I’m the lone mountain man who guards land and heart.
Then she appears—a widow with secrets, seeking refuge…
Josie’s life has been a series of heartbreaks and betrayals. Orphaned and forced into a loveless marriage, she endured her husband’s escalating abuse until his mysterious murder left her and her daughter destitute. Desperate to survive, she hides in an old hunting cabin, resorting to stealing from a nearby ranch. Until she gets caught… by a tall, brooding man whose intense gaze leaves her breathless.
Hunter, a silent mountain man, runs his ranch with a firm hand, his trust shattered by a loveless childhood. Discovering Josie stealing his supplies, he plans to hand her over to the sheriff. But her desperate eyes and fierce protection of her daughter stir something within him. Then, a storm forces him to shelter them at his ranch.
As they struggle to coexist, Josie’s daughter begins to soften his heart, forming an unexpected bond. But a vengeful figure resurfaces, determined to claim Josie for himself and destroy any chance of happiness she might find with Hunter…
In South Dakota’s wide and rugged land,
Where fate tests both heart and hand,
Love’s journey weaves a bond so true,
Josie and Hunter, hearts anew.
Deadwood, South Dakota
1881
Josie staggered out of the cattle barn, breathing hard. She braced her hand on the side of the barn and leaned her head forward to catch her wind. Managing the cattle on her own had not gotten any easier since…
She stopped herself from thinking about that and straightened. She smoothed her hands over her black dress, plucking off bits of straw. It was time to go check on her daughter, Ella.
She crossed from the cattle barn to the house, the sun beating down on the back of her neck, drying her sweat. She passed the chicken coop and the last two hens watched her go without making a single cluck. Before all of this happened, the hens would set up a fuss if they even heard her, hoping they were going to be fed. That she had been culling their numbers, roasting their family members in her oven, had them shy and suspicious. She felt bad for them even though they were just animals. She knew what it was like to have to be quiet to avoid trouble— and for it all to be in vain.
The pig would be next. Some of the cattle too, or she might just sell those and use the money to buy some nice, fresh vegetables.
She pushed open the door to the house. “Ella!” she called.
She heard someone move in a nearby room, heard a scuffling like feet shifting. The sound was too large to belong to a two-year-old waif.
Her heart hammered and the breath she had just managed to get back left her lungs again. There was an intruder, and she wouldn’t be able to get to Owen’s gun from the hallway closet in time. Her eyes darted around the foyer, searching for anything that could be used as a weapon, landing upon a candlestick on a small table. She snatched it up, holding it in front of her.
“Who’s there?” she called out, voice shaking.
The heavy footsteps advanced, a shadow leaning out of the side room. The tall, slender form of a man emerged and Josie gasped when she recognized him. “Clive?”
Her dead husband’s cousin looked at her with amber cat’s eyes, then at the candlestick. “You fixin’ to whack me one?”
Josie lowered the candlestick slowly. There was still something not right about this. She didn’t know Clive very well and there was no reason for him to be in her house.
“Ella?” she called again.
“Mama?” Her little girl’s voice came from deeper in the house, likely the bedroom where Josie had left her.
“You stay there,” Josie said, speaking both to Ella and Clive. “Right where you are.”
Clive crossed his arms over his narrow chest. “I didn’t come to start no trouble, Josie. I came ‘cause I know trouble’s comin’ and I want to help you.”
Her stomach clenched and she tightened her grip on the candlestick. Outside, the chickens were making their lonely clucks, calling for sisters they no longer had.
“What are you talkin’ about, Clive? What kind of trouble?”
“Let’s go in the parlor so your little girl don’t hear us.” Clive motioned to the room he had come out of.
Josie shook her head hard. “No, right here’s fine. What kind of trouble?”
She might not have known him well, but she knew what men were like. Her father, Owen, the ranch hands that used to work on the property: once they sat down and settled in, they meant to stay for a while. She wasn’t equipped to deal with a guest right then. There was so much she still had to do, chores that needed done, and then she had to figure out where dinner would be coming from, since the pantry was bare again.
Clive lowered his head, his eyes still on her. “I was at Owen’s funeral. Didn’t have the time to say nothin’ to you, but I’m real sorry for your loss. They ever find out who did it?”
Owen had been murdered right on the property a few months back and nothing had been the same since then. Worse, the sheriff never caught the culprit. Word around town was he had stopped investigating because there just weren’t any clues pointing to the criminal.
“No,” Josie said, short and clipped.
“It’s a real shame.” Clive rubbed his hand over his lank brown hair and heaved a heavy sigh. “He was always my favorite cousin. That’s why I’m here right now, and ‘cause I like you, Josie. You deserve fair warnin’.”
“What are you talking about? What kind of warnin’?” She frowned and shifted her fingers on the slim metal of the candlestick. She really couldn’t deal with anything else at the moment.
Clive reached into his back pocket and pulled out a letter, holding it out to her. “The Deadwood Bank owner came into my saloon the other night and went off on a bender, loosened his tongue. He told me that Owen owed money. A lot, Josie. He was gettin’ roostered and makin’ bets, takin’ out loans and not paying them back. The bank is goin’ to try to take the ranch away from you. I convinced him to hold off while I talked to you about it. All the details is in this letter here. You should read it.”
Josie recoiled from the letter like Clive had just offered her a snake. Bile rose up her throat and she put her hand over her mouth to hold back a moan. Black spots appeared in her vision, floating at the edges.
When she was sure she could speak, she pulled her hand from her mouth. “That’s not right. I knew our finances were bad, but…. Are you sure?”
“It’s all in the letter.” Clive repeated. He stepped closer to her and put his cool, faintly clammy hand on her wrist. His fingers curled around her like the jaws of a handcuff cinching shut and she lost her hold on the candlestick, dropping it to the ground with a heavy clatter.
Her marriage to Owen had given her plenty of experience with such firm, possessive touches. She yanked her arm to pull away, but he was strong and kept holding on.
“You don’t got the money to pay any loans back, do you?” Clive asked, voice low, and didn’t wait for an answer. “You’re goin’ to lose the ranch. What’re you goin’ to do then? You got your little girl to think of.”
“I’ll think of something. I won’t lose the ranch.” The ranch used to be her father’s before it was hers and Owen’s. She refused to just give up. “I’ll go to the bank. I’ll talk with them and maybe we can figure something out.”
Clive tilted his head to the side slightly. “And if that don’t work out? I came here ‘cause I had an idea. You could come stay with me for a time. I’ll give you work at the saloon so you can get back on your feet. What do you say?”
Josie put her hand to her face and closed her eyes. This was all far too much to take in right then. “I– I need to think. Clive, thank you for coming. I’ll read the letter and I’ll talk to the bank. I’ll see what I can do, but I’m not ready to give up. I won’t leave the ranch.”
He pursed his lips and released her arm. “Alright. Good luck to you, Josie, but I don’t hold out much hope. Just know that the offer’s there. A place to stay, steady work. You’ll come around, I think.”
Josie stepped to the side and held the front door open for him. “I do appreciate it. You’ve given me a head start and I thank you for that.”
She stopped short of saying she owed him. If what he said was really true, getting into more debt, even of a personal kind, didn’t seem wise.
Clive placed the letter on the table where the candlestick had been. She could smell him as he strode past, a mixture of old, dried whiskey and vegetable stew. He looked back over his shoulder at her, feline eyes narrowed to slits. She thought he was about to say something, but he continued on without a word.
She shut the door and leaned back against it, rubbing her wrist where Clive had gripped her. If he was anything like Owen had been, she was very glad not to have gone with him. But what was she going to do? If the bank wouldn’t work with her because Owen had put them in such debt before his death, she would have to find a job off the ranch, maybe two jobs. She could sell some of the cattle, pawn off some of their tools and belongings.
Would it be enough?
What could she do if it wasn’t?
“Mama?” Ella’s voice broke through her dark thoughts like a ray of sunshine. With a series of tiny, pattering steps, Ella appeared in the hall, looking all around with her bright red curls bobbing. She spotted Josie by the door and raced over to her with arms outstretched to grab onto her.
Josie bent and lifted her precious daughter into her arms. Ella nestled in, holding onto her around the neck. Pure warmth filled Josie’s chest and she pressed Ella to her chest. She breathed in the scent of Ella’s hair and some of the panic that had been forming in her stomach was quelled.
Ella was the only gift Owen had ever given Josie, the most perfect present delivered almost a year after their nuptials.
Ella was a miniature version of her. Truly miniature, as she was small even for a two-year-old, clearly having inherited Josie’s petite frame. Her skin was the color of milk, a reflection of Josie’s Irish blood; Josie’s own skin had gone to tan from working long hours out in the sun. Their bright red hair was the same but for Josie’s being longer.
Ella leaned back in Josie’s arms and beamed up at her, big green eyes sparkling like sunlight on forest leaves. Whenever Josie looked at herself in a mirror these days, that vividness seemed to have gone from her own eyes. And she had circles underneath hers that Ella did not.
“Mama sad?” Ella’s smile fell and she pressed her small, soft hand to Josie’s cheek.
Josie took that hand and kissed it all over, making Ella giggle and squirm in her arms. Her whole body filled up with that warmth from before, like fire flowing in her veins. She pressed Ella against her chest again and Ella lay her head on her shoulder, innocent, trusting. Josie stroked her back and swayed on her feet, from side to side.
Sad? She didn’t have the time to be sad. She didn’t have the time to be doubtful or scared.
She had to keep the ranch, for Ella’s sake, just like Clive had said. Everything else had to be put aside to make sure her daughter had a good, safe life.
“Mama? Apple?” Ella was tugging on her.
“We don’t have any apples right now.” Josie kissed the top of her head. “You want some bread with butter?”
“Apple,” Ella insisted.
“Bread and butter,” Josie repeated, and took Ella with her into the kitchen to fix her a snack. She passed the letter on the table as she went and tightened her jaw.
Ella always napped after she ate and that meant uninterrupted time to read the darned thing. Then, tomorrow, Josie would head to the bank with her daughter in tow to ask for another loan, a loan extension, forgiveness on the debt, anything. She would take anything. She would work as hard as she had to, any job that she had to, and as long as she got to keep the ranch and had food for Ella, it would all be worth it.
One year later…
“Story, Mama, story.”
Josie draped another blanket over Ella, the last blanket they had in the tiny cabin. Ella’s cheeks and lips were pink, so she was warm enough, at least. Josie couldn’t say the same about herself.
“What kind of story do you want, sweetie?” Josie tucked the blankets in around her daughter as best as she could with fingers stiff from the cold.
“Bear,” Ella said. She snuggled into the blankets, blinking slowly. “Bear story.”
Josie stroked her daughter’s fiery hair, smiling a little, just for her, as if she wasn’t being haunted by thoughts of what she was going to have to do later that night.
“Once,” Josie said softly, “there was a little bear cub, a little girl bear, named Ella. Ella the bear cub lived with her mama bear in a cave. One day, when mama bear was away hunting, Ella discovered a secret tunnel at the back of the cave and crawled inside to see where it went.”
Ella’s attention was rapt in spite of her tiredness. She clung to wakefulness to know where the tunnel would take the little bear who shared her name. Josie continued to stroke the soft, red flames of her daughter’s hair as she told the tale of how the bear cub followed the tunnel all the way to another cave where there was a big garden. Ella the bear brought back berries and other fruits to her own cave so that when mama bear showed up without any meat from her hunt, they still had something to eat.
“With their bellies full, the two bears curled up in their soft nest and fell fast asleep.”
Ella was asleep, her head tilted to the side. At what point she had fallen asleep, Josie wasn’t quite sure. She had been too busy making up the story to have noticed.
Josie bent and kissed her little girl on the forehead. Ella didn’t stir. She always slept heavily, never waking until morning.
Josie was counting on that, as terrible of a risk as it was to take. She had no choice.
She stood and crossed the whole of the cabin in a few steps, reaching the door to the inhospitable outside. There, she took a last look back at her sleeping daughter to remind herself of why she was doing this. In her story, the bear family had needed food, just like her own family did. This was what had to be done for them to survive.
“Here we go,” she whispered to herself.
Josie took a deep breath and pushed the door open, and the fierce wind pushed right back at her, almost slamming the door shut again. She twisted and put her shoulder against the door, heaving it open just enough to slip out.
The wind tore right through her coat, chasing away any warmth she might have had left until all that remained was the glow of love in her chest. Worn threadbare, the coat was never going to offer much protection from the elements. What she really desired was the dark brown color of the fabric, which would allow her to blend in with her surroundings.
Huge pine trees surrounded the cabin, thick black trunks shooting straight up from the earth before exploding into layers of wide branches. The branches blocked out most of the moonlight on clear nights, and on this night a thick blanket of cloud covered the heavens. She would have an even harder time seeing than usual. One wrong step and it would be all over for her, and no one would come to save Ella.
No one knew where they were.
Josie walked into the forest, the trees engulfing her. The ground was riddled with ferns and other low, creeping vegetation, all of which snagged at the hem of her dress like tiny claws. The ground was also covered in rocks, which were hidden beneath the ferns and coated in a layer of slippery pine needles. She clutched at the tree trunks as she made her way down the steep slope in front of the cabin, using them to keep herself upright as her shoes slid on the unseen stones.
It’s quiet tonight, Josie thought. The mountain forests were typically noisy as heck with crickets chirping and other insects humming and whirring. She should have been hearing raccoons and foxes move about in the undergrowth, seen waving ferns in the distance as deer glided silently by. And always there would be owls hooting, and night birds shrieking.
It must have been the thick, black layer of clouds overhead, she reasoned. All the animals were tucked away in their homes, anticipating the rain just like she was. She had watched that storm coming for most of the day and had expected rainfall by then, but there hadn’t been a single droplet. Very strange.
Reaching a large, flat boulder covered in moss that she used as a landmark, Josie turned to follow an old game trail, skirting around the edge of a meadow and plunging again into the trees before meeting up with a creek. She bent and scooped up a mouthful of the frigid trickle of water to wet her throat, then followed its chuckling course further down the mountain. Always down, always onward, no matter how her legs ached, no matter the chilled mountain air slowly turning her bones to icicles.
That was how to reach her version of the little bear’s secret garden cave.
After another long while of walking, she reached the abrupt edge of a hill, over which the creek fell, splashing with increased vigor to become a waterfall at the bottom. A thin river flowed from the waterfall pool, running right through the middle of a valley. There was a ranch down there in the valley. The clouds overhead threw the features of the ranch into impenetrable shadows, but she had seen it in the daytime too and knew there was a cattle barn, a stable filled with horses, and two houses, one larger than the other.
There was no way to safely descend the hill from where she stood. She lingered anyway, watching the ranch for signs of activity. A warm light burned in the window of the main house but as she watched, she saw no movement.
Does that light mean there’s someone still awake down there?
If only she could come back another time when there wasn’t any light at all. But she had no choice. She couldn’t wait any longer.
She turned and walked along the edge of the hill until she reached a spot where she could go down into the hills that made up the valley’s longest wall. She stopped long before she reached the bottom, at a place where vines and moss-covered shattered stones, some of which were bigger than the cabin.
Josie sat on one of the boulders to catch her breath, as she always did. She put her head in her hands and thoughts came out from the shadows in the back of her mind, taunting her. Her shoulders drew up tight around her neck as she cringed.
Maybe if I had worked a little harder…
She had marched into that bank with her head held high, and walked out of there with it hanging low. The debts Owen had accrued were too great and the bank would give her no further loans. She had to start making payment, and fast.
She had worked two jobs, three sometimes. Butchered the last of the chickens and the pig. Sold off the cattle, all of the tools, most of her clothes, and anything else they didn’t absolutely require for survival.
It still wasn’t enough.
The ranch was taken.
There was only one place where they could go: her father’s old hunting cabin up in the mountains above Deadwood. He had taken her there a few times before he died, before her marriage to Owen, and she had still remembered the way. It had started snowing on the day she and Ella made the journey with just what they could carry. Only Ella had given her the strength to plow onward through the drifts until, at last, they finally reached the cabin.
That was weeks ago and her own stupidity still amazed her. The cabin might have collapsed in the years since she had last been there. They really could have died, buried in the snow to never be seen again, and it would have been her fault.
We can still die.
“Get up, Josie,” she muttered, and slapped her cheeks with both hands. She barely felt it.
Her joints groaned in protest as she moved to a portion of the ivy-covered stone on the side of a slope. She used her arm to push the ivy aside, revealing the gaping black mouth of a hidden tunnel.
She had stumbled upon the tunnel not long after first arriving at the cabin. After giving all of her food to Ella for the past couple days, there was finally nothing left, not so much as a crumb. Her stomach aching with hollowness, she had gone off to try and forage from the land, although she had no experience with that. Foraging proved to be harder than expected and she had walked for a very long time without even seeing a single berry.
On the verge of collapse, she had smelled it. Cooking meat. Mouth flooding with saliva, she had tracked the scent to this very spot in the hills and discovered it was wafting from the hidden tunnel. Drafts of air blowing through the tunnel had carried the scent all the way from the house down there in the valley.
Josie ducked into the tunnel, leaves tickling the back of her neck. The tunnel walls were earth and stone and she could easily touch both at one time. She trailed her hands along both walls and walked forward into the endless dark. Slithering shapes and specks of light danced before her. Her mind was playing tricks on her. She knew there was nothing in the tunnel but stone and soil and sometimes rats; she heard them squeaking sometimes, their tiny sharp claws skittering over rocks.
Her grasping hands encountered occasional gaps in the tunnel, other earthen halls branching off. Where they led and why they were there, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t even sure why there were hidden tunnels at all, especially ones that went from the hills and down into the valley, into the cellar of the ranch house.
The first time she had snuck into the cellar, she thought she must have finally started hallucinating from hunger and imagining the bounty before her: barrels of apples and pears, potatoes, sacks of flour, beans, rice. Aged cheese on the shelves, cured meats hanging from a rack.
She had eaten an apple crouched in the mouth of the tunnel, devouring everything, even the stem and seeds, and then she had filled the pockets of her coat with as much food as would fit to take back to Ella.
The exhilaration of the find hadn’t lasted long, quickly replaced with a burning shame. Her father had raised her with morals. When she was a child and all the other children were stealing candy from the general store, she never had, no matter how they laughed and called her a yellow belly.
But Ella changed things.
She tried so hard to feed her in other ways and she had endured her own hunger for days until she was forced to return to the tunnel, the cellar, to steal from whatever family lived in the house.
She could only comfort herself with the thought that one day she would pay them back. Even if they never figured out she was stealing from them, she would pay them back. She’d get another job soon, move into a better place, and save up the money she owed this family. For one final time, she’d sneak into the cellar and leave the money where they would find it.
For now, surviving came first.
She knew she was getting close to the cellar when the ground leveled out beneath her feet. She slowed now, feeling out with one hand in front of her. Her fingertips brushed against wood, a panel that covered the tunnel entrance. She slid it to the side and there was the cellar, ripe with the scents of salted meat and dried fruit.
She listened past the hammering of her heart and heard nothing. She swallowed hard and left the tunnel. She moved toward the barrel of apples, as it was always full and she felt like she could take from it easily.
Something moved behind her, something far larger than a rat.
Her heart jumped up into her throat. She froze. In the next instant, a huge arm wrapped around her waist from behind. A lightning bolt of the worst terror she had ever experienced shot through her and she opened her mouth to scream.
A bear paw of a hand clamped over her face, muffling her cries.
Into her ear, a man’s husky voice whispered. “Got you now, thief.”
You just read the first chapters of "Sheltered by the Mountain Man's Love"!
Are you ready, for an emotional roller-coaster, filled with drama and excitement?
If yes, just click this button to find how the story ends!
Session expired
Please log in again. The login page will open in a new tab. After logging in you can close it and return to this page.