Prologue

Virginia City, Montana

1884

“Your pa’s bringin’ a friend for supper,” Margaret Carter said, wiping her hands on her apron. “So, mind your manners and keep your hair out of your face.”

Abby moved through the small kitchen with the easy manner of someone who’d been helping her mother since she was old enough to reach the tabletop. The room was warm from the oven, the air thick with the smell of onions, roast, and cornbread baking.

Margaret worked beside her daughter. She had her sleeves rolled up and her hair pinned back, revealing the tired wrinkles around her eyes. She’d spent nearly the entire day cleaning Mrs. Fleming’s house, and her hands were red and swollen from doing the woman’s laundry. Abby tried not to notice it as she did most days, but it hurt her heart to see.

Abby tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Who’s coming? Do I know him?”

Margaret shook her head. “I don’t think so. It’s someone he met through the supply wagons, I think. A merchant of some sort.”

A merchant. That sounded important. Abby imagined a short man with a tidy coat, spectacles, and polished boots who spoke clearly and didn’t smell of horses. She wondered why such a man would want to eat supper with them. She glanced around their little kitchen, with its cracked floorboards and mismatched chairs. But Pa had friends from all sorts of places, so she didn’t question it.

She stirred the beans, listening to the soft bubbling. The house was quiet except for the stove and the wind brushing against the outside walls. It was a peaceful kind of quiet, the kind that made her feel safe and comfortable. Life on their little farm was hard, but it made her more grateful for every blessing she received.

When she’d finished setting the table, the door finally opened. Her pa stepped inside first, stomping the dirt off his boots. He looked tired and out of sorts. Abby couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but something was wrong. He seemed apprehensive. Guilty maybe.

Behind Pa came a man that she’d never seen before. Pa walked over and gave Ma a soft kiss on the cheek. Then, he turned to the man.

“Margaret, this is Edmund Ashford, the man I told you about,” he said.

Abby blinked, her forehead creasing. Edmund Ashford? What had Pa told her about him? She couldn’t recall any mention of him.

“Good evening,” Edmund said to her mother. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Her Ma returned the greeting, then it seemed like all eyes turned to Abby. “And this must be the beautiful Abby,” he said, walking over, taking her hand, and bringing it to his lips. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

She blushed, frozen with surprise that this stranger would come over and try to kiss her. And in front of her parents, too. Who was this man?

He was handsome in a way that didn’t sit right with her, but she couldn’t say exactly why. He was the kind of smooth that felt a little too rehearsed to be genuine. His blond hair was styled too neatly for a man who claimed to spend his days on the road. And his coat—fine wool, trimmed and pressed—looked like it belonged in a banker’s office, not a dusty Montana farm.

Even his boots were too shiny. He smiled as he stepped back, a bright, easy grin meant to charm, but something in it struck her as hollow. His icy blue eyes swept the room, sharp and measuring, lingering on every corner before settling on her again. The longer he looked at her, the more her stomach tightened.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that beneath all that polish and gentleness, something was very wrong. He reminded her of a wolf dressed up in Sunday clothes.

“Abby, this is Edmund,” Pa said, giving her a shaky smile. “Edmund is a merchant from Bozeman.”

Edmund smiled and bowed his head politely. “Mrs. Carter. Abby. Thank you for having me.”

“It’s no trouble,” her ma said, smiling in that polite way she used when she wasn’t sure what to make of someone. “Supper’s nearly ready.”

Edmund’s eyes lingered on Abby a moment longer before he turned to hang his coat. She busied herself by helping her ma, pretending not to notice.

All through supper, Edmund spoke easily, filling the room with stories of mining towns and mountain passes, trading posts, and bustling streets. He talked about how the world was changing and how that meant more opportunities for men like him. He told them how these days, education and refinement could lift a person higher than their birth ever could.

As the meal went on, she found herself shrinking inside, wishing she could slip out the back and get away. Edmund’s gaze kept drifting toward her, sly and assessing. She didn’t know what he wanted, but she knew she didn’t like being looked at that way.

During dessert, Edmund looked at her pa and said, “You’ve a fine daughter, Thomas. She seems quiet and gentle. A rare combination these days for a woman so beautiful.”

Abby felt her stomach twist. While the words seemed complimentary, she didn’t like the way he said it, as though he was appraising a horse he meant to buy. She kept her eyes on her plate, hoping no one noticed that she wasn’t eating.

Pa smiled, pride softening his features. “Abby’s a good girl. She’s thoughtful and hardworking and helps her ma with everything around here.”

Edmund smiled at her again, and Abby forced herself to return it, even though it felt stiff and forced.

When the plates were cleared, and her ma had made coffee for them, Edmund folded his hands on the table and spoke with a calm certainty that made Abby’s stomach churn.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about our discussion, Thomas, and you’re right,” he said, taking a long sip from his cup. “A girl like Abby deserves more than a small life on a tiny farm like this. She deserves schooling and a proper home. A future with comfort and security.”

Pa nodded slowly, as though he’d been waiting for Edmund to say it.

“I can give her those things,” Edmund continued. “I intend to take her back with me tonight. My sister and cousins will be there to make sure everything is proper and to keep her company until her enrollment in finishing school. She’ll want for nothing. And as soon as we’re settled, we’ll send for you to visit.”

Abby froze.

The words didn’t make any sense at first. They hung in the air like a strange smell, impossible to grasp or even identify. The only thing she understood was that her parents were sending her away. With him. She looked from Edmund to her parents, expecting them to laugh or shake their heads, to say he was only fooling.

But no one was laughing.

Margaret’s eyes were shining—not with tears, but with hope. Real hope. Like her prayers had finally been answered.

Pa cleared his throat, then looked at Abby. “This is a good offer, Abby. A really good one. Edmund’s got money and connections. He can give you things we never could. And he wants you.”

Abby felt the room tilt. “Pa… I – I don’t even know him.”

“You’ll get to know him,” Margaret said gently as she reached across the table and took Abby’s hand. “It’s normal to be a little scared at first. But he’s a respectable man.”

Respectable. That word felt wrong in her ears. Nothing about Edmund’s oily grin or hungry gaze felt respectable.

Edmund leaned forward slightly, and Abby drew back.

“I understand this is sudden for you,” he said. “But opportunities like this don’t come along very often. They sure don’t come along twice. You’ll have a fine home, new dresses, and new carriages. Everything a young woman like you could want.”

She blinked at him. A young woman like her, he’d said. How would he have any idea what kind of woman she was? They’d only just met.

“And what do you get out of this?” Abby wanted to know.

“Abigail!” her mother gasped. “Mind your manners, girl.”

“No, it’s all right. It’s a fair question,” Edmund said lightly. He turned to Abby. “I founded Englewood Academy for Young Women back in Boston — a well‑regarded finishing school for the daughters of prominent politicians and businessmen. It’s costly to attend, of course. But each year, I set aside a few places for girls whose families cannot pay the tuition. Your name was put before me, and I thought you might make good use of the chance.” Abby swallowed hard. She didn’t want dresses or schooling. She wanted her small kitchen, her mother’s quiet humming, and her father’s tired smile. She wanted the life she knew, even if it was hard.

But when she looked at her parents, she saw the truth she’d been trying not to see for years. The lines etched deep in her pa’s face. The way her ma’s shoulders slumped, like the weight she carried on them was just too much. The constant worry that lived in their eyes, even on good days. And she knew it was a struggle for them just to put food on the table.

They were worn down. Worn thin. And she was another mouth to feed—not that they had ever complained. But she was another responsibility that they’d never asked for. They’d never complained. and took on the responsibility of raising her willingly, with love and devotion. Abby had never felt unloved or uncared for. Her life could have gone so very differently.

Twenty‑two years ago, her pa had stepped outside to feed the animals and found a baby bundled on his doorstep instead. He found Abby. He carried Abby inside without a second thought and set her gently in his wife’s arms.

Her ma always said that the moment she laid eyes on the tiny, sweet‑faced girl, she knew the Lord had meant her for them. After six years of marriage with no child of her own, her ma took it as a sign straight from heaven. She’d told Abby all her life that she was a gift from God, sent to fill a space they’d nearly given up hope of filling.

Her throat tightened, then she looked at her mother. “You… you want me to go with him?”

Pa reached across the table and patted her arm. His calloused fingers were warm and familiar. “We want you to have a better life, Abby. One that we can’t give you.”

Margaret nodded, the tears in her eyes starting to spill down her cheeks. “He’ll take care of you, sweetheart. Give you things that me and your pa could only dream of.”

Abby could feel her soul shriveling up inside. She wanted to refuse. She wanted to stand up and scream right in Edmund’s face, tell him that she would rather eat a shovel full of worms than go with him. But the hope in her parents’ faces left no room for refusal.

“Of course, I’ll do whatever you tell me to do,” she told her pa.

Edmund smiled smugly and rose from his chair, smoothing his coat. “Good. We leave at first light. Best to get an early start.”

Abby’s breath caught. First light. It was already getting late, and now she’d be up half the night packing. But she nodded anyway. It was a small, slight motion, but it sealed her fate.

“Good girl,” Edmund said softly, and the words made her skin crawl.

Her parents smiled, trying to look happy. They were clearly relieved—maybe even proud that they’d found such a fortunate match for Abby. And that, more than anything, kept her from changing her mind.

Abby stood there in the warm kitchen after Edmund left. Her entire world had just been turned upside down. She could still smell her ma’s cornbread in the air. And when she first started making that pan of cornbread, life was normal and good. Now, in the space of an hour or two, everything felt like it was slipping away, like water through her fingers.

She didn’t know why Edmund’s presence made her so uneasy. But it did. She didn’t know why his smile felt wrong or why his eyes seemed to constantly weigh and measure her. But they did. She just didn’t have the words to describe any of it.

All she knew was that she was leaving at dawn with a man she didn’t know or trust, because her parents believed he was her salvation.

And because she loved them, she would go.

Even if every part of her screamed that she shouldn’t.

Chapter One

Gallatin Valley, near Bozeman, Montana

1884

“You sure you’ve got everything, sweetheart?” Abby’s mother hovered in the doorway, wringing her hands in her apron.

Abby nodded. It was all she could do to respond around the knot in her throat. “Yes, Mama.”

Her father waited at the top of the porch steps, hat in hand, as he watched Edmund load her trunk into the wagon. The boards creaked under Abby’s boots as she stepped toward him.

“I’ll miss you, Papa,” she told him.

He turned to look at her, wearing the same expression as her ma. They looked a little proud and a little sorrowful. She could tell her pa was afraid. Or maybe just resigned.

“This is a good thing, Abby,” he said. “Be kind to your husband and remember everything we’ve taught you. Say your prayers and be a good girl. You’ll receive all the wonderful blessings you deserve.”

Abby smiled. “I will. I love you, Papa.”

He opened his arms wide and returned her smile. She wasted no time, crossing the porch and throwing her arms around his neck. Sobbing, she held on tightly to the only father she’d ever known. His embrace was solid and familiar, a shelter she’d leaned on her whole life. In his arms, she felt safe in a way she feared she might never feel again.

“Come on, darlin’,” he told her as he gently tugged her away. “You can do this, Abby.”

She sniffed and nodded, glancing back at the wagon. It was hitched and ready in the yard. Edmund sat on the bench seat, stiff-backed and impatient. He gripped the reins tightly in his gloved hands, staring straight ahead at the darkness.

Her mother pulled Abby into a tight embrace. Then, she forced herself to let go, wiping her eyes and sniffing. “Write us as soon as you get settled,” she whispered. “Don’t forget.”

“I won’t forget,” Abby said, her voice trembling. She gave her mother one more brief hug, breathing in the familiar scent of flour and woodsmoke. Then, she stepped back and tried to give her ma a brave smile.

Her father was never a man given to displays of affection, but he reached out and cupped her face in both hands. “You mind your husband,” he said softly before kissing her forehead lightly. “Do your part, and he’ll do his.”

Abby nodded, but something inside her whispered a warning. She wanted to ask how he could be so sure. Why did he trust this man so much? And why did she feel so cold inside when she looked at Edmund? But she swallowed the questions. She would be an obedient, dutiful daughter. Her parents had worked too hard and sacrificed too much to give her this chance at a better life. She should be grateful.

“Abigail!” Edmund’s voice cracked across the yard like a whip. “Let’s go. We’re late.”

Her mother flinched. Her father’s jaw tightened. But neither said a word.

Abby forced a smile for them. It was small and shaky, but it was all she could manage. Then, she lifted her skirts and walked toward the wagon. Edmund didn’t offer a hand up. He didn’t even shift over to make room for her. She climbed up beside him, setting her bag at her feet.

The moment she sat, he snapped the reins, and the wagon lurched forward.

Her parents stood on the porch, waving until the road curved and they disappeared from sight. Abby kept her eyes on the empty stretch behind them long after they were gone, as if she could hold onto them by sheer will.

When she finally faced forward again, the world felt new and unfamiliar.

The ride began quietly enough. Edmund kept his eyes on the road, his back straight, and his expression unreadable. He asked if she was warm enough. If she’d eaten. If she needed to stop before they reached the main road. His tone was polite but distant, as if he were speaking to a stranger. And, in a way, she supposed he was. She answered softly, appreciating the calm.

But as the miles passed, so did his politeness.

He stopped asking questions. Stopped glancing her way. His jaw clenched tighter with each passing mile, as though the effort of civility wore on him. Abby noticed. Of course, she did. But she thought maybe she was imagining it. He was obviously tired and focused on the horses. Maybe he had responsibilities waiting for him at home. There could have been a thousand reasons for his mood.

She folded her hands in her lap and watched the landscape roll by, the pine forests giving way to open stretches of grassland until the mountains appeared on the distant horizon. She tried to picture her new life. A proper home. A husband with means. Lessons, he’d said, and an education. A future she’d never dared dream of.

She held onto those ideas like a lifeline as the distance between her and home grew. The farther they went, the twitchier her fingers became. She glanced at the unfamiliar landscape around her, picking at the hem of her skirt. If the knot in her stomach was this tight already, what would it be like by the time she reached Boston?

Hours later, when her back was aching so bad that she wasn’t sure how much longer she could go on, the wagon turned off the main road and onto a long, tree-lined lane. Abby straightened in her seat. And finally, a house came into view, rising slowly behind a cluster of tall pines.

Her breath caught.

It was beautiful, large and whitewashed, with a wide porch and tall windows that gleamed in the afternoon sun. The yard was neat, the fences tall and straight, and the barn freshly painted. Everything about it spoke of wealth, order, and stability.

Relief washed through her. At least he hadn’t lied about the house.

She turned to Edmund, hope flickering in her chest. “It’s lovely,” she said softly. “Truly lovely.”

He grunted in response, not bothering to look at her.

Still, she pressed on, eager to find the polite version of him that she’d met before. She was also hoping that she hadn’t ruined any potential relationship before they even arrived at the school. “Is your sister here already? You mentioned that she would be chaperoning—”

Edmund snapped his head toward her so suddenly she flinched.

“Enough!” he barked. “Hold your tongue.”

The words hit her like a slap.

Abby stared at him, stunned. The politeness was gone. His eyes were cold, flat, and full of irritation, as though her voice alone offended him.

“I—I didn’t mean—” she began.

“I don’t care what you meant,” he cut in. “You’ll speak when spoken to.”

For a heartbeat, she couldn’t breathe. No one, not her father or her mother, or anyone else, had ever taken that tone with her. Her cheeks burned hot, then cold. She stared at her hands as if they belonged to someone else. She folded them tight in her lap to keep them from shaking.

This was the man her parents had trusted with their daughter; the man she was expected to respect and look up to…to learn from.

The wagon jolted to a stop in front of the house, but she barely felt it. Edmund climbed down without a backward glance, leaving her sitting there with the echo of his voice still ringing in her ears.

Abby sat frozen for a moment, not sure what to do. She’d known deep down in her gut that something was wrong. She’d felt it in the way he’d spoken to her that morning in front of her parents, the impatience simmering beneath his polished veneer.

But she’d pushed it aside.

She’d wanted to believe. She’d wanted to make her parents happy.

Now, staring at the grand house that should have been the new home of her dreams, she felt a chill creep through her.

“Get down here,” he said.

Her bones felt brittle, but she forced herself to move. She gathered her bag, stepped down from the wagon, and looked at the house again. It wasn’t pretty anymore. Now, it was ugly. It loomed above her, disguised as something beautiful and inviting. But she could see the ugliness beneath that lovely veneer. Just like Edmund.

A hollow ache opened in her chest, and all those uneasy feelings she’d pushed aside came rushing back. They were cruel and merciless. He’d fooled her parents, and he’d almost fooled her, too. Now she was bound to him, bundled straight into the hands of a man she didn’t know at all.

Shame prickled under her skin, shame that she hadn’t seen his deceit sooner. And beneath it, a deeper fear took hold as she understood that there was no way out now.

She tried telling herself she was overreacting. That he was just tired from the long journey. Or maybe he was being forced into this union, just like her, and he was angry or resentful. Maybe his sister was inside and could talk to him. She had to hope that tomorrow would be better.

She had to believe it.

Abby followed Edmund to the porch steps, her heart thudding. She wondered if she showed Edmund that she was grateful and accepting of her new life, that maybe he’d soften again. He couldn’t be too angry with her. She’d done nothing to him.

She smoothed her skirt and forced a small, hopeful smile. “I’m excited to meet your sister,” she said lightly, trying to sound cheerful. “Truly, I am. I know I must’ve seemed nervous earlier, but I’m ready now. Ready to learn, ready to be a good wife.”

Edmund didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at her.

Still, she pressed on, desperate to mend whatever she’d broken. “You mentioned lessons,” she said, her voice brightening with effort. “It all sounds so exciting. I’d like to start soon, if—if that’s still your wish.”

Finally, he turned to her, and the look in his eyes made her skin crawl. She saw it then. The polite mask he’d worn earlier hadn’t just slipped temporarily. It was gone—stripped away entirely. What remained was ugly, angry, and cold.

“For God’s sake, woman,” he snapped, “I told you to stop talking!”

Her mouth fell open. “I—I only meant—”

“I don’t care what you meant!” His voice rose, harsh and cutting as his hand sprang forward and he wrapped his fingers around her neck. He squeezed tight, nearly cutting off her air. “You’ll speak when spoken to. And no other time. Do you understand?”

Heat rushed to her cheeks. Shame, confusion, and fear, all tangled together until she couldn’t tell one from the other. She nodded quickly, or tried to, then lowered her gaze.

Inside, her stomach lurched, and a cold panic crept up her throat. She’d suspected something was wrong with him, but she’d prayed she was wrong. The truth stood in front of her, unmistakable and ugly, and impossible to deny. But there she was, alone with him, miles from home, with no one to turn to and nowhere to run.

The thought of running flickered through her mind, and she had a wild, reckless urge to bolt from the wagon and disappear into the trees. But her legs felt rooted to the floorboards. All she could do was sit there, trembling, as the awful reality of the situation settled over her like a stone.

“Good.” He turned away again. “Remember it.”

She followed him silently, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. She didn’t want to break down in tears. Not in front of him.

They reached the front door just as it swung open. Two men stepped out, and Abby froze.

The first man was enormous—broad shoulders, thick neck, arms like tree trunks. His beard was wild and matted, streaked with gray, and he had a jagged scar cut across his cheek. His eyes were small and dark, and when they landed on Abby, something like hatred flickered there.

The second man was leaner but somehow even more frightening. His hair hung greasy around his face, and his grin showed several missing teeth. A long Bowie knife rested on his hip, the handle worn smooth from use. He looked her up and down with a slow, deliberate stare that sent a cold shiver up her spine. These were not teachers or farmhands. They weren’t even respectable men. They looked like dangerous outlaws.

Abby took a small step back.

The bearded man jerked his chin toward her. “This the girl?”

Edmund nodded. “Yes. Her folks won’t be any bother. Did we find a buyer?”

The thin man’s grin widened. “Yeah. That same saloon in Bozeman that bought those last girls from us. Said they’re working out nice. They’re payin’ good for any fresh stock we send their way. They’ll be pleased when they see this one.” He leered at Abby, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Abby blinked.

The last girls?

Fresh stock?