The Savior of the Cattle-Baron’s Daughter (Preview Page)

Chapter One

Jackdaw Holler, Montana, 1881

“There you are, Rose. Come on in. We need to talk.”

Was there ever a more stomach-dropping sentence? Rose swallowed thickly, clutching the basket of laundry to her chest. She had tried her best to sneak along the long hallway which ran the length of the house. The front door was at one end, the back door at the other, and the staircase somewhere in the middle – just past the door to her father’s study, as a matter of fact. No matter how quietly she tried to tiptoe along, he always heard her.

“Just… Just a moment, Pa. Let me put this away,” she managed faintly.

Her father’s gaze dropped to the laundry, and he scowled.

“Why in heaven’s name are you lugging laundry all over the house, girl? How’s it going to look if Garrett Montgomery’s daughter is seen doing her own chores? We’ve got plenty of hired help for that. Where’s that ugly little redhead girl? Get her to do it,” he snapped.

Rose’s grip tightened on the basket. “Pa, you know Anita’s leg is bad. The stairs—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he barked. “You told me, when I hired that cripple, that she’d be able to do her work. Do I need to let her go?”

Rose swallowed. “No, Pa.”

“That’s what I thought. Set down that laundry and come in here.”

He didn’t wait for a response or agreement. Turning on his heel, he stomped back inside his study and waited for Rose to follow.

She obediently set down the laundry, smoothed out her apron, and stepped inside.

The study was the largest room in the house, bigger even than the kitchen. It was decorated with heavy, dark wooden furniture, with matching paneling on the walls, and an ugly gray wallpaper he’d had brought all the way from New York. The price would make anyone’s eyes water, but Garrett Montgomery had plenty of cattle money. He could have wallpapered the entire town five times over in New York paper, and had money left over.

Rose had free rein to decorate the rest of the house the way she wanted. Within reason, of course, and assuming Pa agreed with her choices. The Montgomery ranch house was by far the biggest one in town, with three stories and a huge cellar, to say nothing of all the extra little outbuildings and tacked-on structures. The place was so big that Rose felt lost in it a hundred times a day.

The study was the one room she wasn’t ever allowed into, not without express permission. Anita was meant to dust and clean it out once a month, with her Pa’s say-so, but lately Rose had taken to doing that cleaning herself. Anita wasn’t clumsy, exactly, but if she broke one of Pa’s endless, delicate little knick-knacks… well. There’d be trouble, for sure.

The room was dominated by a huge, polished mahogany desk, with a high-backed leather chair set behind it. There was no seat placed in front of the desk. When people came to Pa’s study, he liked to keep them standing in front of his desk, like supplicants.

He didn’t offer Rose a seat.

“I’ve got good news, honey,” Pa said, smiling. “You’re going to get married.”

Rose missed a beat, sure that she’d misheard.

“What did you say, Pa?” she managed carefully, at last.

Pa didn’t bristle at being asked to repeat himself. He only gave a good-natured little chuckle, shaking his head.

“I’ve got you a fine husband. It’s high time you were married, and I’ve got just the man.”

Rose swallowed thickly. She knotted her hands in front of herself without thinking, then forced herself to put them behind her back. She’d been helping Anita scrub the kitchen floor this morning, and her hands were red and dry. If Pa noticed, he’d fly into a rage. He might even beat Anita again, calling her a lazy good-for-nothing. That was the reason Rose helped out with the chores in the first place.

“Who is it, Pa?” Rose managed at last.

He allowed himself a self-satisfied smile, leaning back in his chair. He took his time answering, and Rose was left with nothing to do but stare at her father.

They didn’t resemble each other much. He was tall and slim, to be sure, and his now-gray hair was said to be as black as Rose’s when he was young, but that was where the similarities ended. Pa’s features were sharp, like they’d been etched from flint, and he had gray eyes that seemed almost colorless in certain lights.

Rose knew that she looked like her mother. There was a photograph of the late Mrs. Montgomery hanging in pride of place in the parlor, all cool good looks and dark, upswept hair that seemed to gleam even in the photograph. Her eyes had no color in the photograph, of course, but Rose knew that they were green, just like hers. An unusual color, and much complimented on.

“Vincent Westbrook,” he said abruptly, making Rose flinch. It took her a moment to understand the significance of the name. When she did, her eyes widened.

“You can’t be serious, Pa,” she stuttered, before she could think of something more sensible to say.

He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t seem happy. Vincent is, what, thirty? He’s only nine years older than you. I was only nine years older than your mama, remember. He’s a good-looking man, and him and his family are rich. Or so I’ve heard, at least. I might not know the boy personally, but I know his father, and I’ve heard good things.
You’ll be set up for life.”

“He’s a monster,” Rose breathed, feeling her knees wobble a little. “Pa, he beat a man to death in the middle of the street in broad daylight, and his father paid off the sheriff to make sure he didn’t go to jail! People talk about him in whispers, because nobody dares say a word against him. I can’t marry him. I won’t marry him!”

Pa rose to his feet, resting his fingertips on the desk.

“I understand that this is a bit of a shock for you,” he said carefully. “We hadn’t talked much about you getting married. I imagine you hadn’t thought about marriage since all that business with the other boy – which I don’t regret putting an end to, by the way.”

Rose bit down hard on her cheek, and forced herself to stay silent.

“I know you don’t know Vincent,” he continued. “You’ve never met him. It’s understandable that you’ll be a little apprehensive. To be sure, it’ll take time to get to know him. These things can’t be rushed, and I understand that. But let me tell you this – we need the Westbrooks. An alliance between them and us would just about let us run the whole of the county and beyond. A marriage between you and Vincent has been on my mind for a while. Besides,” he added, with just a hint of accusation in his voice, “it’s high time you did something for the family. Maybe get me a grandson or two. Three or four would be ideal, since these times are pretty uncertain and kids, as we all know, are a little fragile. Yes, I’d like a grandson. Somebody to leave this place to.”

Rose swallowed thickly again. Her father’s cold gray gaze bored into her. She was on thin ice, she knew that. She was taking a risk. She ought to nod and smile and say nothing and figure a way out of it later on.

Except that there wouldn’t be a later on. There never was not when Garrett Montgomery had anything to say about it.

“I’m sorry, Pa,” Rose managed at last. “I can’t marry Vincent Westbrook.”

There was a brief, painful silence.

“Can’t? Can’t?” he echoed. In a flash, he had brought down his closed fist onto the desk with a resounding bang.

“You don’t say can’t to me, girl! You don’t get to say yes or no. You just do, you got it? For twenty-one years, you’ve been a millstone around my neck. I needed a boy, and instead I got you. And now, for the first time, you get the chance to pay me back some of what you owe me, and do your duty as a daughter, and you say you can’t? Oh, I don’t think so, girl.”

Rose’s hands were shaking. She didn’t dare twist them together, or ball them up in the fabric of her apron. Pa tended to notice things like that. It was never good to let him know when you were afraid, or when you felt weak or ill at ease. He always found a way to use it.

He pointed one stiff finger at her, and Rose fought not to shrink back.

“You’re marrying Vincent Westbrook,” he continued, voice dropping to a menacing growl. “It’s all arranged. It’s decided, and that’s that. I won’t be changing my mind. He’s coming from Dakota, and he’ll be here in a couple of weeks. You can drag your heels if you want, and kick up a fuss, maybe even make yourself look un-pretty when he gets here. But that’ll do you no good, you hear? Do you hear me, Rose?”

She flinched as his voice rose, echoing around the room.

“I hear,” Rose responded quietly.

Words were piling up in her mind, angry, venomous sentences queueing up on her tongue. She longed to say them, to say everything she was thinking of.

She bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted copper, keeping the words back.

Everybody knew that Jackdaw Holler was colloquially called ‘Montgomery’s Town’.

Everybody knew what happened when you ran your mouth. Smart mouths tended to get closed for good. Nosy deputies or sheriffs who didn’t understand the way of things often just disappeared. There were deep rivers and canyons in this part of the world. Lots of places for somebody to get lost in.

When a man like Garrett Montgomery became a little king in his own right, the power could go to his head. Family relations tended to get a little watery when a man was used to having absolute power.

Rose didn’t hold his gaze. It did no good to get into a staring contest. She’d only lose.

“Yes, Pa,” she said quietly. “Sorry.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Sorry, sir.”

He grunted, flopping back in his seat. “That’s better. Like I said, it’s all arranged, and I don’t want to hear any whining about it. Now get out of here. And if you see Sanderson on the way, tell him to come up, I want to talk to him.”

Rose nodded, not daring to risk another word. She turned and left, closing the door quietly behind her. She didn’t break into a run immediately – he’d hear the thump of her footsteps down the hall – but walked to the back door.

It was warm outside. Too warm, really, the sun beating relentlessly down on the hard-packed earth of the courtyard.

She spotted a tall, broad-shouldered man standing by the far fence, staring out at nothing.
“Sanderson!” she called.

He turned, hurrying towards her. Sanderson was generally ignored by the local women, on account of being handsome but entirely too serious. And, of course, he worked for Garrett Montgomery, which meant that people avoided him out of principle. It was safer.

“Miss Rose?” he asked, lifting sandy brown eyebrows.

“Where’s Anita?”

“Over in the chicken coop, I think.”

“Thank you. Oh, and Pa’s asking for you.”

Sanderson was too clever to wince or betray any sign that he wasn’t thrilled at this news. His face remained neutral, although Rose noticed a slight tightening around his mouth.

“Thanks for telling me, Miss Rose. Anything else?”

She shook her head. “No, thank you.”

They went their separate ways, with Sanderson loping towards the house and Rose hurrying across the courtyard towards the chicken coop.

As she got closer, she could hear the familiar lilt of Anita’s voice. She swore up and down that singing to the chickens made them lay better. Rose was starting to think that there was something in it.

Anita glanced up as Rose ducked through the low doorway.

“Careful, Rose. Mr. Montgomery hates to see you doing chores, you know that. Especially things like mucking out the chicken coop.”

Rose couldn’t bring herself to smile.

She and Anita Lazlo had been friends since childhood. Her father was a ranch hand on the Montgomery ranch, and with her little brother’s asthma, the cost of the medicine was all but ruining them.

Rose had suggested Anita be taken on as a maid. At the time, she’d been so sure that she was doing Anita a favor. Now, it was clear that she’d only put her in more danger than ever.

Anita straightened up with a wince and moved towards Rose. Her left leg dragged a little, a habitual limp she’d had since she was a toddler.

“Rose?” Anita ventured, frowning. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”

Rose swallowed thickly, knotting her hands together. She longed to bite at her nails, or pick at the skin around her nail beds, but her father hated the habit. He’d fly into a rage if he caught Rose biting her nails or suspected that she had been doing it. She forced her hands apart.

“Pa wants me to marry Vincent Westbrook,” she burst out in a tense whisper.

Anita’s eyes widened. “Not the Dakota Westbrooks? Rose, they’re even more vicious than your f—” she cut herself off abruptly. “They’re dangerous,” she finished at last, voice tense. “You can’t marry him.”

Rose raked a hand through her hair. “I know, I know! But I don’t know what to do. Pa told me I’ll marry him or else. It’s not as if I can reason with him.”

Anita was silent for a moment, chewing her lower lip. Rose knew, better than anyone, how clever Anita could be. She was smart. She remembered everything and could plan ahead like nobody’s business. She was cleverer than just about all the men Rose had ever met.

If only she wasn’t a girl. Nobody listened to a girl. Hadn’t Pa always said that, generally interrupting whatever Rose was saying? She’d long since given up on making suggestions or even asking to be included with whatever was going on at the ranch. At best, Pa would tease her. At worst, he’d go into one of his rages, and it was wise to steer clear of him during times like that.

Garrett Montgomery was an unpredictable man. Everybody knew that. This was what made him so terrifying – you never knew what he’d do next, but you knew it wasn’t going to be good, that you’d regret it if you crossed him, and sooner rather than later.

Even his own daughter isn’t safe, Rose thought bitterly.

“We’ll come up with something,” Anita said at last, reaching out and taking her hand. “I’m not going to let this happen to you.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Rose whispered. Her hands were shaking. Cold, too. She wore thin lace gloves, a present from Pa. The gloves were pretty, but entirely impractical. They were a little itchy, too. But Pa liked to see her wearing them. Anita squeezed both of her hands, pulling her friend close in a tight hug.

“I know. But you’re not alone,” Anita murmured. The girls sagged against each other, foreheads resting together. “I’m going to get you out of this. I promise.”

“I don’t know how. I can’t marry him.”

“And you won’t.”

“Nobody can go up against Pa.”

“You listen to me, Rose Montgomery,” Anita hissed, suddenly furious. “It may be close to blasphemy in Jackdaw Holler to say this, but Garrett Montgomery is not God. He is all not all-powerful. And he is not as a big a man as he thinks he is.”

Rose swallowed, closing her eyes.

“I wish I could believe that, Anita. I really, really do.”

Chapter Two

Willis Ridge, Dakota Territory

The train had run late. Ethan wasn’t particularly surprised to see nobody waiting for him at the station platform, considering that he was at least half a day later than he’d said he would be. Trains were unpredictable and travel was dangerous, and yet everybody still expected travelers to wind up exactly where they said they’d be, exactly when they’d said.

Not the best start I could have hoped for, he thought wistfully. I hope he hasn’t gone ahead and assumed that I’m not coming.

It was a hot and sticky day and sweat pricked under his collar as he stepped onto the platform. Trains were famously uncomfortable – unless you could afford first class, which he could not – and despite the unforgiving wooden seats and the constant nauseating rocking, there had been some benefits. For example, there’d been a delicious rush of cool air from the open windows inside the cars, and the worst of the sun was kept off the passengers.

I barely got here, and already I’m missing the train, he mused.

Scarcely anybody stepped off at the Willis Ridge station. The train didn’t wait long, either. As Ethan left the platform behind, he could hear the locomotive start to puff and hum, getting ready to chug away again across the barren landscape. Apparently, the engineer didn’t want to waste any more time than he absolutely had to here.
Ethan hadn’t brought much luggage – he had long since learned the importance of traveling light – so he was able to sling his rucksack over his shoulder and consider how to get from the station to the main part of town.

“You must be Ethan Harper, then.”

He flinched at the voice and turned around to find a stocky man in his fifties, lounging in a strip of shade by the side of the station house. His horse grazed nearby. The man didn’t seem to be suffering in the heat like Ethan was. Perhaps he was more used to it. Lucky devil.

“I’m Harper,” Ethan responded carefully. “And you are?”

The man got to his feet, stretched, and swaggered over.

He had a round, good-natured sort of face, with graying hair and an impressive, silvery moustache. He lifted a hand, tapping the well-polished brass badge on his chest.

Ethan relaxed a little. “Sheriff Wilson. Good to meet you.”

“Good to meet you too, son.”

They shook hands, and Wilson gestured to where his horse cropped grass nearby. Ethan noticed a second horse beside it. Nothing fancy, but a decent creature all the same. It would be a nice change, riding on a horse instead of being rattled mercilessly in that tin box of a train.

“I took the liberty of bringing you something to ride,” the sheriff said. “It’s a long way to town, but I reckon you and I have got a good deal to talk about. We hardly got into it in our letters. I’m not much of a letter-writer, and I guess you aren’t, either. I prefer to talk things through face-to-face. There’s less chance of miscommunications, you know. Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but honestly, I don’t think so. I’m glad you’re here. We’ve got a lot to discuss. A lot.”

Ethan breathed in, steeling himself. He’d been planning for this conversation since he got on the train. He’d thought over the things he wanted to say, questions he wanted to ask, and possible responses the sheriff might make. It was important that this went well.

It’s my last chance.

“I was surprised to get your letter, really,” Ethan responded at last. It wasn’t how he’d intended his welcoming speech to go, but then perhaps the train’s rattling had knocked it out of his head. “People go missing all the time in this country. Pretty young women, too. It’s a sad fact, but there it is. Why does a man like you, all the way out west, care so much about my missing sister?”

Sheriff Wilson took a moment to respond, eyeing him thoughtfully.

What does he see when he looks at me?

The Harper boys – and the only Harper girl – were all famously good looking. Tall, well-built, and cheerful, they had thick brown hair and rich chocolate-colored eyes. At twenty-eight, Ethan was the only one of his brothers not married. The three of them had all married pretty, lovely girls. Even Frederick, who was only twenty. They were all settled. Happy. Busy making their families proud, busy making a life for themselves.

All except Ethan. How could he? He couldn’t understand how they could. How could they be so happy when they didn’t know where Hannah was? They didn’t know what had happened to her, or even if she was alive. How could anybody relax when that was going on?

Some nights, Ethan stayed up all night, tugging at his hair and going crazy with the wondering. He had to know. He had to.

He was aware that his clothes were dirty and dusty from his trip, hair disheveled, windswept, and he was in need of a good bath and a good shave. Even so, Ethan squared his shoulders and looked the sheriff right in the eye.

Do it for Hannah. If this man doesn’t help you, you might never find her again. You’ll never know what happened to her. The best lead you’ve ever gotten will disappear—just like that. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life.

“You’re a cynical man,” the sheriff said at last. “Of course I care about all those missing folks, although of course I don’t have the opportunity to save them all. The reason I can help you, though, is because a woman matching your sister’s age and description has come up in connection with a man that I’d very much like to see behind bars. I’ve been trying to catch him for a while, but he’s too clever; and I’m not much of a schemer. Better men than me have tried to take him down, but maybe luck will be on my side this time. My mama always said I was lucky. Let’s see if it holds, shall we?”

Ethan swallowed tightly. “And is she… is she alive? Has she been hurt?”

“Last I heard, she was working for this man. I couldn’t say what’s happened to her now, but it’s a start. I didn’t hear that she was hurt; but that doesn’t mean she’s safe, not by any stretch of the imagination,” he paused, eyeing him narrowly. “Of course, I daresay you’ll know that already. We can’t assume a thing in this untrustworthy old world.”

Ethan’s heart was hammering in his chest. Was he really this close?

“I see,” he murmured, trying to control himself. Excitement, fear, and hope were all bubbling up inside him, making his empty stomach turn on itself and threaten to make him sick. He’d gotten his hopes up too often in the past few months to let it happen again. It hurt too much. “Tell me where to go, and I’ll go there.”

“Now hold your horses, boy, hold your horses. Do you even know which man I’m talking about? This dangerous man?”
Ethan bit back his frustration.

We’re wasting time.

“Tell me, sheriff.”

Wilson eyed him for a moment. “Last I heard,” he said carefully, “she was working for Garrett Montgomery. He’s a cattle baron, stinking rich, and he’s got just about the whole county under his thumb.

“Now, there’s a new sheriff in his town who might help us, but it’s just as likely that the man will succumb to bribes or be found dead in the river. We have to assume we’re on our own. And as for getting your sister, you won’t get within a mile of her, I can promise you that.”

Ethan clenched his jaw. Excitement and worry were bubbling up inside him now.

I can do it. I can save her.

“I take it you have a plan,” he managed.

The sheriff grinned. He turned and began walking over to the horses, gesturing for him to follow.

“Me and my deputies have been investigating the Montgomery crime family for a while,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “There’s a similar family here in Dakota – the Westbrooks. Now, this isn’t common knowledge, so I’m trusting you here, but I can tell you that Westbrooks are about to get broken up. We even managed to take and flip one of their family members, a man who spilled the beans. We learned a lot from him. He was meant to travel to Montana and meet up with the family. They’ve never met him. They don’t know what he looks like.”

Understanding dawned, and Ethan drew in a breath. “You want me to impersonate him.”

The sheriff nodded. “You’re about the right age, and nobody in these parts will recognize you. None of my deputies could do it, and the Montgomery reach is so powerful I wouldn’t trust anyone in this state. But you… you’ve got a reason to take Montgomery down, just like I do.”

Ethan glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Sheriff Wilson had mentioned a reason to hate Mr. Montgomery. Something about his son, although he wouldn’t elaborate.

“Here’s your ticket,” Wilson continued, as if sensing that Ethan was about to ask questions. “You leave in two days. And bring your charm—you’re going to need it. If you help me out, I’ll help you get your sister back.”
“I can use this time to find her, right?” Ethan asked, taking the ticket and squinting down at it. “I can ask about?”

“You can, but make no mistake: you’re in big trouble. Don’t let them catch you. I won’t be close enough to help much, not at first, and if they get you… well. I won’t find your body.”

He swallowed. “If I can’t save Hannah, we won’t find her body, either.”

The sheriff nodded. “As long as you know the risks.”

Ethan did. He’d thought about them, over and over again. His search for his sister had led him to the darkest corners of the country, to filthy saloons and to seedy bars, little no-name towns where the only law was bullet, fist, or sheer force of will. Places he was glad to get out of and prayed he’d never have to return.

He’d left each place equal parts relieved that his sister wasn’t holed up in such an awful corner, and heartbroken that he hadn’t found her.

His heart pounded. He was closer than ever this time, though. Closer than ever.

“This man,” he said, glancing down again at the ticket. “What’s his name, and what is his business in Montgomery territory?”

Sheriff Wilson winced. “Ah, that’s where it gets tricky. A bit more explanation is required, and I’ll tell you the story on the way back to town. I’ll start with his name – it’s Vincent Westbrook.”

Chapter Three

Four Days Later

He was here. Not that Rose had seen him, of course.

Her father had gone with a group of his men, along with Sanderson, to meet the man at the train station. From there, it was anybody’s guess where they’d taken him. Probably to a local diner, or else to the ranch office.

He’d been in town for close to two days now, and already there was a lot of talk. Everybody knew why he was here. A few brave souls had congratulated Rose on her engagement. That made a change, as generally folks ignored her when they were out and about. It was probably easier to ignore her than it was to worry about saying something that would be relayed back to Garrett Montgomery.

Apparently, nobody thought it important that this Vincent Westbrook should meet the woman he was going to marry.

Not until tonight, of course. Garrett had invited Vincent to their house for a meal, along with Sanderson and a few important ranch workers. Generally, when Garrett invited his friends to supper, he only ever gave Rose a few hours’ notice, if he gave any at all.

Tonight had to be perfect, however, so Rose was given a full day to prepare a menu.

Anita was meant to be doing all the chores, cooking, and serving, but of course Rose had helped. They were serving a pea soup for starters, with a beef roast for the main, along with vegetables, gravy, cornbread, and a few other sides Anita had prepared. There would be blueberry pie and fresh cream for dessert.

The dining room was all prepared. Yes, the Montgomery house had a dining room, a proper one. Most families ate in the kitchen, at the kitchen table, but not here. The room was narrow and a little dark, no matter how many candles were placed to light it up.

A low fire burned in the hearth, not quite cutting through the chill of the seldom-used room. The table was laid for six, the places all set out with fine china that was never used for anything but the most important guests. Rose stood in the doorway, eyes peeled for anything amiss.

Details were important. Her father noticed details.

“Do you know if they’ll be here soon, Rose?” Anita called from the kitchen. “The pea soup is ready. I don’t want it to go cold.”

Rose clenched her jaw. “They’ll get here when they get here, Anita, you know that. I don’t control what time he gets here, any more than you do.” She paused, smoothing down the front of her dress – a fine silk one, a bright canary-yellow color which Rose didn’t particularly like, but it didn’t matter, because her father had bought the fabric for her, chosen the cut, and instructed her to wear it tonight. It was too tight around the bodice, cutting into her waist, but if she complained, Garrett would only scold her for getting plump.

‘Nobody wants a fat wife, my girl. Or a fat daughter.’

No blueberry pie for Rose tonight, then.

“Don’t forget, Anita,” she said, hating herself as she said it, “you’ll have to call me ‘Miss Montgomery’ while they’re here. And serve the way Pa told you, from the left only.”

Anita was quiet for a moment before responding.

“Of course,” she said at last. “Thank you for the reminder.”

Rose swallowed, closing her eyes. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking, offering Anita a place here. At the time, it had been perfect, a way for her friend to escape the town and earn some money of her own.

Already, though, Anita’s wages were being docked to replace something she’d broken, and one or two things Garrett had accused her of breaking. At this rate, Anita would end up owing them money.

And, of course, their friendship would soon begin to suffer. It was inevitable, really, what with Anita having to call her old friend ‘Miss Montgomery.’

The front door slammed, and Rose flinched. She locked eyes with Anita, who was setting out wine glasses at the table.

“Better go greet them,” Anita whispered.

Rose nodded. “You’re… you’re right.”

This was it, then. She was going to meet the man Pa meant her to marry.

Of course, Rose did not intend to marry him. Soon, she and Anita would put their plan into action, whisking the two of them to safety.

Just as soon as they could figure out what the plan was. It was hard to have a plan with no money, no prospects, and nobody to help you. Rose had never even been outside of Jackdaw Holler. So far, the only plan they had was to buy themselves a pair of train tickets and run. Anita had an aunt who lived across the country, and she had written to her to ask for money.

It’s not clever enough to fool Papa. He won’t just let me go, oh no. He’ll come after me. And what if he forces me to get married before we can escape?

That thought made Rose shiver. Once she was Vincent Westbrook’s wife, he would have the legal right to hunt her down wherever she went and bring her back. She’d be trapped. Forever.

No, I won’t let it happen.

A hand on Rose’s elbow made her jump. She glanced down at Anita.

“I got a telegram back from Aunt Mildred this afternoon,” Anita whispered. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you, what with all the hired girls around to help with the cooking and cleaning. But she says she’ll send the money. Two tickets to Nebraska.”

“Nebraska? That’s not far away enough,” Rose whispered back. “And you can’t tell me this now! What if Pa overhears?”

“I know, but I have a plan,” Anita responded, glancing uncertainly towards the doorway. “Aunt Mildred is going to meet us in Nebraska, at the train station. If they follow us, they’ll lose us here. Then the three of us will travel onwards to Aunt Mildred’s home. My father doesn’t know where she lives; they don’t speak. So, they can’t follow us there.”

Rose swallowed slowly, hope jumping in her chest. For the first time since all of this had happened, it seemed like they really might get away.

“That’s wonderful news,” she murmured. “Can we leave tomorrow? Tonight, even?”

Anita shifted uneasily. “That’s the difficult part. She’ll have to send us money for tickets. It’ll take close to ten days for that to happen.”

Rose’s heart plummeted into her stomach. “Ten days? Anything could happen in ten days! I could be married in ten days.”

“I know, I know,” Anita sighed. “If you have any better ideas, I’d like to hear them.”

Rose was silent. Of course she didn’t have any better ideas.

“I had to tell you this now, before you meet him,” Anita continued, “because we’re going to have to keep our heads down. If Mr. Montgomery thinks that you’re planning something, he’ll make the wedding happen earlier. If he thinks you’re going to just do as you’re told, he might relax a little. He’ll take his time planning it out. Time that we desperately need.”

Rose moved to rake a hand through her hair, remembering with chagrin that her hair was done up in a complex knot at the back of her head, and if she touched it too much it might unravel.

“Okay,” she breathed. “I’ll be friendly. Nice, Quiet. Above suspicion.”

Anita nodded eagerly. “Ten days. You can wait for ten days, Rose. You can.”

She laid a hand on Anita’s shoulder. The left one, not the right one. Garrett had shoved Anita over when she’d spilled a drop of coffee, and she’d knocked her shoulder against the wall, hard. Rose knew that it was bruised and painfully swollen.

“We’re going to get out of here,” she whispered. “Both of us, Anita. Whoever this awful man is, I’ll be nice to him for our sake.”

Anita nodded, forcing a smile. “I know it, Rose. Now quick, go meet them at the door. It sounds like Mr. Montgomery’s in a good mood. We don’t want to waste that.”

Smoothing down her gown one more time, and drawing in a deep, fortifying breath, Rose headed down the hallway. There was a large, square foyer where people could take off their coats and hats. The low rumble of men talking and laughing reached her ears. Garrett was laughing the loudest, slapping the shoulder of a young man.

They all turned to look at Rose as soon as she arrived. Swallowing her fear, Rose bowed her head.

“Welcome to our home, gentlemen. Can I fetch you some drinks?”

Her gaze wandered straight to the youngest gentleman there. She guessed that he was in his late twenties somewhere, tall and broad-shouldered with a deep chest and a straight, determined sort of posture. He had brown hair that glittered gold in the candlelight, and eyes that she was pretty sure were green. Unusual.

He was handsome, too. She hadn’t expected him to be handsome. She’d imagined that he would be like the seemingly endless leering ranch hands that her father employed, with their pimply, sun-reddened skin and greasy hair.

This man wore a well-brushed brown suit, with equally well-brushed hair, and he was clean shaved. He took a step towards her, offering a hand, and she noticed with relief that his nails were clean.

“Pleased to meet you, miss. I’m Vincent Westbrook. You must be Miss Rose Montgomery,” he said, voice deep. There was a drawl to his voice that didn’t seem like Dakota to Rose, but then, she’d never been there.

“I am,” she responded, taking his hand. He didn’t squeeze it or shake it, just sort of held it and made a neat little half bow. Flushing, Rose whisked her hand away. The other men chuckled knowingly.

“What fine manners he has,” Garrett said, sounding almost admiring. “I asked him about that accent, and Vincent here told me that he’d gone to a school out of state to get the best education. I admire that. A man’s greatest asset is his sons, and so he ought to take care of them.”

Vincent nodded. “Children are certainly a gift, sir.”

Garrett sighed. “I didn’t say children, Vincent. I said sons. Well boys, let’s go on in and get seated. Supper will be ready soon, Rose, won’t it?”

“Of course, Pa.”

“Good. We’ll take our seats, and you can help Mr. Westbrook here with his coat.”

It wasn’t a suggestion, but a command, so Rose only nodded and stood aside, letting the other men saunter past.

That left her alone in the foyer with Vincent Westbrook. She stepped forward, keeping a faintly welcoming smile on her face, and held out her hand to help him out of his coat.

“No need,” Vincent responded, shrugging his way out of his coat and hanging it up on the peg. “I can take care of myself, Miss Montgomery.”

“I’m sure you can,” Rose responded, before she could think better of it.

Vincent lifted his eyebrows. “If I didn’t know better, Miss Montgomery, I’d say you didn’t like me.”

Panic flooded through her.

I can’t lose already! He has to think I like him. That’s the plan.

She tilted up her chin, keeping a now-steely smile on her face.

“Why, Mr. Westbrook, that’s a most hurtful thing to say.”

He chuckled. “I get the impression you’re not a woman with a thin skin.”

She bridled at that, narrowing her eyes. “What’s that meant to mean?”

He shrugged. “Only that you’re cleverer than your Pa gives you credit for. I reckon you see a lot of the things that go on around here, huh?”

She stared at him for a long moment. What was his game? What was he trying to find out?

Careful, she warned herself. I bet he’ll go right around and tell Pa everything I tell him. This man is on my father’s side, make no mistake. No matter how pretty he is or how nicely he smiles, he can’t be trusted. Nobody can.

She drew in a breath, fixing the smile on her face a little more strongly.

“Why, Mr. Westbrook, I can’t imagine what you mean. Are you the sort of man who sees things going on everywhere? That seems like an exhausting way to live. Sometimes, things just are as they seem, you know.”

He held her gaze for a long moment, seeming almost amused.

“Sometimes they are,” he said at last. “You’re right. And perhaps I was wrong about you, Miss Montgomery. My apologies.”

For some reason, this was even more offensive than what he’d said before. Rose pressed her lips together, swallowing down her dissatisfaction.

“I guess we should go on in,” she said at last.

“I guess you’re right,” he responded.

Rose kept the smile on her face, although she had a sudden urge to slap the infuriating man.

It’s going to be a long ten days.