die. Alice went to get a bowl of water to make a cool rag for his forehead. When she returned, his face was puffy and burning bright red—one of the many unfortunate effects of too much drink.

She soaked the rag for a moment and then twisted out the water. She placed it against his forehead, not moving him from his side in case he decided to throw up. She stroked the oily strands of his dark hair, raking them gently away from his face as he muttered.

“Sorry,” he groaned. “I’m so sorry, Alice.”

“It’s okay,” she reassured him gently. “I know.”

“I can’t stop,” he kept moaning. “I try to stop, but I can’t stop. And it’s just so much money. So much money that we owe. Once I get to thinking about it, I start drinking. Once I start in on the drink, it just keeps flowing.”

“You can’t drown it out,” she told him. She wished that he could. She wished that she could. She wished that something as simple as a mug of beer would wash away all the problems piling on their backs because of money. She did not know the extent of debt they were in, but she knew it was enough. It was enough to drive her father through the doors of the saloon, where he drank until he could not see clearly anymore. Enough that it kept her up at night, staring at her ceiling while her stomach twisted with worry.

So much money. Never enough ways to get it. They had nothing of value to sell. They could only do so much with the ranch.

Once it looked like her father would not vomit out everything he had consumed, Alice leaned over to kiss his temple and stood up.

“I am going downstairs,” she said. “If you need anything, call for me.”

He muttered something she did not quite understand, and she left the room, drawing the door halfway closed behind her.

***

A polite giggle interrupted Alice’s dismal thoughts as she reached the bottom of the stairs. She leaned over to peer into the parlor where the sound was coming from and caught a glimpse of her sister. Emily was seated in a chair, wearing a pink gingham dress that made her lightly sun-kissed skin look a little paler than usual, while the pleasant flush in her cheeks brought the full vibrance of her youth forward for display. She had a pretty smile and large doe eyes to accompany it.

Across from her sat Jon, the ranch hand who had expressed interest in courting her multiple times. In Alice’s opinion, Emily deserved better than her father’s ranch hand for a husband even though she liked Jon well enough and thought he was a good man. However, their father had already given Jon his blessing, so there was not much to be done. Alice was aware that their prospects for marriage were slim. At least, hers certainly were, but she had held out hope for her younger sister to have a better life.

Maybe some of it was jealousy. She was willing to admit that. Emily had someone in her life who loved her and wanted to be with her. Emily was young and pretty and had come out of the fire unscathed.

The only scars that Emily bore were on her heart. It was something she could keep hidden, something she could repress when the occasion did not call for it. When she was young, Emily used to cry in her sleep. She did not do that anymore, at least not that Alice was aware. It had been years since Emily had come crawling into her bed to hide from another nightmare. Alice still had them, and wore the scars from that night on a place where they could not be hidden.

Men like Thomas Jenner were probably the best she could ever reasonably hope for. And she would rather die unmarried than accept a proposal from someone like him.

She thought about saying something to Emily, if for no other reason than to remind her sister that she should be chaperoned. However, her exhaustion had caught up with her, and she decided it was not worth it. Jon was a trustworthy young man. He would not risk Emily’s honor; she was a virtuous young woman. Alice turned away from the parlor, allowing them their moment together by the fireplace as she collapsed in her bed.

No sooner did her head hit the pillow than she shut her eyes and felt the world tilt as her exhaustion caught up with her. Alice shoved her arms underneath it and buried her face in puffy depths. She did not remember falling asleep, but in the middle of the night, she woke up smelling smoke.

For half a moment, her heart raced. She could not breathe, and she could not see anything around her. She held up her hand but could not see her fingers waving in front of her face. All she could smell was smoke. She coughed and tried to take a deep breath right after, resting her hand against her chest as she tried to force herself to calm down.

There was no light. Not even orange flames. The world was not on fire. She was safe. She had to keep reassuring herself of that much—she was safe.

Alice rolled over and lit the oil lamp on her bedside table. Her hands shook as she replaced the glass shade, and then she curled back up close to her headboard. She wrapped her arms around her knees and drew them close to her chest. She took another deep breath, forcing the air to circulate properly before she rested her forehead against her knees. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She blinked them back with only one or two rogues escaping, tracing their way down her cheeks and dripping off the end of her chin.

She did not want this life for herself. She wanted something better than nightmares, something better than a scarred face and a small collection of dashed dreams. She scrubbed at her face with her hands and sniffed again, trying to clear up her tears before laying back down and putting her head on her damp pillow.

She did not turn out her light a second time. She let it burn well into the night as she drifted back to sleep.

The second time, it was dreamless, but lingering traces of fear from the first kept every muscle in her shoulders taut. She tossed and turned, and the smell of smoke seemed to linger in the air.