Prologue

Winter 1882

Clancy, Montana

Hunter was exhausted. He would rather be at home, cuddled up in bed with his wife while their daughter slept in her crib in the corner. Instead, he had to come into town to look into an act of vandalism. According to the lad who worked for the owner at the dry goods store, he had to come immediately. Something about how important it was.

Hunter had no idea what James Matterson was doing. Why couldn’t he wait until the morning? It was a surprise that he was conscious enough to report any vandalism; Matterson liked to go to the saloon as soon as he closed the store and drink himself under the table.

Maybe he was planning on being sober tonight. Or the crime had sobered him up. Hunter didn’t know, but he would give Matterson a telling off for disturbing him in the middle of the night.

Clara hadn’t wanted him to go, but Hunter couldn’t ignore this. He was the sheriff, after all. And it wouldn’t take long. He’d get to town, make a quick report, and then get home to fall asleep with his wife in his arms. Zoe would sleep through the whole thing; she was such a good baby when it came to that. They had been very lucky.

Hunter didn’t think he could get any luckier. He had a beautiful, loving wife and a gorgeous little girl. He would do anything for them. It was remarkable that only a few years ago, he said he wouldn’t be able to find anyone who could make him this happy. Then he met Clara, and Hunter knew he was gone.

And the night would’ve been perfect if he hadn’t had to go out. At least he knew his wife and daughter would be there when he returned. He liked the thought of that.

Getting into town didn’t take long, and Hunter slowed his horse to a walk as he made his way to the dry goods store. Lanterns lined the street, illuminating the sidewalks, and lights glowed from the saloon and the restaurant. People having a late dinner were still in the restaurant, and the saloon was in full flow. Hunter was sure half the men in town were in there getting drunk and causing a ruckus. The saloon owner was good at keeping them in line, so it was not usually an issue.

He passed both and reached the dry goods store, but as he slowed his horse, Hunter realized something. A lantern directly outside the store lit up the front window. There was no indication that someone had vandalized the place. It looked immaculate.

Hunter was confused. Hadn’t Matterson’s lad, young Rafe, said that people had thrown rocks at the windows? He wouldn’t get that wrong.

Dismounting, Hunter approached the store and looked through the windows. He couldn’t see anything except his own reflection. Nothing in the window was out of place. Then he tried the door. It was locked. He made his way to the alley between the store and the dressmaker’s next door, heading to the side and back doors. Both were also locked.

What was going on? Nothing indicated that the place had been broken into.

What was Rafe up to? He wasn’t the type of boy to play a practical joke on the sheriff. He was an easily led child, but he wouldn’t do that. Hunter decided to look for him in the morning to find out what he was planning. Rafe wouldn’t be doing that again.

Going back to his horse, Hunter caught sight of the saloon. There was a lot of shouting and laughter coming from there. Chances were Matterson was in there. If Hunter could find him, he might be able to sort things out for now. Matterson wouldn’t be too impressed by his lad doing something stupid.

Walking his horse across the street, Hunter tied his horse to the post outside and wandered in. The noise hit him like a wall, and his nostrils smelled the alcohol floating in the air. It was so loud he almost clamped his hands over his ears. Men were at the tables, varying between playing cards quietly or raucous shouting, mostly at the ladies dancing on the stage. Someone was playing the piano, but it was barely audible over the noise.

Clive Alderson was behind the counter, wiping it down with a cloth. He looked surprised as Hunter approached.

“Sheriff.” He gave Hunter a nod. “I wasn’t expecting you in tonight. We’re not causing a disturbance, are we? Or has Mrs. Haggardy complained again?”

“No, nothing like that. And I think Mrs. Haggardy’s moved in with her daughter on the other side of town.”

Clive grunted.

“She’s such a busybody. I can’t help that my saloon is close to her home and my customers get loud.”

“And you like antagonizing her.”

“That as well.” Clive leaned on the counter. “What brings you in here? I thought you’d be home at the time like this.”

“Is James Matterson in here, Clive?” Hunter looked around the room, but there were too many people. “I had Rafe come to me and say there was something wrong with the store.”

“Oh, really?” Clive raised his eyebrows. “I would’ve thought Matterson would know about it if he sent for you. He likes to know what’s going on all the time.”

“Oh, I know about that. He’s always wanting to know the ins and outs of his business.” Hunter’s head was hurting from the noise. “Is he here?”

“Actually, no. He’s not anywhere to be found. I thought he was sleeping at the store and having a night off, but that’s not like him at all.” Clive pointed at the table nearest the window. “Even if he were exhausted, he’d come in here, drink, and pass out at that table. He’s been like that ever since I’ve known him.”

That was something about Matterson. He was a creature of habit. Hunter could set a clock by the man on what he did. Which was why this was even stranger than normal.

Something shifted in his gut, and Hunter’s concern turned to worry. He remembered something as he left the house: When he’d ridden away, he felt as if someone was watching the house. But when he’d looked around, there was no sign of anything. It was pitch black, but there were no moving shadows.

And yet…

Had someone been there watching the house? Had this been a ruse to get him out?

“Sheriff?” Clive peered at him. “Are you all right? You’ve gone pale.”

“I… I need to get back home.”

“Do you need someone to come with you?”

“No, I… I’ll be fine.”

Hunter stumbled out of the saloon, his heart racing as he made his way to his horse. He needed to get back home as fast as he could. He couldn’t wait around.

“Hunter?”

He spun around, fumbling with the reins still tied to the post. Cora Westbrook, his mother-in-law, hurried toward him, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders. She looked like she’d been about to retire for the night, her hair loose from its usual bun.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, regarding him with a frown. “Has something happened to Clara and Zoe?”

“I don’t know yet.” Hunter hesitated. “Could you come back to the house with me, Cora? I’m hoping that I’m only paranoid and nothing’s happened, but…”

“Of course. You don’t need to ask.” Cora nodded. “What’s going on?”

“I hope nothing. But my gut is telling me I need to get back home.” Hunter beckoned her over. “I’ll help you up.”

Clara’s mother allowed him to hoist her into the saddle, and then he swung up behind her. If nothing were wrong and his wife and daughter were safe and well, Clara could spend the night with them and return in the morning. And Hunter wanted someone with him to make sure he didn’t feel like he was going mad.

He wanted his gut to be wrong about something being amiss.

They rode back out of town and toward Hunter’s home, which was nestled on the slope among the trees. It was an ideal spot, quiet and just in reach of town. The views were spectacular, and it was nicely isolated, where they wouldn’t be disturbed.

But that was the problem.

It felt like forever before they got back to the house, and as they rode up the path, the house coming into sight, Hunter saw a group of riders riding away. They looked like they were in a hurry. He couldn’t get a proper count, but he was sure there were at least half a dozen of them.

Had they just tried to rob the house? Had they succeeded?

Oh, God, what about Clara and Zoe?

Then he heard a cry—a baby’s cry, one of distress. And then he heard Clara.

“Let me go to her! She’ll calm down if she’s with me!”

“Shut up!”

Hunter’s blood went cold. The robbers had his wife and daughter.

Cora whimpered. “Oh, no.”

“I’ll get them back,” Hunter whispered. “Would you get off here, Cora?”

His mother-in-law didn’t complain, slipping down from the saddle and hurrying over to a nearby tree, huddling by the trunk. Hunter withdrew his gun, taking a deep breath to still his racing heart. He needed to stop them, but he couldn’t hit his family. He’d never forgive himself.

Hurrying his horse up the path, he aimed high and fired. The gunshot echoed around the woods, making his ears ring. Clara screamed, and then he heard someone shouting.

“Let’s get out of here! Get rid of them!”

Hunter’s heart almost stopped when he saw one rider shove something off the saddle with him, and it hit a tree before dropping to the ground. And another rider threw a small bundle, which disappeared from sight.

Oh, no. Not this.

Panic setting in, Hunter charged forward, getting to where he thought he saw his daughter being thrown. Getting off his horse, he stumbled around, wishing there was enough light, but he didn’t reach for his lantern. He had to find his daughter.

“Clara! Zoe! Talk to me!”

Nothing. Hunter felt cold. This couldn’t be happening. They couldn’t…

“Hunter!” Cora ran up, her hair flowing behind her. “Where are they? What happened?”

“They threw them.”

“What?” Her hands went to her mouth. “They threw them off the horses?”

“Find Clara. I need to get my daughter.”

Thankfully, his mother-in-law didn’t argue. She just hurried back to the horse and took the lantern, which shook in her hand as she moved in the other direction, calling for her daughter.

Hunter went back to searching for his daughter. She was only a month old. And with how cold it was that night, she wouldn’t survive for long. If she survived the fall at all. Hunter didn’t want to think about how he could be looking for a body.

Then he heard a cry, one that sent relief flooding through his body. Hurrying forward, he felt ahead of him, stumbling through the undergrowth. Then he came upon Zoe. She was still in her blanket, lying on her front in a pile of moss. Her legs and head were moving, and she sounded muffled.

Hurrying forward, Hunter picked her up, turning her around and cradling her against his shoulder.

“I’m here, honey,” he whispered, his hands shaking as he tried to check her over for any injuries. “I’ve got you. I’m here now.” He kissed her head. “You’re going to be all right, little girl. You’ll be all right.”

They needed to get her to a doctor as soon as possible. Doctor Petrie would have to be sent for, and Hunter didn’t think he could wait around for him to come up to them. He would have to rush to his surgery.

Once he found Clara. He recalled one of the riders pushing something off and hitting a tree. Was that…?

“Hunter?”

Scared of what he would see, Hunter picked his way through the bushes and found Cora. She was kneeling beside her daughter, tears falling down her face as she touched Clara’s cheek. There was blood coming from a wound on Clara’s head, and her eyes were open, staring unseeing at a spot over Hunter’s shoulder. She wasn’t moving.

Hunter’s whole body went cold, and he almost dropped Zoe. Clutching her tighter, he eased himself forward, looking at his wife’s body. She didn’t move, her eyes didn’t blink.

They would never blink again.

“She’s dead,” Cora whispered, looking up at him. “She… They…”

Zoe’s crying got louder. Hunter felt frozen. He didn’t know what to do now. All he could do was stare at his wife’s body, his daughter screaming.

What was he supposed to do?

“I’ll go back and get Doctor Petrie.” Cora got to her feet, looking a little unsteady. “He needs to come up immediately. I’ll notify the deputies as well.”

“No, I’ll do it.”

“Hunter, your wife’s dead.”

“She’s your daughter,” Hunter pointed out. “You should stay with her and Zoe while I get Doctor Petrie.”

But his mother-in-law gave him a sad smile and shook her head.

“I think you need to be here more than I do. I’ll come back, I promise.” Her gaze drifted to Zoe, and more tears fell. “Just protect your daughter. She needs you now.”

Hunter looked down at Zoe, who was wriggling and stretching as if she wanted to get away. Her face was red, her eyes screwed up, and her bottom lip trembling as she cried. He knew he couldn’t give her to someone else right now.

“All right,” he said gruffly. “But don’t be long.”

“I won’t.” Cora kissed Zoe’s head and touched his arm. “Go back to the house. Zoe is the priority right now. Clara would’ve wanted it.”

Hunter didn’t answer. He just nodded, staring down at his wife. She still hadn’t moved. He had wanted to believe it was a hideous dream, and yet…

She really was gone. She wasn’t coming back.

And Hunter had never felt so alone.

Chapter One

Spring 1886

Helena, Montana

Grace had never been so worn out. Staring at pages and pages of paper was enough for her head to spin, and she was relieved that it was over. This needed to be done, although it was a task Grace didn’t like. She could do sums, but there was a limit.

“That’s the last of them,” Sarah said, putting her sheaf of papers down. “And it looks all in order.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Grace declared, yawning loudly and stretching her arms above her head. “It’s been a good month. I’m glad things are going well.”

“You’ve got such a good head for business, Grace Anderson. I must admit that I was worried when your parents died, and you took over. I thought you’d crack under the pressure.”

Grace snorted.

“Why would you think that I would crack? It’s not happened before. I can look after a farm.”

“I know, but you had your parents around all the time. You don’t have them to turn to for advice.” Sarah sighed, giving her friend an affectionate look. “I always knew you were tough, but you’re tougher than even I anticipated.”

Grace grinned. Sarah Charles had known her since they were barely walking, so she knew Grace better than anyone else. And it was natural to have her friend at her side as they went through the accounts together. Especially when Sarah was better at sums than Grace. She was very intelligent. Her husband said that she was wasted as Helena’s schoolteacher, and Grace agreed. She needed something to make her brain work to the best of its ability.

And being an accountant certainly worked.

“I’m so glad that this is working.” She stood and went to the coffee pot, pouring out another mug of coffee. It was still nice and warm. “I was so scared when I inherited this place. I thought I would embarrass my parents from beyond the grave.”

Sarah laughed.

“You wouldn’t have done that. They trusted you enough that you didn’t need to worry about their misplaced faith. They knew you’d be good to run this farm.”

Grace was glad about that. She was still getting over the fact that it had been only three months since her parents had died, their cart overturning on a corner and killing both of them. They had left her the farm, no stipulations or anything to keep it. She owned it outright. That was unheard of nowadays, and Grace was still wondering if it was a dream. Normally, a business would be passed to the next male relative if the owner didn’t have any sons, but the only male cousin she had in her life had been disowned years ago, and he wasn’t going to get anything.

It was all Grace’s. And she loved it, even if she would rather have her parents than the farm.

“Your parents are going to be proud of you, Grace,” Sarah went on. “You know just what’s needed to make this place thrive. Everyone knows it.”

“I hope so. I know they look at me differently because I’m now the owner. It’s a strange sensation that I’m going to be treated differently.”

“You’ll get used to it. You’re tougher than you think.”

Grace grunted, sipping her coffee. The liquid slid down her throat, soothing her. She always needed a cup of coffee to make herself feel better. It was always much needed after a long day on the farm. She enjoyed the job, and it was worthwhile, but it was also hard. There were so many things to do, from feeding and caring for the animals to plowing the fields, sowing the seeds, and making sure the crops grew.

The vegetables also needed tending, and that was before she turned her attention to the house itself. Sarah came in every other day to help with the house, but Grace would have to find an alternative; she’d had a housekeeper, Mrs. Bowles, but she retired shortly before her parents died and moved to live with her son in Wyoming.

Maybe they could get a new housekeeper. That would be so much easier, and Grace knew she could afford it. Then she wouldn’t feel guilty getting her friend to help her when she should be on a social visit.

“Have you heard from Travis?” Sarah asked, giving her a look over the rim of her cup.

“Travis?”

“You know, Travis? Your cousin?”

Grace frowned.

“I know who you’re talking about, and I haven’t heard from him. I try to keep him at arm’s length as much as possible. And you know why.”

“I was just wondering.” Sarah sipped her coffee before cupping her hands around the mug. “I’m sure he’s going to be angry when he finds out he was left nothing in your father’s will. He is the nearest male relative, after all.”

“Not after what he did. Father was furious when he kept stealing things from the house and selling them on or keeping them for himself.” Grace sighed. “He had wanted to help out with Aunt Lizzy because she was alone after Uncle Roderick passed away so soon after the birth, but Travis was just ungrateful.”

“Do you see him now and then?”

“No, he’s off doing something right now. I’m sure he’s fallen in with a bad crowd and is doing what he does best, which is stealing.”

“He must’ve done something better with his life.”

“I very much doubt it. He’s one of those people who won’t float far away from what he did as a child.”

Grace recalled Travis clearly. The last time she saw him, she’d been sixteen years old. Travis had come by, yet again, trying to get his uncle to take him in for a few days. But George Anderson had told him that he could get lost and consider himself estranged. They were not going to look after him. Grace had a feeling Travis had been in a spot of trouble, and it was confirmed when the people looking for him came by and almost turned the place upside down in their search.

She would rather not have the mess that came with her cousin. If he found out about her parents’ dying, that was it. He couldn’t expect anything from them.

A loud bang made them both jump. Grace frowned. Was that one of the laborers? They didn’t normally go to the front door; they just came in around the back to get hold of her.

“I’ll be right back.”

Putting the mug down, she headed toward the hall. The banging got louder and more insistent, making Grace’s head hurt. She put her hands over her ears.

“All right, I’m coming! Calm down!”

She barely got the door open when it was pushed at, nearly knocking her back, and a large, broad-shouldered man with a thick beard and thick, unruly dark hair entered the house. Grace caught herself before she ended up on the floor, staring at the man who’d just stormed in and pushed her aside.

“Excuse me, sir? What do you think—”

“What do you think you’re playing at, Grace?”

Grace blinked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that your parents were dead?” He swung around on her, fury blazing in his eyes. “You should’ve said something about that. Even Mother didn’t know!”

It took a moment for Grace to realize who was standing in front of her. She hadn’t seen him in nine years, and he looked so different. She stared.

“Travis?”

“Who else do you think it is?” Travis snapped. “Why didn’t you tell Mother about her brother-in-law’s passing away? We would’ve turned up at the funeral.”

Grace sighed and dusted herself down.

“Mother and Father fell out with Aunt Lizzy some years ago. She kept defending you and tried to get Father to forgive you for stealing from him, but Father said no. They hadn’t spoken in four years.”

Travis scoffed.

“He should’ve forgiven me years ago. We are family.”

“Family doesn’t steal from others. Is that why you’re here, Travis?” Grace folded her arms. “Why are you here? I’ve got a lot of things to do, and the farm isn’t going to run itself.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Travis puffed out his chest and gave her a smirk.

“Once I’ve taken over, you don’t have to concern yourself with the running of the farm.”

Grace’s jaw dropped open.

“You… But you were disowned! I’ve already had the will reading, and you’re not in it at all. You can’t inherit the farm.”

“I can when I marry you.”

Grace thought she’d misheard him. She couldn’t believe he’d just said something like that. What was going through his head?

“What—you-you think you’re going to marry me?”

“Why not? You’re the heir, and if I marry you, then I can take over.” Travis gestured at her. “No one can expect a woman to be in charge of such a big place. It’s too much for you.”

“It’s perfectly fine for me,” Grace said, bristling at his words. “And Father wanted you to have nothing to do with the ranch.”

Travis snorted.

“You think he’s going to stop me now. I just need to marry you—”

“I don’t even like you! You’d be fighting a losing battle.”

“Oh, I’m very persuasive, Grace.” He looked proud of himself for that. “And I know just how to get someone on my side.”

Grace doubted it. Travis was a cruel man. He’d been like that since he was a child. At only three years old, he’d terrorized her, calling her names and pulling her hair. It had been a relief when he left to go back to his mother’s home. Grace understood that he had struggled without a father, but the way he treated his family was abhorrent. Grace wasn’t about to go anywhere near that.

“You can’t marry me!” she protested.

“Oh? And why not? We’re cousins…”

“That’s part of the reason!” Grace cried. “We’re cousins! I’m not about to marry someone so closely related to me. I don’t even like you!”

“You don’t need to like me.” He stepped toward her, his eyes glittering. “I don’t want anything from you except this place. And I’m sure we’ll get permission for the marriage.”

“Plus, I’m already married!”

The words were blurted out before Grace realized what she was saying. Travis blinked, clearly bewildered by this response.

“You… You’re married?”

“Yes.” Growing bolder, Grace straightened. “I’m already married, and I have no interest in getting married to someone else. That is just not proper. Even if I weren’t married, I’d still refuse to marry you.”

She had no idea where this confidence was coming from. She felt lightheaded, and she wondered if she was going to pass out. She felt sick as well. Travis stared at her in shock.

“But… How can you be married? You didn’t invite Mother to the wedding. Nor myself, if it comes to that!”

Grace snorted.

“Why would I want to get married with people I don’t like in attendance? It’s about a day of celebration, and I wouldn’t do that with you two.”

“How can you be so horrible about Mother? She was good to you!”

“Not when she was constantly defending your actions when you’re a crook. As for you, why would I invite someone who bullied me to my wedding? I’m not that stupid.”

Travis looked her up and down. Grace felt like she was being checked over like a prime piece of meat. She wanted him to leave.

“I see,” he said slowly. “If you are married, where’s your husband?”

“He’s away on business.”

“Business?”

“Yes, on business.” Grace put her hands behind her back, trying to conceal her sweaty palms. “He’ll be back in two weeks. He’s got to deal with a few things.”

She hoped that he believed her. Grace was never a good liar, and she felt as if her heart might explode. She stared back at her cousin, hoping that he took the bait. Finally, he nodded once.

“All right. I’ll speak with your husband, then. When he returns.”

“What?”

“I’ll be back in two weeks, and then your husband and I will have a few words. We’re not going to mess up my plan because you’re married.” His eyes glinted. “Perhaps I can get him to back off.”

Grace tried not to panic. Travis was too close to her, and he could likely smell the lie coming off her. She forced herself to look him in the eye, wishing that he would move away. Finally, he stepped around her, leaving the house and slamming the door behind him. The sound made Grace flinch.

What had she done?

“Grace?”

Sarah appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. She looked nervous.

Grace swallowed hard. “What am I going to do now?”

“Why did you say you were married to him? I understand you were trying to tell him no, but surely…”

“Do you think Travis is going to listen when I say no to him?” Grace said grimly, wiping her damp palms on her skirts. Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would burst out of her chest. “Even if I said no every time, he would just ignore it. He’d get me married to him somehow.”

Sarah looked horrified at that.

“He can’t do that, can he?” she gasped.

“Oh, he’ll manage it somehow. He’ll make sure I have no choice but to marry him.”

“You mean… He could spread rumors about you and ruin your reputation?” Sarah’s face paled. “Or he might just…”

“I don’t want to think about it. It’s too horrible to contemplate how far he’ll go to get his grubby hands on this place. And you know how gossip will go around, even if the rumor is false.” Grace shuddered. “I had to do something. It was the only way to get him to back off, even if it’s temporary.”

“But what are you going to do now?” Sarah demanded. “You can’t produce a husband because you haven’t got one! And what if Travis starts talking to people in town about your husband and nobody knows what you’re talking about?”

“I’m a private person, so that won’t surprise anyone in Helena that I got married without anyone knowing about it. As for the husband part…”

Sarah put her hands on her hips.

“You’re going to have to find someone willing to pose as your husband. And if I’m honest, I can’t think of anyone who could pull it off for you.”

Grace hated to admit it, but Sarah was right. There were some eligible men in Helena, but they were not suitable for her. Grace didn’t even like half of them. None of them could help her.

But there had to be a way. She would do anything to make Travis leave her alone. Even make up a husband if it meant he kept his distance.

She wasn’t about to let the alternative happen.