Prologue

Charleston, South Carolina

May 1, 1887

A shadow emerged from the trees.

Albert caught something in his peripheral vision. There was nothing there when he turned around.

He held the key and suddenly slapped his head with a smack. He had forgotten to lock up.

His mother used to warn him that if his head weren’t attached to his body, it would float away. He missed her terribly.

How did the years go by so quickly? He remembered her fondly.

The darkness penetrated. Animals scurried, scratching at the wood, scavenging for chuck.

The moon was full, peeking beyond the cover of the foreboding clouds. They were black and ominous, slowly converging until the first raindrops pattered on the dry ground for the first time in five days.

He lifted his head to the sky and smiled. The drought was finally over. No wonder his trick knee was acting up on him. It always did when it predicted rain.

The cool raindrops were a welcome relief.

The station was deserted, waiting patiently for the next train’s arrival in the early morning. The tracks gleamed with steel. It stretched for miles in either direction. If you could afford the small, insignificant pittance, the world was your oyster.

A harsh gust of wind came over the open area, fluttering leaves and making the sign creak over the station. The chains connecting the sign to the building had dulled over time, with flecks of rust courtesy of inclement weather.

The only sound was Albert whistling, accompanied by his heavy footsteps.

Albert Stanley was known to the locals. He would give the shirt off his back to help somebody in need. His generosity knew no bounds. People depended on him.

His heart had been broken beyond repair, but he persevered without complaining. Other than a few close friends, nobody knew his hardship.

He never wanted to talk about it. It was the most painful time in his life.

Nothing would bring her back.

He walked gingerly over the wooden planks. They groaned in protest under his large frame. The tune was something he had heard when he was a child. He just couldn’t get it out of his head.

No matter how hard he tried, it was still there.

It was a comfort he couldn’t quite explain, like a warm blanket on a cold night.

The late shifts took their toll.

He enjoyed talking to people. It was the highlight of his day. Everybody had a story to tell, and he was willing to listen.

His work was tedious, but it gave him a purpose.

He held the lantern chest-high, illuminating his handlebar mustache. He chewed on the ends nervously, well aware of the past vandalism. Break-ins were common. People were suffering and resorted to extreme measures to survive.

This included stealing whatever wasn’t nailed down.

He swallowed hard, blinking his eyes and staring at the door.

Something was off.

He couldn’t quite figure out what it was. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He scratched at it with the one hand not holding the lantern, accepting that it might be his overactive imagination running wild.

The set of keys jangled in his shaky hands. He didn’t know why, but he felt uncomfortable. A cold shiver ran down his spine. He continued to whistle that same tune over and over again.

The little details mattered.

He had placed a single strand of his long, stringy black hair on the door jam to warn him of potential threats. Everybody thought he was paranoid.

He checked and found the hair missing. The wind could’ve easily blown it away. That’s what he convinced himself—until he heard the unmistakable crooning of a cat.

No, that’s not a cat. What is that? he asked himself.

The whole thing was unnerving, and he didn’t have a weapon to defend himself. Albert was afraid this day would come sooner than later. The incidences of break-ins and vandalism were getting a little too close for comfort.

Is that a little nipper? he questioned with a shake of his head.

It didn’t make sense, but his ears had never deceived him. He became hyper-alert to any sudden noise. There was somebody inside the station.

“I don’t want any trouble. I have a gun, and I know how to use it,” he lied, licking his lips, his hand barely touching the door handle.

He pushed with his foot when he received no response. He kicked himself for not taking the shotgun, but he didn’t want to believe the town he loved so dearly had fallen on such hard times.

Some people even took steps to protect their valuables by barring their doors with whatever furniture they could find. It was a sad state of affairs.

Albert was sixty-five, but he refused to be afraid of his own shadow. He had to believe in the goodness of others. Most people were decent, God-fearing folk. Others would smile in front of you and have a blade ready to stab you in the back.

The rattle of a snake made him stop in his tracks.

Maybe that was what he heard. They tended to find a cool, damp place.

He opened the door slowly, shining the lantern’s light over the lone desk in the corner littered with papers.

He grabbed the broom by the front door with the wooden handle hard against the palm of his hand. He was prepared to take evasive action. Albert tugged on one of his suspenders.

A tiny mouse squealed in protest before taking refuge in a knot in the wall.

He smiled, realizing how much of a chucklehead he had been.

A bang from what constituted a closet for lost items and suitcases from the train got his undivided attention. It could’ve been something that fell over.

He opened the door, ready for anything, but what he found stunned him into silence.

A young woman, petite and curvy with blonde hair and tears streaming down her face, caught him by surprise. The little bundle clutched to her chest under her cardinal cried out.

It was a baby.

“I’m sorry. We didn’t have any place to go,” she said, her voice cracking barely above a whisper.

Albert took one look at her sorry shape, but it wasn’t the tears that warranted his concern. She was bleeding, with tiny droplets from her hairline staining the wood floor. One of the straps on her yellow dress was torn. The formation of a bruise on her shoulder looked like a hand.

Nobody had to paint him a picture.

“Are you okay?”

“No, no, I’m not. I have no idea what I will do, but I had to get away from him. My husband is going to be looking for me. I don’t want to be here when he does. You have no idea what I have been through,” she expressed through racking sobs of despair.

“You can’t stay here.”

“Please, don’t throw us out. I don’t have any money. No friends to speak of.”

“Geez, you are putting me in a terrible position,” he said, gripping the broom’s handle a little tighter.

“I’m begging you. “

The silence following her pleading was deafening.

Her hands clasped together, and those tears pulled on his heartstrings. This was a woman in distress, looking for a compassionate soul. He considered himself a moral man and an upstanding citizen.

“I suppose you can stay, but you must remain quiet. I don’t need the hassle of the local authorities. This place isn’t much. You’ll have to forgive the mess. I gave the maid the day off,” he laughed.

She picked herself up and offered her hand. “I’m Ella, and this little one is Donna. She’s a bit of a handful.”

“She’s adorable. What a little heartbreaker.”

Ella rubbed her shoulder and cringed, baring her teeth.

“You can stay as long as you want. I’ll return in the morning with some clothing and soft food for the little one. Let me take a look at that before I go. Did he hurt you?” He took a step and investigated the wound. “It stopped bleeding.”

“Yes, but it could have been worse,” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“I’m not sure how true that is. But you don’t have to tell me anything. “

“Can I borrow your broom?” she asked.

“Let me tidy things up. Two bits and a cup of coffee is all that I can offer.” He gestured for her to get out of the closet with her baby.

He quickly used the broom to clean the cobwebs and dust. He didn’t feel very good about leaving them, so the least he could do was make them comfortable.

It wasn’t long before he converted some cardboard boxes and leftover luggage into a makeshift bed. It wasn’t much, but he was relatively satisfied with the results.

“Don’t open the door for anybody. I’ll be back in the morning. Lock it behind me.”

“I don’t know how to thank you. We are very grateful for your kindness and understanding.” She rocked her baby in her arms.

“I wouldn’t be much of a man if I had turned you away. Everything will be fine. Three knocks, and it’s me. It will be our secret signal. Shh.” He placed his finger to his lips.

No good came from harboring the woman and her baby. He had to find some way to get her on one of the trains without being noticed. That didn’t seem likely with Gregory in charge. He was a stickler for the rules.

No sob story was going to change his mind. He couldn’t just stow her away.

Three days weighed heavily on his mind.

The sheriff had already been around making inquiries. He was a good man, but the law was pretty straightforward. Kidnapping was an ugly word. Albert professed to know nothing. The sheriff went on his merry way, mumbling something incoherent under his breath.

Albert had attended to Ella’s wound.

“This is too much.”

“Poppycock. My daughter would’ve been the first to help you. Losing her…” He stopped and placed his hand on the wall to balance him in his grief. “She was everything to me.”

“I can’t even imagine that kind of pain. A parent should never outlive their children. It hurts me to see you in such pain,” she said, running her fingers through her golden tresses.

The bandage covered the laceration.

“It’s my cross to bear. I wouldn’t trade my time with her for anything in the world. You have such kind eyes, just like hers. You don’t deserve any of this. I want you to take this.” He grabbed her hand and gave her ten dollars in silver coins. “The job is waiting for you when you get there. I’ve made all the arrangements.”

“Genoa, Nevada, is my mother’s hometown. The job sounds perfect. I’m already packed and ready to go. You’ve gone above and beyond to help us. You’re one of the good ones.” She crumpled the paper with an ad circled for a governess.

“You’re going to make me blush. Do me a favor.”

“Anything. Just name it.”

“Be careful what you tell people. Some may not be as understanding as I am. Come up with a plausible story. The one thing I know about you is that you are a survivor. Don’t forget why you’re doing this. That little girl deserves a future. You’re going to have to leave everything behind.” He hugged her, pressing her face to his chest.

“I don’t even want to think about where we would be without you. It’s a shuddering thought. Thank you for everything. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. You didn’t have to do any of this.” She fussed with Donna, letting her grab her finger with her little hand.

“That’s where you are wrong. I reckon you have been disappointed in the past. Everybody needs a friend. I would be honored to be this one’s surrogate grandfather. I don’t want to hear any more about it. Be true to yourself and your little girl. I’ll be praying for you.” Albert pushed her away gently with his two hands holding onto her shoulders.

She bowed her head and closed her eyes. “I won’t forget this.”

“Dagnabit, you’re making me cry.” He wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand.

“We better get going, or we will miss the last train.”

“I almost forgot. This was my wife’s. It’s yours if you want it. It will bring a little bit of color into your life.” He presented her with a meticulously crocheted green scarf.

“That’s one of my favorite colors. I will cherish it and never let it out of my sight.” She followed him to the door.

He looked both ways to make sure the coast was clear.

Albert didn’t know what would happen. He had given everything he could for this new chapter in her life. It was up to her to make the most of it.

He waited patiently for her to procure the tickets and get on board. There was no sign of the sheriff or his deputies.

It was time to let her go, but he couldn’t do that without one final glance. He watched the train chug out of the station, blowing its whistle.

He refused to take his eyes off the train until it rounded the bend and disappeared.

Chapter One

May 15, 1887

Genoa, Nevada

Daniel stood there in profile, holding her hair with an anti-golgin grin. The sting from the slap against her tender flesh paled in comparison to the look of utter disdain. The man couldn’t be reasoned with in this state.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t ask much.” He glared at her.

She was the recipient of his cruelty and harsh words.

“You’re overreacting,” she whimpered, trying desperately to free herself.

“Who are you to say that to me? I’m the one to put food on the table and a roof over our heads. I only ask for a little peace and quiet when I come home. Your yammering and the baby crying get on my last nerve.” He clutched her shoulder hard with the fingernails digging into the muscle.

“You’re hurting me,” she protested, one eye on Donna.

She was lying on the bed, screaming her head off with her arms and legs flailing.

“I don’t want to hurt you. Look at what you made me do. You have to be more careful,” he said, referring to the cold and unrelenting smack to the face.

“I’m sorry,” she pleaded, her eyes welling up.

“You’re sorry. That’s great. Do you think that makes it all right? I don’t know why I have to keep reminding you, but you don’t listen. Everything I say goes in one ear and out the other. Do you know how frustrating that is? Haven’t I been good to you? I’m asking you a question. I expect an answer,” Daniel railed, little bits of spittle flying from his mouth.

Daniel had massive shoulders, but his jaw wasn’t pronounced. He hovered over her petite frame by a few inches.

The cold blues burned through her with his hatred. His hair flew everywhere, and his mouth curled into a permanent sneer. The clean-shaven features did little to soften the hard, disturbing look. This was a man used to getting what he wanted.

His cheeks were inflamed, and his eyes narrowed with crinkles of skin next to his eyes. He was utterly furious. Nothing she said was going to make any difference.

He enjoyed seeing her squirm. It made him feel powerful to see her grovel.

“Yes… I’ve been very lucky,” she said, her voice cracking.

“I hear the words, but I don’t believe them. I work tirelessly while you stay home with the baby.”

She finally pulled free from his grip, losing a few hairs.

The baby continued to cry out.

“I can’t take it anymore. Do something about that,” he ordered, his fist balled up.

Self-preservation was one thing, but the baby was defenseless. She stepped in front of his fist, holding her shaky ground, protecting the child from his wax.

Daniel was out of control.

“Don’t take another step,” she said meekly with one hand outstretched.

He grabbed her by the wrist, knocking her off balance. Daniel approached the bed, seeing red.

“I won’t let you hurt her.”

He turned to see blood on her fingertips.

Ella snatched the baby from her resting place on the bed. Her arms shielded her, but he wouldn’t back down.

His hand came out of nowhere, arcing in the air…

Ella woke up with a start, almost dropping Donna off her lap.

She breathed heavily, her heart threatening to come out of her chest. Her skin stuck to the nightdress like glue.

That nightmare came back stronger than ever to warn her to keep moving and never look back. She could handle the abuse, but the last straw was the very idea of Donna getting caught up in the crossfire.

She would never forgive herself.

A decision had been made. She waited until he had fallen asleep after drinking to excess. His loud snores still echoed in her mind. The pain associated with one of his bursts of anger would fade over time.

Daniel always apologized in the morning.

Things would be better for a little while. It wouldn’t last very long before the verbal abuse would get physical. Her self-esteem made her think she deserved what she got. Her life was a never-ending fight for everything.

I lived in abject poverty in an orphanage with others. I didn’t have a normal childhood.

I never felt wanted and kept to myself most of the time. Books were my escape from the real world and the torture of bullying. I had a secret spot nobody knew about under the stairs in the crawl space. I could hide there for hours, reading by a small candle until I had to come out for food.

Donna was her one shining light. She wasn’t hers, but that didn’t mean she didn’t love her. Her devotion to Donna was unheralded. Nobody was going to take her away from her.

She needed to keep her safe. Donna was innocent. It wasn’t fair to put her through any of this. Daniel was a time bomb, ready to go off at the slightest provocation.

It was hard for her to admit it. Daniel was a danger to himself and others. His state of mind could be erratic.

Nothing ugly was ever going to touch her. That much she could promise.

Running was the only option. To keep her safe, Ella would do anything.

She looked around, pleased with her use of the space. Everything was organized. The meager belongings they had brought had been unpacked for the long and arduous journey.

The train rattled on along the tracks.

Her main concern was Donna.

Ella never associated with others.

Losing her parents had toughened her but also left her vulnerable.

My mother died in childbirth. I never knew my father. I’ve often thought about tracking him down, and I remind myself daily that he didn’t want me. I’m not going to stoop so low to knock on his door. If he doesn’t want me… then I don’t want anything to do with him. I’m better off on my own.

Daniel had taken advantage of her good nature. He made her believe in a future, a delusion that kept her going until his mood shifted.

“It’s just you and me against the world, little one. We will make it. I solemnly promise to give you the life you deserve.” She stared at the ad for the governess.

Albert had answered it by telegraph. The reply came promptly the next day. She continued to go over the notes. The story had become her own. Reinventing herself was a blessing and a curse. She could turn over a new leaf and start a new story for her and Donna.

Albert reminded her that it was all about the details.

The clothing was neatly folded. They had everything they needed for the trip.

Her fear manifested the nightmares.

“I lost my husband, and we were evicted. We were out on the street with no place to go. It was demoralizing, but I refused to give up. I’m a schoolteacher by trade. I know what it takes to teach the impressionable youth. It’s my passion,” she whispered, getting it down cold.

“Ten minutes to Genoa, Nevada. Ten minutes,” the man called out down the hall.

She had everything invested in making a life for herself in the town her mother called home.

The wooden cross around her neck made her feel closer to her mother.

Her faith had been tested many times. Church gave her a haven from her problems.

The small train compartment was spotless. She couldn’t stand disorganization, and it became an itch she couldn’t scratch when something was out of place.

Being organized was the only control she had in her chaotic life.

Nothing was going to be the same.

She had to put the past behind her. It was the only way she was going to move forward.

Daniel would always be there, casting a dark shadow. There was no escaping it. Pretending that he was dead gave her a semblance of calm she was going to hold onto. The reality terrified her.

She would always be paranoid, thinking he was right behind her.

If she continued repeating the story, it might feel real enough for her to believe it. Maybe.

The train slowed down with its momentum coming into the station. She was never going to forget Albert. He had done the impossible. It made her believe some people could be trusted.

Albert had given her a gift—the gift of friendship.

She gathered her belongings, leaving the compartment better than when she boarded. A deep breath steeled her resolve. Donna’s smiling face gave her the strength to take one step after another.

Ella joined the throngs of passengers with her baby in the crook of her arm. Struggling with her tattered brown suitcase winded her. She breathed fast, her lungs burning until she was on the platform.

She was ginnin’ about with no real direction.

Everybody else had a purpose and a direction.

Nobody was there to greet her. She was expected to make her way to the ranch on her own dime. It was a paltry sum, but she barely had two pennies to rub together. The cover of darkness had allowed her to raid the kitchen at night on the train. Money left over after expenses wasn’t very much.

There were several stagecoaches. Ella had a good feeling about people but had to look into their eyes. She walked among the mass of humanity, carefully scrutinizing each stagecoach driver. The greed was similar, but she targeted the one who was not a nuisance.

The old man wasn’t yelling. He seemed quite content sitting there cleaning his shotgun.

“Excuse me,” she called out, bouncing back and forth on her feet, happy Donna slept soundly in her arms.

“What can I do for you, little lady?” he asked, doffing his black cowboy hat and exposing curls of white that dangled over his eyes.