Chapter One
Last Chance, Nebraska- June 1895
Two more steps and the saddlebag would be within her reach.
Lara Cummings glanced toward the porch. The scrawny, squirrelly man with the derby hat and the mustache as narrow as a thistle stem, stood uncertainly halfway between his horse and the porch steps. He clutched a sheet of paper to his chest—and Laradesperatelywanted to know what was written upon it.
She took another step. The man’s horse shuffled, but made no noise. She halted for a moment, just in case the creature changed its mind.
Up on the porch, her sister Belle stood terrified while her cousin Josie, only three months away from giving birth, leveled a shotgun at the fellow with the paper.
“Now see here, Mrs. Thomas,” the man in the hat said. “I’ve only come to deliver this to your husband and your brother—”
“I own this ranch as much as they do,” Josie said in a clipped voice as one of her loyal dogs, Noel, sauntered out from the house to stand at her side.
“Yes, yes, ma’am. I’m certain you do. May I deliver this to you then?” He held out the paper like some sort of peace offering.
“I know what it is, and I don’t want it.”
The man gave a nervous chuckle. “I fear I never introduced myself. I’m James Snyder, of the Lincoln Bank. You may recall that your husband and brother took out a mortgage two years ago—”
“And I said, I don’t want it.” That shotgun held steady.
Lara drew her eyes back to the matter at hand—getting to that saddlebag. While Mr. Snyder tried—and continued to fail—to give Josie that sheet of paper, Lara took the last step toward the horse.
“Good girl,” she said under her breath as the mare dropped her mouth to nibble at the little bits of brown grass that remained amid the dusty dirt. Silently, looking quickly toward Mr. Snyder to ensure he was still engaged with Josie, Lara reached out and pulled a sheath of papers from the open saddlebag.
Holding them to her side, hidden amid her skirts, she carefully stepped away from the horse and took a wide berth back to the porch. She grabbed hold of one of the posts and pulled herself up onto the wooden slats just as Josie’s husband Arlen emerged from the house, his own shotgun at his side and the other two dogs, Holly and Shepherd, at his heels. The dogs were all white, just like their mama, Christmas, had been.
Lara clutched the papers behind her back as she slipped into place next to Belle.
“What did you do?” her younger sister hissed, not daring to take her eyes off the situation at hand.
And a situation it was too, now that Arlen raised his own shotgun.
“Not a thing,” Lara said, but she gestured toward her back.
“Lara!” Belle’s eyes were wide, and Lara shook her head in a silent message to her sister to keep this to herself.
“You have thirty seconds to see yourself back to that horse, Mr. Snyder, before I see fit to send these dogs here after you.” Arlen nodded toward the dogs.
Lara bit her lip to keep from laughing. Noel, Shep, and Holly would just as soon lick him to death than bite him, though they were big enough to look intimidating to anyone who didn’t know better.
Mr. Snyder’s gaze flicked to the dogs. “That’s not necessary, sir. I only want to—”
“One,” Josie said.
“Two.” Arlen reached down to pet Shep.
“I’ll just . . . I’ll leave this here then. You folks come see me in town. All right?” Mr. Snyder leaned down to drop the paper to the ground.
“Nine,” Arlen intoned.
Belle gripped Lara’s hand as Mr. Snyder scurried to his horse. He didn’t notice that the papers were gone from his saddlebag.
Arlen continued counting, but a small cloud of dust from near the front gate drew Lara’s attention away from the man scrambling to mount the impatient mare. The dust cleared some to reveal another man on horseback. Lara drew in a breath. Surely Mr. Snyder hadn’t brought along someone else.
But no. This man wasn’t dressed in the nice suit that Mr. Snyder wore. He had on a far more practical hat and wore clothes that didn’t mind the dirt. He sat at ease on his horse as he watched the proceedings in front of the house.
