Prologue

Texas, Lone Ridge 1852

“Lord, why?” Anna Williams, Annie to her loved ones, questioned as tears blurred her vision even as they ran down her smooth cheeks.

Today, for the first time in her young life, she had realized her loved ones were fewer than she believed. How had it come to this? She hadn’t done anything to deserve such pain, such heartache.

“I’ll never trust another man as long as I live,” Annie declared in a broken voice. Her hand clutched at the pain ruthlessly tearing through her core as she stood in the middle of the field on their ranch.

How could her trust have been betrayed so thoroughly? Why would someone who had claimed to love her for so many years find it so easy to cast her aside? Was she so unworthy? Had the love they had shared for so long meant nothing?

Her mind, broken, sought to find a clue she had missed yet could find none. The day had started off fine. The morning sun graced it as if it were the first day God had ever made. The rays had been golden as they shone through the window into her bedroom as she got ready.

“You make as fine a bride as your ma did on her day,” Old Ma had stated as she smiled her toothless smile at her. She sat in the lone chair by the window overlooking the blooming gardens below.

Annie twirled in front of the mirror as a wide smile graced her already radiant face. “Truly?” she asked, pleasure fusing the tone of her voice.

“Yes, child,” Old Ma answered, the smile on her weathered face gentling, her old eyes shining with the warmth of love as she gazed at Annie. “Your ma was a sweet one. And she sure was pretty, just like you, girl.”

“Don’t make me cry today, Grandma. You know I don’t look good after a cry.”

“Pshh, crying is for ninnies. I didn’t raise no nincompoop.” Annie looked at her through the mirror and saw the moue she had expected. Her grandmother’s hair was now all white, but her gray eyes were still as sharp and incisive as ever. She sat with her back ramrod straight. Annie had never seen her slouch in all her life, and she had been insistent Annie learn that posture. “Now, finish up now. Your dad will be calling you down soon.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Annie replied, smiling as she recognized the love in her grandmother’s harsh tone.

Annie turned back to the mirror and gave herself a critical eye. She looked good, if she did say so. Her chestnut brown hair was in intricate braids, as befitting a bride. White roses, her dad’s pride and joy, were woven into it with some wildflowers that her grandmother loved.

She wore her mother’s lace-covered wedding gown. Her mother had handmade the intricate lace over the year her parents had been betrothed. Even though she had died when Annie was too young to remember, the gown made her feel as if she was with her.

Annie had had a good life; her grandmother took on the role of her mother, so she lacked nothing. Yet the knowledge her mother was dead had, at times, made her miss the bond. There were things her grandmother had always been too old to do, leaving Annie wondering if her mother would have done them with her. And when she saw others with siblings, she ached that her mother was dead and she had never had one.

Today, though, she was too happy to be in that frame of mind. Today, everything was perfect.

As if she had heard his mother’s declaration, her father called up, “Annie, it’s time to leave. Can’t keep the groom waiting.”

With more haste than was dignified, Annie rushed out of her room and down the stairs. Today, she was marrying the love of her life, the young man she had been in love with since she was thirteen. The only reason they had not married then was because their parents had said they were too young.

Her father was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, wearing his Sunday best and standing tall. Annie had inherited her brown eyes and slender form from him. He rarely smiled, but when he looked at her, she knew she was loved.

“You look lovely,” he complimented, his hand running around the rim of the hat he had in his hands, a habit of his.

“Thanks, Da.” She smiled at him, a wide smile that ached her cheeks. “Now, can we leave? I don’t want to be late.”

His lips twitched, his eyes lighting with amusement before he opened the door for her. Outside, their covered wagon was parked by the front door, their foreman sitting on the driver’s bench. It was decked with flowers and looked much better than it usually did.

Leading her to it, her father opened the door and helped her inside. Annie sat on the inside bench, and her father came in after her, followed by her grandmother. Their ranch wasn’t far from town; they could see the church steeple.

She could picture the stone and timber building that was the center of their town. Weathered from the harsh Texan sun and the occasional storm, it stood strong and resilient, the bastion of their community. Today, everyone would come together for her big day.

Soon, her father was helping her down and into the back room of the church. Annie frowned at that. She was supposed to come in from the front. That should have warned her, but she had been too excited and sat down to wait. And she had waited.

“Why are we waiting in the back room?” she asked her father, confused.

“Your groom isn’t here yet,” he explained.

Worry had set in. Annie wondered if something had happened to him. Andrew had never let her down before; only something terrible would have kept him from her. Yet as the hour passed, she heard nothing, and the congregation became restless.

Then, the young boy who worked at his family’s ranch had come in and handed her the note. The same crumpled note she now clutched in her hand.

“I am sorry, Annie, I can’t do this.” The words he had cowardly written echoed in her mind once more, shattering her heart. She sank to her knees, tears streaming down her face.

“Why, God?” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Why would you let this happen? All I wanted was to be a wife and mother. Have you forsaken me?”

Behind her, the sun set, casting long shadows over her, mirroring the darkness that now engulfed her soul. Annie clutched the cross around her neck, seeking comfort in her faith, but found only emptiness and despair.

Chapter One

Texas, Lone Ridge 1856

Dark clouds swirled above, the wind frantically plucking anything unsecured off the ground. Annie held the cellar door open as the last of the women dashed into it. Her worried gaze trailed on her father as he ordered the men to secure as much as possible.

Looking to the right, away from the town, she saw it bearing down on them. It was still too far, but they were clearly in its path. She could see debris swirling within its violent raging and imagined the carnage it had wrecked in its path.

“Hurry up, Da,” she muttered, her voice not even traveling far enough to reach her ears.

She knew they would lose some of their property, regardless of how much the ranch hands secured. She didn’t care about the coming loss; all she cared about was that they wouldn’t lose anyone. Things could be replaced, but not people.

Annie was tense, unconsciously wringing her hands as her eyes scanned the land she loved so much. Her back ached from holding herself stiff and yet at the ready, and she wanted to scream. So she bit her lip to stop herself from doing something so undignified.

It became darker, as if the day had been turned into night, the wind lashing at everything with dust and cold rain. She shivered, her muslin dress inadequate against the cold, even with the shawl she had about her shoulders. Why was Da still holding the men back?

Annie jumped as she felt a hand settle on her shoulder. She whipped her head back and saw her grandmother behind her. “Come inside,” she mouthed with exaggeration.

Annie shook her head, holding her chin at a stubborn angle. She would only go in when her father was done. Old Ma’s eyes became flinty, and with her hand wrapped around Annie’s arm, she pulled her into the cellar and then closed the door. She had forgotten how strong her grandma could be.

“You won’t be helping anyone if you get blown away,” she told Annie before sitting with the women. “Come, sit down,” she commanded.

With no other choice, Annie took the short stairs down and went to sit with them. Fear still gripped her heart as she listened to the storm’s rage. She wondered if this would be the last time they walked this earth. Some of these twisters had been known to snap the doors of the cellars off and kill those sheltering within.

Annie’s heart pounded as she sat with the women, their faces pale with fear. The storm’s fury was relentless, the howling wind and crashing thunder a constant reminder of the danger they were in. She clutched her hands together, trying to steady her breathing.

“Stay calm,” one of the older women said, her voice trembling but firm. “We’ve been through storms before. We’ll get through this one too.”

“Yes,” her grandmother agreed with a chuckle. “When you get to our age, you realize death is nothing to fear. Just the Lord calling you home.”

“True,” the first woman agreed. “Be at peace, child. The good Lord is in control.”

Annie nodded, though her mind was racing with worry. Her father and the men were still outside, battling the elements to secure the livestock and protect the property. She prayed they would be safe and return to the cellar unharmed.

Was she ready to meet her Lord? Annie wondered about what her grandmother and her friend had just said. Had she done enough that He would say to her, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant?’ Would she even see the pearly gates now that she hadn’t been to the Lord’s house in years? Or would the bitterness that kept her from church also keep her from heaven?

Two years back, Andrew had married a woman from back east, a teacher he had been corresponding with for a while. Annie had wondered if they had started when he should have considered marrying her. Whatever the case, they now had a son together, and for the sake of Andrew’s new wife and child, the people of their town were slowly embracing him again.

She could still remember the shock when they showed up at church. The congregation looked at her, some with morbid curiosity, wondering if she would break again. What faith she still had was broken when the good reverend preached about forgiveness two Sundays later.

What did he know about that? Had he been betrayed in front of the whole county? Was the man who had done that even now parading his new wife in front of her without ever explaining why he thought so little of her? Annie had sat there with a blank face as the reverend spoke to her, and once more, she was a spectacle. That was the last she had been to his church.

To be fair, the good reverend had tried to bring her back to the fold and still did, but Annie had remained stubborn. She had little desire to see another woman have what she should have had. And a part of her resented the preacher for readily accepting Andrew back after he had broken his word to her.

She knew she shouldn’t rejoice that the people of Lone Ridge shunned him. It was hardly what she believed. And yet her heart lightened a bit whenever she heard of or witnessed such. She felt both vindicated and disturbed in those instances, yet she could not move on.

The cellar door being violently thrown open startled her from her reverie. As did the screams the children and some of the women uttered. She jerked her head to the doors and was relieved to see her father and his men dashing in.

“Hush now,” her grandmother called and managed to calm the people with the command.

Annie chanced a look outside and saw the afternoon had turned even darker, as if it were twilight. The wind raged with a violence she had never seen in all her life, as if the madness of hell had been unleashed upon them. That thought had her shivering, and she turned back to the men to escape it.

“’Tis the worst storm to hit us in decades,” one of the men stated as he stumbled further in, his clothes soaked and his face etched with worry.

Annie’s heart pounded in her chest, the fear gripping her tightly. She glanced around the cellar, seeing the anxious faces of the women and children. They were all relying on the men to keep them safe, and the weight of that responsibility was heavy.

They were all soaked through, their clothes plastered to their bodies as some fought to pull the doors closed against the wind. The children huddled closer to their mothers, frightened gazes fixed on the violence only the doors had been keeping away from them.

“We need to stay calm,” her father said, his voice steady despite the chaos outside. “We’ll get through this if we keep our heads.”

Annie nodded, trying to draw strength from his words. She took a deep breath, willing herself to stay composed. The storm might be fierce, but they had faced challenges before and come out stronger.

The open doors chilled the cellar, which was warm because of the portable braziers the women had brought. Many kerosene lamps lit every corner of the otherwise dark cellar. Its roof was so low that most of the men and some of the taller women, like Annie, had to bend down a bit.

The cellar was musty, with that scent of damp, fresh earth that no airing could ever resolve. The air was thick and heavy, adding to the sense of confinement. Annie took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. The storm outside was fierce, but they were safe here, surrounded by the sturdy walls of the cellar.

“Get the blankets for the men, girl,” her grandmother told her.

“Yes, ma’am,” she readily agreed.

Jumping up, Annie remembered to hunch as she went to the pile of blankets the women had put into the cellar. As she handed out the blankets and towels and watched the women fuss over their men, she wondered if she would ever have something like that. Or were her dreams of a family shattered beyond retrieval?

Though people sympathized with her, she had become aware that the single men here no longer considered her a woman to marry. If a man who had professed to love her for five years could abandon her on their wedding day, something had to be wrong with her. Sometimes, she wondered the same thing.

Standing there under the eaves of the dark basement, she once again felt alone. Her gaze swept over the men and women who lived on the ranch, most of whom she had known all her life, and she felt like a stranger. Had her heartbreak so damaged her sense of self, of belonging?

“Show me the path You need me to take, Lord,” she whispered the prayer as she realized she was stuck in her life and unhappy with it. “I know I haven’t had faith in a while, but I need You, Lord. Life has not been what I expected of it.”

To distract herself from such depressing thoughts, she focused on helping the people who needed her—those in the cellar with her as the storm raged outside, as it had never done before in all the years.

It wasn’t until the next day that she saw the devastation the storm had wrought. The rains after the twister had passed lasted through the night, and they spent it in the cellar. An uncomfortable night, to be sure, but they had all been warm, and none had been lost. Something to be grateful for as reports came in from other ranches of the lives that had been lost.

The damage to their livestock was almost catastrophic. The main barn and the ranch house had lost their roofs, and most other structures would need to have their roofs patched. Yet they were among the more fortunate ranches and farms in the twister’s path.

Annie spent the morning organizing the women as they tried to salvage what they could from the houses. Some of the cottages on the ranch had flooded, others had been blown away, and yet others had simply collapsed.

“You best take the wagon and get into town to buy some supplies,” her father told her as the afternoon sun finally dried things enough for him to trust the roads.

He handed her a list and some of their precious money. After the disaster, the mercantile would prioritize those with ready money over those buying on credit notes and the like.

“Yes, Da,” she readily replied, taking both from him. Her tone was weary from all the work she had done, but she managed a smile, and her father gave her an approving nod.

The journey to town would help her sort out her emotions, and maybe she would find answers to what to do with her life. Surely, God did not intend for her to spend her life being bitter over her past. She had to find something to do aside from helping with the ranch.

As expected, when she got to the mercantile, there were many people. And as her father had reasoned, he prioritized those who had at least some money with them. She endured the glares of those who had been there before her as she made her way to the front.

Annie was surprised when she was able to get everything on her list. She imagined that with all the people who had been affected, there would be a short supply, even for those with the ready.

“That’s the lot, Miss Williams,” the young man who had loaded her wagon said as he put the last of her supplies in.

She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

With a touch to the brim of his hat, he turned to walk back into the shop. Annie looked down at the busier-than-usual street that comprised their town. Aside from the mercantile, there was an inn, a saloon, a dressmaker’s, a sheriff’s office, and a general goods store. At the far end of the street was a saloon atop which lived ladies of ill repute.

Annie had never been to that side of town and shivered at the thought of such women. What manner of ill fortune befell them that they would resort to such? She wondered.

As her gaze wandered over the usually dusty but now just muddy street, her gaze fell on the notice board beside the mercantile door. On it was the county’s paper posted for those who could not afford to buy it. Annie had never paid attention to it before, but for some reason, today, she did.

Taking a step closer, her eyes scanned the news there. Most were mundane, and some were about the state of the union, but that was of no matter to her. What caught her eye was the advert for a wife that seemed to be at the center of it all.

Wanted.

A widower, thirty-two, with two young children, desires correspondence with a young woman of good breeding between the ages of eighteen and twenty-eight with a view of matrimony. Intelligence and experience with running a ranch household are indispensable. Address with the editor.

Annie was shocked still as she read the advert again, realizing she was interested in it. Could she really be thinking about doing this? She had read about some women who had been disappointed with such dealings. Not all the men who applied for such were honorable. Yet it seemed the advert called to her.

“Lord, are You telling me to respond to him? Is this Your will?” she muttered as she read the advert again. She had never noted such adverts and had always thought the women who answered them quite desperate. Yet here she was, paying attention to this particular one.

She would be a mother, as she had always wanted, and maybe, as time went by, they would have more children. She could have it all, finally. And if he turned out to be from outside the county, all the better. She could escape the stigma that was now upon her.

As she looked around to see if anyone had noticed her stultification, her gaze fell on Andrew and his wife. As if by some macabre providence, his sight turned to her, and their eyes met for a moment before he ducked into the crowd, waiting to buy from the mercantile. Her resolve settled at that. She would never have to see him again, and maybe then, she could get over the embarrassment.

How had she ever loved a coward like him? With resolve, she approached the notice board and unpinned the part of the paper with the advert. She would answer it, she decided, and then she would never have to see Andrew and his wife again.