Chapter One
Near Crest Stone, Colorado- August 1876
The first sign of sabotage didn’t come until after Wade Pierce had sent off for a bride.
Of course, he didn’t think of it assabotageimmediately. In fact, he didn’t think he had anything on his hands but a run of bad luck—until just before the woman he’d made his foreman choose for him was schedule to arrive.
But as he stood looking at the cut and splintered fence rails, it was impossible to deny that the destruction had been done purposefully.
Lars Kristiansen, his foreman, dismounted his horse and joined Wade. “What do you think?”
Wade rubbed his chin, trying to figure out where to start—aside from casting all of his plans to the wind in order to follow the tracks that led away from the fence. What he’d give to stand face to face with the man who did this.
He wouldn’t think about doing it again, that was for certain.
“I’m thinking none of those other accidents were accidents,” he said, kicking a splintered rail off to the side.
Kristiansen frowned. “Had the same thoughts myself. It’s hard to know.”
Wade ran them through his mind again. Anyone could have left that gate open. They’d presumed the fire that consumed most of the remainder of the hay at the end of winter had started from one of the hands being careless with a cigar. And it wouldn’t have been the first time bandits had roamed the valley, although branding irons were an odd item to steal.
Had he brushed off far too many incidents as coincidences?
“It’s nigh on ten o’clock,” Kristiansen said, closing his pocketwatch. “She’ll be waiting on you if you don’t leave now.”
Wade groaned quietly. Why had he ever thought that marrying was a good idea? He ought to have just hired a housekeeper and cook instead of worrying about frittering away money.
“It can’t be all that bad.” Kristiansen didn’t bother hiding a grin. “Having a pretty, sweet girl around to cook and talk with and—”
“You want to marry her?” Wade interjected before his foreman could continue getting all poetic about wedded life.
Kristiansen laughed. “No, sir. I don’t think Vi would take too kindly to that.”
The man was lucky to see his girl once every other month, when he paid a visit up to Cañon City for supplies. It was a wonder she hadn’t given up on him, but Wade didn’t presume to understand women or their motivations.
Including the one he was about to marry.
“What would possess a lady to come clear across the country to join up with a man she’s never met?” he pondered out loud and not for the first time.
Kristiansen gave him a hard look. “You trying to back out of this?”
Was he? Wade sighed inwardly. “No, I suppose not.” The ranch sorely needed a woman around to handle the cooking. His home looked as if no one had lived in it for months. And if he met a bad end, he needed a son to take it over, else it would wind up in the hands of his useless brother—if anyone could find him.
“Then you best get moving. I’ll send a few men out here to get this fixed.” Kristiansen gave him a grin. “Promise I picked you a pretty one.”
“I know.” He’d seen the photograph she’d sent, although he hadn’t done much but give it a cursory nod before Kristiansen had taken it upon himself to pen a letter to her on Wade’s behalf.
And as he drove the wagon toward Crest Stone on the road that ran alongside the railroad tracks, Wade didn’t know which sat more uneasy on his mind—the woman arriving on the train or the efforts it appeared someone was making to drive him out of business. Dwelling on the former felt more terrifying, so he thought through the latter.
Had there been someone he’d angered in some way? A former ranch hand, maybe? Wade searched his memories, but couldn’t think of anyone to whom he’d been less than polite.
Could it be a coincidence? Perhaps someone simply out to cause trouble that had nothing to do with earlier incidents? Maybe those were accidents after all, as he’d originally assumed.
The thoughts consumed his mind, distracting him from what lay ahead in Crest Stone. It wasn’t until the train passed beside him that he realized precisely how late he was. The last of the cars faded from view, and Wade eased the horses back onto the road.
“Hurry along,” he said as he moved them into a faster clip.
Perhaps the woman would grow tired of waiting on him and reboard the train.
