CHAPTER 1
October, 1870
Canvas Creek, Montana Territory
Jess McPharland stood amidst the rows of dry goods filling the general store, eyeing the shelves stocked with sewing supplies. She’d already located the list of medicines she needed, along with food and a few other items. Now for fabric. She and her father both needed a few more winter clothes.
Father didn’t allow her to come to Canvas Creek often, mostly because he didn't want to be bothered with accompanying her. If only he would let her leave the area around their caves without chaperones—orguards, one might say. He said it was for protection, but she knew better.
Today, Father and Jedidiah had come with her.
She scanned the room until she found the small, wiry man standing near the far wall. Deep creases lined his weathered face, and his dark eyes missed nothing. Even though he watched from across the space, the weight of his gaze followedeverywhere she went. Always ready. That was why Father trusted him so much.
He ranked as second-in-command for all of Mick McPharland’s operations. If Father had any dirty business going on, Jedidiah could be found in the middle of it. And if there was honest work to be done, he might be found there too.
For now, though, she could pretend she was free. Free to shop and enjoy herself without worrying about what Jedidiah thought of her. Maybe she could even forget for a little while that she wasn't her own person.
She would always be Mick McPharland's daughter, and he'd never let her escape his control.
He didn't know about the baby yet. As far as she could tell, no one did. She’d known for a little more than two months now, and she had to get away before anyone found out.
She had to find a way to escape.
Freedom. From Father, from this place, from…from all of it.
A voice on the other side of a rack pulled her attention, and she strained to listen without turning.
Jedidiah would come over if he thought she was talking to someone.
“I saw you put that in your pocket.” The man’s words were firm but not angry.
She couldn’t see him or whoever he spoke to, but a young boy’s voice squeaked an answer. “I didn't.”
Did this man think the lad intended to steal?
Jess moved closer to the end of the shelf so she could step around if needed. If the man worked for the store, he might reprimand the lad, and who knew how far he’d take things. Maybe she could intervene before the punishment got out of hand.
“Are you sure?” The man's tone stayed calm. “I saw something go into your pocket. If it did, we need to take care of it right now.”
His tone never rose in anger, nor dipped into that steel-laced rage Father sometimes used.
Most men would have grabbed the boy and yelled or hit him.
Another pause stretched, then the boy mumbled, “I'll put it back.”
"That's not what I meant." The man sounded like he was trying to hold back a smile. "I want you to take it up to the counter and tell Mr. Smith what you were going to do with it. Then apologize and promise him you won't ever do it again."
This wasn’t the store owner. Did he work there? Whoever he was, he was a different sort of man than she was used to. Kind but firm, even in the face of poor behavior.
A rustling followed his words. "Here." The man’s voice held out the last word as if he were offering something.
Jess had to see who this stranger was. She peeked around the end of the shelf, but only saw the back of the man holding out a nickel.
The lad’s wide eyes stared at the coin. “You’re gonna buy it for me?”
The man nodded. “Only if you mean it when you tell the owner you’ll never steal again.”
Relief washed over the boy's face. “Yes, sir, I will.” He took the money and trotted to the front of the store.
