Chapter One
Texas, 1899
“Come on,” Ellie whispered to herself as another shiver ran through her too thin frame. How much weight had she lost since Brent and his friends had taken her from California? At least ten pounds, surely. “Just a little longer.”
The woods were vast, dark and covered in pine trees, underbrush, and a thick layer of pine needles and leaves from the other trees she couldn’t identify. She had no idea where she was going, but at least, she wasn’t bound by ropes anymore. Her wrists smarted, the angry red wounds on them shiny from the raw skin, but they weren’t as bad as they could be. Still, the pain persisted, likely would for some time, and she had bruises of Brent’s rough handling. Yet she couldn’t exactly expect a kidnapper to be gentle.
If she could make it to the train station, any train station, she could find some way to gain passage…but where would she go? She had no family left, no friends, and no one she knew whose families would allow her to live with them due to hergrandfather’s influence in Cartwright, California, even in death. His cronies, his business partners, they all viewed her as no more worthy of decency than Grandfather ever had.
“Eleanor,” Grandfather beckoned as she stood trembling in the door of his massive study. His study was nearly three times as large as the linen closet he’d turned into her bedroom, the one she’d shared with Mama before she’d passed. “Come in here, please.”
Drapery hung over the large, floor-to-ceiling windows, the dark magenta and gold accents giving the place a regal feel. The furniture was all some kind of dark wood, and the wood floors matched the furniture. Paintings and portraits hung on the wall, but none of them included her or her mother, of course. No, they were of Grandfather and snapshots in time of his accomplishments.
She’d been summoned, a surprise as Archibald Cartright mostly chose to ignore her presence in his life and in his home - at least until it was time to trot her out for some sort of ball or dinner. “Yes, Grandfather.” She hated the way her voice trembled, but her grandfather’s cruelty knew no limits, especially when it came to her. She curled her fingers into her hands, willing them to stop shaking, but the action only served to push her fingernails into the palms of her hands so hard she knew they would leave marks.
Grandfather’s eyes and skin had taken on a grayish hue, and his last heart episode had left him with little energy despite seeing the best physicians money could buy in California. If he’d been up to the trip, he’d have gone back East to seek treatment, but moving from his chair to the door of his study proved taxing these days. His breath sounded wet when he did nothing more than sit and eat, and his appetite had started to wane as well. If she weren’t so terrified of what would happen to her after his death, she’d welcome the event.
Miss Lutken might tell her it wasn’t very Christian to wish for someone’s death, but what if the person was as cruel as Grandfather? He’d treated her horribly her whole life, and he’d not even allowed her to finish her biblical studies after she graduated regular school with Miss Lutken at sixteen. As much as she hated to think about the one thing which had brought her peace, he’d also stolen her art from her.
“I have news for you,” he said by way of greeting. There was no warmth, no evidence of happiness his only surviving grandchild had entered the room. His eyes swept past her, and she turned to see his business partner, Percival James, shadowing the door behind her.
As always, Percival wore the finest suits, possibly even more expensive than Grandfather’s. He was little more than Grandfather’s lackey, but to hear him speak out of her grandfather’s presence would convince a man he had as much pull in the company. He was also a solid twenty years younger than Grandfather, still in his late forties or early fifties with a heavily padded middle and generally red face.
Percival stepped inside at the crook of Grandfather’s finger, his rakish gaze upon Ellie once again making her skin crawl, but she ignored it as she focused on Grandfather as he spoke. “My doctors tell me I’m not long for this world.”
Whatever feelings Ellie thought might surface at the news her grandfather’s health had continued to decline, it was pure apathy mixed with the fear of the inevitability of her fate. Would she be turned out on the street? Could she at least convince him to pay passage for her back East where there was a higher concentration of people and perhaps some city job she could find? It was a mining town, with saloons and brothels abundant, but Ellie would rather die than end up in that situation.
Grandfather paused, his eyes narrowing as though he could tell her mind wasn’t fully focused on him and hanging on his every word. To his employees and the rest of the city, he probably looked like the doting grandfather as he’d taken in his wayward daughter and her illegitimate child to save them from starvation and exposure to the elements ten years before, but Ellie knew the truth.
He’d stuck them in a linen closet and only allowed them to eat with the servants in the kitchen. The two of them had worked their fingers to the bone as unpaid labor in his house, save for the times he’d bring them out for gatherings and parties with his other wealthy friends. Her calloused hands and strong back were evidence of the type of work she often did, so he’d force her to wear gloves to cover them. He’d begrudgingly allowed a tutor to be brought in for Ellie, Miss Lutken, but she’d been finished with her school for over a year now.
“It’s convenient, really,” Grandfather said as he leaned back in his chair and took a deep, wet breath. “At least, I held on until you turned eighteen.” He held up an envelope. “This is a copy of my will and the trust I’ve set up for you to access upon my demise.” He spoke with no emotion, as though he spoke of the weather and not his own death.
Ellie’s eyes widened. He’d actually left her money? Why in the world would he do that? “A…a trust, sir?” In all the scenarios she’d imagined might happen after he passed, she’d never dreamed he’d leave her a dime. Hope started to bloom in her chest, but it wasn’t long-lived.
“An account with your name on it,” he spat as though she hadn’t known what the word meant. “Not that you’ll be able to access the funds anytime soon. I’ve placed some stipulations to unlock the funds in the paperwork, but you can find them yourself.” He tossed the envelope on the floor, his chuckle as cruel as his eyes as he narrowed them at her. “Go ahead, takethem. I’ve got copies.” He and Percival laughed as Ellie stepped forward to retrieve the envelope. “You’re dismissed.”
Ellie shuddered at the memory, the way he’d always call her Eleanor and insist she introduce herself as such. Mama had been the one to call her Ellie, the only person in her life to ever show her any warmth or love other than her tutor, Miss Lutken, until she was turned out when Ellie finished school. When Mama had died after Ellie’s twelfth birthday, it had only been Miss Lutken left, and four years later she’d been sent away as well once Ellie finished her schooling.
Jarred back into the present by the trickling of a stream before her, Ellie knelt to take a drink. The water was cold, ice cold, but at least, the day would warm up as the sun rose. Hopefully, it wouldn’t make her sick. She had no way to boil it, and dying of lack of water after escaping Brent’s capture would defeat the entire purpose. She couldn’t quite tell due to the dense tree cover, but at least, there was more light than when she’d left camp.
It would’ve been nice to have some thicker clothes, but perhaps the sunshine would warm the woods a little. It wasn’t nearly as cold as it had been a few of the nights, and for that, she was grateful. How she’d not frozen to death was a bit of a miracle. She’d barely slept between worrying what Brent might do to her if she slept unawares and the sheer discomfort of the cold.
Brent had been gone all night which wasn’t unusual. Where he went, she had no idea, but he always came back smelling of liquor and perfume. It had to mean there was a town nearby, a town where she might find a woman who could help her. Could she possibly find work cleaning a boarding house or in the kitchen of a restaurant? Or perhaps helping a mother with childcare? At least until she could earn enough money to find a larger city?
“You there,” a deep voice from behind startled her so much she fell backwards onto her backside. Thankfully, the ground beneath her was dry as she scrambled to her feet. A stranger with a broader build than Brent and navy blue eyes sat atop a horse, his face full of concern Ellie didn’t even begin to trust. “Are you lost?” He looked sure of himself up there. Another version of Ellie might’ve been tempted to trust him enough to ask for help, but it simply wasn’t possible.
The man didn’t dismount, something which brought Ellie at least a modicum of comfort. “N…no, I know where I’m going, and I’m armed.” The lies tasted bitter on her tongue. She’d learned never to trust a man - even a seemingly innocent one - and she wasn’t about to start now.
The man sighed, as though he knew good and well of her falsehoods. “Well, I’m Micah Sutton. My family’s ranch is that way, and we’ll be happy to help you if anything changes. Do you have any food?”
Her stomach, devoid of food for nearly two days now, gnawed on itself. It wasn’t audible, but the feel of her bones protruding without her normal layer of healthy fat was probably obvious. Her slightly more curvy natural frame had always bothered Grandfather, and he’d told the cooks to limit food for her more than once in an attempt to give her the waifish figure he said men preferred on women. Why he cared, she didn’t know, as he’d not accepted the suit of any young men who’d asked to court her. She’d only been of age for a little while, and he was sick for most of it. A bitter amusement rose in her at the idea he might finally be satisfied with her figure.
It wasn’t her low weight which had Ellie infuriatingly self-conscious as she locked eyes with the handsome cowboy. It was also the knowledge her curly blonde hair was caked and matted, her clothes were torn and nearly threadbare from the time onthe trail, and she sported an entire layer of dirt and mud where her normally fair skin ought to be.
“I’m fine.” The words were clipped, and her body rebelled at that particular lie with as much energy as it could, her stomach growling in betrayal. Would she starve to death out here before she made it into town? Would she faint from hunger and a predator come by and eat her?
The man, Micah he’d said, sighed again. “Let me at least give you some food. I won’t even dismount Finn if it’ll make you more comfortable.”
