Prologue

Somewhere in Nebraska

1840

Black beady eyes stared out from a crack in the rock right at Piper’s feet. They weren’t blinking. She leaned her head to the side and squinted. She could just make out the long, coiled body, with dark brown and orange colors visible in the shadows.

The snake flicked out its tongue. Piper stuck out her tongue right back and giggled.

“Piper! What are you doing over there?”

Looking up, Piper saw her mother waiting for her, the skirt of her pretty blue dress draping all the way down to the green grass. The wagons were moving on without them, not going anywhere fast.

Piper snuck a peek into the crack again and saw the snake was gone. She was a little disappointed that her friend had gone away, but it was more important that she make her mother happy. She turned and ran to her, dodging around the half-hidden stump of some dead bush to toss herself into her mother’s arms.

“Mama! I’m here!” Piper announced, hugging her around the waist.

“I see that, my sweet.” Mama touched Piper’s hair gently. “What were you doing over there? I thought you would be playing with Abigail and Rebecca.”

Piper shook her head and frowned. “Mama, they’re no fun. They don’t want to play. They just want to go and watch the boys play their games. But I don’t see what’s so fun about that.”

Mama gave one of those smiles that Piper often saw on the faces of grown-ups. They smiled even when Piper didn’t think she’d said or done anything funny. Then Mama frowned instead, and Piper wished she wouldn’t; she didn’t like to see her looking so sad. “Well, they are a little bit older than you. That’s alright, you don’t have to play with them if you don’t want to. But let me know where you are so I don’t have to run around and find you, alright?”

“Okay,” Piper agreed, nodding, her braids bouncing. That seemed like an easy thing to do to make her mother happy.

“Good. Now, come on. We don’t want to be left behind.”

Mama took her hand and started to walk with her. They walked alongside the wagon train they were traveling with to some special far-away land called the West. Piper didn’t know exactly how far away the West was or what they were supposed to find there. All she knew was that one day, shortly after she turned seven, her parents had told her they were leaving Chicago. She thought they might walk to wherever they were going, but instead, Papa had bought a big covered wagon and four huge cows called oxen. They had bought a bunch of food and packed it all up in the wagon along with nearly everything they owned, then gone to join a bunch of other people who also had wagons and oxen.

That had been a long time ago. Days and days. Piper didn’t know how many. At first, everything had been scary and loud and busy. Now there was a routine that everyone followed from getting up in the morning to going to sleep at night. The land was so flat where they were, and the wagons moved so slowly, that they could see almost the whole world at once and know ahead of time where they would be camping.

“What were you doing over by those rocks?” Mama asked her. They were keeping pace with the wagons now, staying ahead of the big cluster of cattle that the men and older boys were driving behind them.

“I was looking for flowers.” Piper looked up at her mother, who she thought was just about the prettiest woman ever, with her thick blonde hair and eyes as big and blue as the sky. “But I saw a mouse.”

She lied because Mama was afraid of snakes. Papa had taught Piper that it was okay to look at animals if she didn’t get too close and make them feel threatened. She had seen deer, badgers, foxes, and all sorts of birds, but finding snakes was hard and took up a lot of time, which kept her from being so bored between mealtimes and chores.

Mama looked like she didn’t believe Piper. “You passed quite a lot of flowers.”

“None of them were pretty enough. I want to make a necklace, and I need only the best flowers.”

“A necklace like mine?” Mama touched the fine gold necklace that wrapped around her throat. She reached behind her neck and unclasped the necklace, then crouched down beside Piper. “Why don’t you try it on?”

Piper gasped at the offer. “Really? But you always said….”

“That you were too little. But you’re old enough now to try it on.” Mama leaned in close and wrapped the chain around Piper’s neck. Piper held still, feeling the cold little delicate links on her skin. The pendant was a silver circle with tiny gemstones like little stars all the way around it. Piper let out a little squeal as Mama did up the clasp and let the necklace dangle around her neck, the pendant sitting heavy at her throat.

Piper clasped her hands together and bounced up and down on her feet. “Am I as beautiful as you?”

“Oh, even more.” Mama smiled and kissed the top of her head, giving her that special warm and loved feeling that only her mother could give her. It made her think of wintertime, being all warm and snuggly inside the house with snow all over the ground and cookies in the oven.

“You can wear that now for a little while, but don’t lose it.” Mama stood. “I’m going to want it back later.”

“I would never, ever lose it!” Piper put on her most serious face. “I promise.”

“Good girl. Now, why don’t we….” Mama suddenly stopped speaking.

Piper looked up. Mama was staring at a stand of trees not too far from the trail, and when Piper saw what was there, she stared, too, even though it was rude.

Men on horseback were coming out of the trees. They were big men, and they had pistols and rifles and were pointing them at all the people that Piper had come to know. Suddenly, everyone was shouting, women were running, and men from the train were grabbing their own guns.

Piper’s mother seized her, her feet leaving the ground. Helpless, she clung to her mother and cried, “What’s happening?”

Mama held her so tight that she couldn’t breathe, running with her through the crowd. Faces flew by, all twisted up and scared. The men from the trees waved their guns around and yelled. They grabbed people and pushed them down. They were ripping open the wagon covers and taking out bags of flour and clothes.

Someone pushed past them, running the other way. Piper recognized him, and so did her mother.

“Michael!” Mama yelled to Papa.

Papa stopped and turned back. His round, bearded face was almost always smiling, but not right then. He was holding his shotgun in both hands. Piper had never seen him fire a gun before, not even for hunting, but looking at her father with that in his hands, holding it like he meant to use it, she finally understood what was happening all around them.

The bad men were attacking them, stealing from them.

“Don’t worry, Coral!” Papa hollered. “Just get to the wagon and hide.”

Mama started to run again. Piper could hear how quickly she was breathing, felt her heart thumping. Papa was just standing there, watching them go. Piper held out her arms to him. He needed to come and hide with them. They would be safe together until the bad men went away.

Papa looked at her, and his mouth opened as he started to say something. Then, a loud, sharp sound like a crack of thunder went through the air. Papa staggered forward with a grunt. He dropped his shotgun on the ground, then went to his knees.

“Papa!” Piper yelled. She squirmed and kicked in her mother’s arms, trying to get free and go to him.

Papa grunted again and sagged forward like he was falling asleep, but his eyes were open, and he never stopped looking at Piper. His chest touched the ground, and that was when Piper saw the big, spreading circle of bright red wetness in the middle of his back.

“Mama! Papa’s been shot! He’s been shot!” Other people were firing their guns now, and the screams were louder, and Piper couldn’t do anything. Mama was holding onto her too tightly. No matter how she shrieked and kicked and pounded at her shoulders, Mama wouldn’t let go of her. They were going further away from Papa, even though he was hurt. He was just lying there, and people were going around him like he wasn’t there, not stopping to help him.

Piper felt so many things. She didn’t know exactly what she was feeling anymore. This was all too much for her to understand.

Someone rode their horse right behind Mama, which meant right in front of Piper. The horse was black and covered in sweat. The rider reached down and grabbed Piper by the shoulders, yanking her up.

Fear burst through Piper. She screamed and grabbed onto Mama. Mama grabbed onto her, shouting, being dragged by the running horse, her feet slipping and sliding over the grass. Piper’s whole body was wrenched around and pulled on as the grown-ups fought over her, and all she could do was keep screaming.

The bad man kicked his horse, and it bucked, throwing Mama loose to tumble in the grass. Piper was swept up, clamped to him by his stinky, hairy forearm. She clawed at him, digging her nails into his skin. Thoughts flew through her head faster than the wind. She had to get free. She needed to go to Mama and Papa and help them up off the ground. She needed to hurt this bad man for stealing her away.

No matter how she fought, she couldn’t make anything happen. She could only watch as the trains and the people grew smaller with distance. Everyone from the wagon train was being rounded up, forced to stand together in a cluster inside a circle of men with guns. Piper was reminded of the circle that the wagon train formed every night, with all the wagons lined up and everyone on the inside to keep them safe.

She had a terrible, thunderstorm feeling in her middle that this circle wasn’t for protection.

Trees swallowed her vision as the man carrying her rode back into the trees. She was almost glad that she didn’t have to look at the adults and other children gathered up like that.

Piper looked up at the man holding onto her, keeping her pinned against him like she was a chicken. Maybe she could just ask him to let her go?

The man glanced down at her and bared his teeth. He looked like the bear Papa had pointed out to her from a distance once, all shaggy dark hair and big muscles.

“Yer mine now, girl.” His voice was the rumble of a waterfall, if the water was all filthy and thick and not good for drinking.

Piper closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at him anymore.

“And I know just what I’m goin’ to do with you.”

Chapter One

Rock Springs, Wyoming

1854

“Joy?” Tate stood at the base of the stairs with his hands on his hips. With the house almost entirely devoid of personal belongings and furniture, his voice echoed strangely. “Joy, are you coming on down? We’ve got to head out now.”

No response.

Tate frowned and listened for any of the sounds he would expect to hear when a little girl was packing her bags, scampering footsteps and perhaps grumbles of frustration when she tried to fit more into her suitcase than the bag could hold. He heard nothing, not even the sounds of movement. That must have meant she had finished packing. But why wasn’t she coming down?

Tate sighed. He would have to go fetch her himself. That was happening more and more often lately and was never a good experience for either of them.

“I’m coming up to check on you,” he called. He mounted the stairs, the step squeaking in its familiar way underneath his weight. Still no sign that Joy was listening, so he continued up, counting the stairs as he went.

Nine, ten, eleven of them in total, the wood worn to a polish from years and years of constant use. This might well be the last time he ever used them, and a pang of sentimentality hit him straight in the stomach. There were a lot of things that he would miss about the house and the ranch. It seemed silly to include using the staircase on the same list as the beds he had built himself and the sturdy fences that had lasted through even the strongest windstorms, but that was how it was.

Though he knew what he would really miss was the sight of his people on those stairs. Joy coming down them for breakfast in the morning, sleepy-eyed and messy-haired. Eileen….

The memories of his people.

At the top landing was a bifurcated hallway, half leading to a storage area and the other half to some closets and a small single bedroom. Tate ran his hand over the wall, feeling the smoother, stronger texture of the wood as opposed to what was used to build the main structure. This was a later addition, added on to the house before Joy came into the world, and he had been able to afford better materials than the scrap downstairs.

Just another thing I’m about to leave behind, Tate thought. All my hard work, all my time that I put into this place. Aaron’s time, too.

Pushing away the twinge of pain, he walked to the bedroom door and knocked. “I’m coming in,” he said.

He pushed the door open and stepped into the one room of the house that hadn’t yet been emptied of all personal belongings, and that was because they were scattered all across the bed and on the floor. The suitcase they were meant to be contained in was open and upside-down in a corner, with a petticoat tossed over it.

Sitting in the middle of the bed with her arms knotted tightly against her chest was Joy, Tate’s seven-year-old daughter. Joy lifted her head and stared at him, challenging. She had his thick, dark brown hair and green eyes, but that fierce look was entirely her mother’s. He could almost see Eileen as she had been two years ago, her chin up and her blue gaze snapping as she playfully argued with him over what was the right way to fry potatoes.

He blinked, and it was just Joy again.

Tate pinched the bridge of his nose and made himself pull in a breath so that he wouldn’t get angry with her. She was confused and in pain, too young to really understand what was happening around her.

When he felt that he had control of himself, he navigated through the field of tossed dresses, ribbons, and toys to grab the suitcase. He set it on the bed roughly, making Joy bounce.

“Now,” he said, “I know that I told you to finish your packing. This seems to have less in it than before. You want to explain to me what that’s about?”

Joy stared as flatly as an angered cat. “My friend Ruby’s pa would give her a spanking.”

“Well, I’m not Ruby’s pa. I’m yours.”

He never could understand why some folks thought hitting their children was the best way to handle them. In fact, it made him sick. He was a big man, and sometimes people mistook him for a mountain man rather than a rancher due to his longer hair and rugged way of dressing. He was strong, imposing to many, taller and broader than most other men, and he was expected to strike a child? He’d rather eat glass for breakfast than raise his hand against someone smaller and more defenseless.

Tate bent and started to gather up her dresses, folding them and placing them back in the case. He couldn’t pack them as neatly as they had been originally when he was aware of their time on the ranch running slowly down, minutes flowing like sand in an hourglass.

“I’m not going to leave the ranch,” Joy announced.

“That right?” He spoke without looking at her as he tucked an extra pair of shoes and a cloth ragdoll into the bag. “Well, you’d best work out something with the new owners of the ranch. They’ll be along tomorrow. If you’re lucky, maybe they’ll decide you can stay. You’ll probably need to work to earn your keep.”

Joy was quiet at that. Tate almost finished repacking before she spoke again. Her voice was smaller, barely above a whisper. “Papa, why do we have to leave the ranch?”

Tate put her bag down on the floor and moved to sit on the bed next to her. She had her knees drawn up and her legs wrapped around them now, making herself small. He put his hand gently on her shoulder, and she leaned into his touch. His heart twisted in his chest, stealing his voice, his words. He struggled to keep his composure for her, to explain yet another time what they were doing, the journey they were about to undertake, in the hopes that she would finally understand this time.

“Your Uncle Aaron, my brother, is going on to California with his wife. They want to go to California because they think they will be happier there, and they can have a new start. To get to California, you’ve got to sell most everything you own and pack up the rest in a wagon. Then you join up with a heap of other people in their own wagons and you all make the journey together.”

He paused. He could tell she was listening because of the little tilt of her head, a sweet puppy-like posture that brought a smile to his lips even right then.

“Now, you and I are going to join Uncle Aaron and go to California with him and Louise. We’re going because…because we haven’t been very happy here for a time. Right? I know you haven’t been happy, Joy.”

He put his arm around her and held her close to his chest, where she could hear his heart beating. She used to lie right on his chest when she was a restless baby, when there wasn’t anything else that could put her to sleep.

Joy tucked her face against him and clutched at his shirt with her small fists. “I miss Mama,” she whispered, trembling.

Tate closed his eyes and bowed his head over her. “Lord knows I miss her, too, honey.” His chest hitched, and he stopped, got control of himself again, hard as it was when all he could see in his mind’s eye was his wife.

“She’s here, Papa. We can’t just leave her behind.”

Tate leaned back and looked into Joy’s eyes. There was so much that he wished he could tell her. She just wasn’t old enough to understand. Heck, he felt he wasn’t old enough to understand, either.

“When Mama died, we had her buried in the cemetery behind the church. You remember? You were littler then, but we’ve visited her together since.”

Joy gave a slow nod. Eileen had died—been killed—two years ago when she was just five years old.

Tate held his daughter’s small hands in his and massaged them, rubbing his thumbs over their backs. “Your Mama was laid to rest in that cemetery, but she’s not here, honey. She’s not in Rock Springs. She’s not even in this house. She is in our hearts, and she’s going to come with us on our journey, so you don’t got to worry about leaving her behind.”

Joy’s eyes widened, and she wrested one of her hands from his, placing it over her chest. “She’s in my heart?”

“Sure, she is.” Tate nodded gravely and placed his hand over his own heart. “I think you and I need a fresh start in California, but no matter where we are, we’ll have her with us.”

Joy seemed to be going through everything he had just told her, her forehead creased in a way that was so much like her mother, it was painful. He rubbed his thumb over the rippling mountain range of wrinkles, and she blinked up at him. “How long is it going to take?”

“Weeks, at least. But it won’t be boring,” he added quickly, knowing how important fun had been to him as a child. “There will be plenty to do every day, and we’ll see all sorts of pretty things. Mountains and more flowers than you’ve ever thought possible. We’ll see rivers and waterfalls and animals. Huge herds of bison and even wild horses.”

Joy stretched out her legs, relaxing somewhat from her tight and curled position. “Will there be other children?”

“Of course.” Tate stood up. “Lots of other children for you to play with, I’d bet. Now, come on, won’t you? We’ve got to ride to stay with Aaron and Louise for the night so we can set out with the wagon tomorrow.”

Joy slid reluctantly off the bed and stood with her head lowered, in deep thought once more. Tate grabbed her bag and started out, expecting that she would follow.

“Papa?”