An Orphan in the Bounty Hunter’s Arms (Preview)

Chapter One

Arizona 1892 – winter

Luke Carson had been riding hard for several hours. Apart from a short stop near a stream for the horse – and him – to have a refreshing drink, they’d kept going. Starting at dawn with the low winter sun just cresting the horizon, Luke’s thoughts were absorbed by the letter in his pocket. As he swung himself back into the saddle, gripping Sansom’s reins and giving a short tap on the animal’s back, he pressed the small blue paper against his side.

Reading Mary’s name at the end of the letter had made his heart jerk in his chest. The last time he’d seen her she was in Eugene’s arms, her face lifted to his and her glittering green eyes shining. His heart had jumped that day, too. For the thousandth time in five years, he wished he’d told her he loved her then.

His old captain, wearing a neat white beard and looking surprisingly young for his sixty years, had handed him the envelope just as he was leaving Fort Fortune. Luke had swapped the army for the freedom of being a bounty hunter a few years earlier. Now, if he happened to be anywhere near the place that had been his second home, he dropped by.

“Been here some time, young fella, several months. With no way of contacting you, it’s just sat in a tray on my desk.” Captain Linton’s gray eyes looked concerned. “Hope it’s not important, son.”

Throughout his time with Linton’s troop, the old soldier had taken to Luke like a surrogate father. Luke often wondered whether his deep fear of abandonment was evident to the experienced man. He must have seen the spark of suspicion that lingered in Luke’s dark eyes when anyone gave him a kind word. It was a life that appealed to young men with no known family. Luke was no exception. He’d signed up as soon as he left the orphanage.

Through his five years of service, Luke had often reflected on the significance of wanting to be part of something after a parentless childhood. Mary and Eugene had been his only friends in the harsh world of the orphanage. The three had formed a tight bond early on. Luke had always lived at St. Alphage Institution for Destitute Children, as far as he knew. He had no other memories.

Mary Henderson had arrived one summer’s day. A timid, blonde six-year-old whom he immediately wanted to protect from the brutal regime imposed by the guardians. Luke and Eugene Dalton, a year older than Luke, had also been in the orphanage his whole life. The two were already firm friends and they agreed Mary needed their help.

“She’s just a young ’un,” Luke had said, as they both watched her scuttle into a corner of the dormitory as a group of boys pulled her pigtail and made faces at her. She looked terrified. Luke’s strong sense of justice sprang alive as he confronted the laughing boys. Eugene backed him up, pushing the group away from Mary. From that day on, their alliance was sealed.

Luke could almost feel Mary’s fear as he’d read her letter:

I know we ain’t seen each other for some time, Luke, but I could really do with your help. I don’t know who else to turn to. Eugene and me haven’t turned out so well. Seems like he prefers the company of outlaws to us. I’ve not seen him for months. Recently there’s been some men come lookin’ for him at the homestead. I’m worried. They seemed like a bad lot. If by any chance you’re headin’ this way, I beg you to come by. It was signed, Your faithful friend, Mary.

The reference to them being friends pricked Luke’s heart like an arrow. He had wanted to be more than that to her. From the age of eleven, he’d harbored a feeling for her that he’d only recognized in recent years: it was love. He’d loved her. Not as a friend or a sister. He wanted her to be with him, always. His shyness and natural reserve in showing any emotions had silenced him. Eugene didn’t have that restraint, even then.

Mary had been the main reason why Luke had joined the Union Army when he was free to leave the orphanage. It was the perfect answer to his broken heart. He needed to get as far away from his friends who had somehow become a couple. It was too hard to bear.

He hadn’t blamed Eugene for stepping in and claiming Mary. If only Luke had been brave enough, he would have done the same. When he’d tried to tell her how he cared, Eugene stole his thunder, announcing they were going to get engaged.

“Ain’t you pleased for me, Lukey boy,” Eugene had said, hugging Mary’s neck.

He hadn’t been, but he didn’t say so.

Luke pulled Sansom to a halt in a wooded valley. He knew he’d been riding him too long. The animal was panting hard, and his back steamed with the effort of the speed that Luke had set. He jumped down, patting the horse’s side as he did so.

“We’ll take a break here, old man. It’s nearly dusk anyway. We’ll set up camp.”

Luke considered his horse his friend. His was the only constant company he’d known for several years. Determined not to put down roots anywhere, Luke and Sansom roamed the county together in the pursuit of wanted criminals.

Captain Linton had permitted him to buy the animal when he left the army. “I knows you and he have a special relationship,” he’d said, as he took a few dollars from Luke’s last pay packet. “S’only right, he gets to be with you. He’s getting too slow for service anyway.”

Luke led Sansom to the edge of the small lake, glancing over at the horizon as he did so. They weren’t far from Ridgeview, the town that Mary had given in her letter. He’d come across the name only a few weeks before, while on the trail of his latest commission given to him by the county marshal.

“Been causin’ all kinds of upset, this one.” The marshal had told him then. “Leader of the Buck Gang. Goes by the name of Clint Ryder. The sheriff of Ridgeview’s reported cattle rustlin’ and local robberies. They might also be involved in terrorizing the railways.”

The marshal had sucked on his teeth as he screwed his eyes up and gazed at the bounty hunter with a record of success for bringing in dangerous outlaws. “You think you’re up for it, fella? He’s a mean one by all accounts.”

Luke had nodded and taken the paper with the details of the gang leader. There was no wanted poster the marshal had told him. “No one’s ever seen him face to face. Like most cowards, he always wears a mask. The only thing we know is that he’s of average height, slight build, and he’s got piercing blue eyes and brown hair. Could be anyone.”

Luke bent down to fill his water bottle from the lake. As he did so he sniffed deeply. He could smell something. Smoke. He shot upright, scanning the tops of the trees. The evening light was fading, and a slight autumn mist was settling on the landscape. Luke peered through it, and a moving wisp of white caught his eye. Smoke, not mist: a fire. He grabbed the saddle and roll mat that he had taken minutes before from Sansom’s back.

Catching hold of the horse’s bridle, he stroked his neck saying, “Sorry old man. That looks like trouble.”

Luke threaded through the undergrowth on foot, leading Sansom. The smoke had started to fill the air. Up ahead through the branches of the leafy trees, he caught a glimpse of a fence and quickened his step. Just beyond it, a fire was burning ferociously consuming a small cottage.

He dropped Sansom’s reins, whispering, “Stay here boy. Stay here.” Then he leaped over the fence and raced toward the fire. Shouting out as he ran, he could feel the heat of the fire on his face like a red-hot poker. “Is anyone there?”

His call went unanswered, and he stood in the courtyard wildly looking around. The cottage was completely burnt out. Charred wooden slats were all that remained. Luke guessed it had been burning for a while. The house hadn’t been deserted, various pieces of furniture and clothing were scattered on the ground. Someone must live there.

Luke stared through the swirling smoke toward a barn a little way from the cottage. A pile of clothes lay almost at the doorway. He squinted. The clothing was moving. His heart missed a beat. It wasn’t a pile of clothes: it was a person.

Luke dashed toward the barn that had escaped the fire. As he got nearer, he could see that the figure was injured. The burnt skin of an outstretched arm waved uselessly toward the barn door, a desperate cry coming from the body. He knelt by the figure’s side, putting his hand softly on their back. The scream made him freeze. It was a woman.

“It’s alright,” Luke said, “I’m here to help.”

At the sound of his voice, the woman’s head turned to one side. Her face was blackened with smoke and streaked with heat blisters. All Luke could make out on her face was her shining green eyes. His heart jumped. He knew those eyes.

“Mary?” Luke whispered the word in disbelief. He stared harder at the face that contorted into a painful smile.

“Luke … Luke … thank God,” Mary said, as her head slipped onto the ground and her eyes closed.

Luke’s heart thudded against his chest as he carefully lifted his precious friend’s head. Gently, he wiped the black deposit from her cheeks, running his finger along her chin. “Mary, Mary, can you hear me? You must open your eyes.” He cradled her head in his arms, feeling the softness of her blonde hair against his skin. He couldn’t believe what was happening. He closed his eyes, willing the woman in his arms to speak.

A hand grasped his, lightly squeezing his fingers. “Luke …” Mary’s weak voice filled his head. When he looked down at her bright emerald eyes, the years apart dissolved, and all he could see was his childhood sweetheart.

“I’m here, Mary. I’m here,” Luke replied, gently pulling her closer to his body. “I’ll get help … in the town …”

“No.” Mary’s voice had an urgency. Her eyes widened, and she raised her arm, pointing at the barn. “No … there’s no time,” she murmured haltingly. “You can’t trust anyone … just … just … promise me something … before it’s too late.” She grasped his hand tightly. “Promise me … promise me …”

“Anything, whatever you want, anything …” Luke replied, softly.

“Daniel … Daniel …promise me you’ll keep him safe … Eugene … don’t tell Eugene …”

Luke’s head was spinning. What did she mean … don’t tell Eugene? Weren’t they married? “I don’t understand,” he said, gently, “who’s Daniel?”

“My … son. You must keep him safe. Promise me, please …” Mary’s head flopped forward, and her eyes fluttered a couple of times as her voice faltered.

Luke tightened his grip on her hand. “Of course … whatever you want … I promise … but you’re gonna be fine … I’ll get the doctor …”

Mary’s eyes opened slowly, “He’s inside … hurry.”

Luke lifted her gently from his side, rolling up the shawl covering her body into a small pillow and laying her head carefully on it. “I’ll be back in a second,” he whispered. Mary’s eyes fluttered weakly as he stood up.

Luke strode into the barn quickly, peering into the darkness. The building looked empty, except for a stack of hay bales and some tools. He struck a match on the sole of his shoe and lit a lantern on the wall. A loud cry suddenly filled the room. Jesse pulled aside one of the squares of hay and looked straight into a pair of bright green eyes. The child’s face contorted into a look of fear, and a piercing screech echoed from wall to wall.

“It’s alright, little man,” Luke said loudly, reaching forward to take hold of the boy who scrambled hastily backward, away from his outstretched arms. The child’s face puckered again, and tears coursed down his tear-streaked, white cheeks.

Lowering his voice, Luke knelt beside him.

“It’s alright, Daniel … Danny … can I call you Danny? Does your ma call you Danny?” He knew he was rambling, and the boy probably didn’t understand what he was saying, but he wanted to comfort him. He looked so terrified. “I’ll take you to your ma, she’s just outside,” Luke said softly, carefully lifting the little figure into his arms.

The boy clasped Luke’s hair, his eyes opening wide. “Mama?” he said, his gleaming eyes brightening.

“Yes, mama, mama,” Luke repeated as he hurried outside.

He knelt at Mary’s side, placing the boy on the ground. At the sound of the child’s voice, she turned her head, her face breaking into a painful smile.

“Danny …” she whispered, placing her hand on the boy’s leg, then turning to look at Luke. Her eyes shone up at him as she reached for his hand, too. He took it, cradling it gently, and her words made his heart leap. “It was always you …” she whispered, “always you, Luke.” Her hand then slipped from his as her eyelids fluttered one more time and then closed.

Luke’s chest felt as though it would burst as he saw her body sag. “No! Mary. No.”

His voice broke, and his eyes filled with tears as he ran his hand over the fair head that he had cherished for so long.

Danny’s faltering voice made Luke jump. “Mama?”

The boy had moved onto his knees closer to his ma’s side and was grasping her fingers. Luke cleared his throat, wiping his hand across his eyes before he spoke.

“Mama … mama’s … sleeping,” he said, taking hold of the little boy’s hand and squeezing it gently. “Sleeping,” Luke repeated, putting his palms together and laying them against his head in a gesture of sleep.

The boy’s eyes, so like his mother’s, shone back at him as he mimicked Luke’s action.

“That’s right, sleeping,” Luke said, picking the child up. His mind was whirring. He couldn’t leave Mary where she was. He looked at the boy as he stuck his fingers into his mouth, sucking loudly. He heard Sansom whinnying a short distance away and shook his shoulders.

“Are you hungry, little one? Can you eat an apple?” Luke didn’t expect an answer, but the boy’s eyes lit up at the word. He repeated it, and Luke nodded, striding over to Sansom and retrieving the fruit from his saddlebag. Placing his bedroll on the ground, he put the child and the red apple on it and watched as the boy first rolled it then put it against his mouth, chewing furiously.

“You stay there … Danny, I’ve … gotta … see … to mama.” The boy followed Luke’s gaze to the body at the barn door, then he pushed the apple into his mouth again.

Luke lifted Mary into his arms, and glancing back at the child, he stepped around the barn wall, collecting a spade from the side as he did so. The building looked out at the wood and toward the lake where Luke had started to set up camp. A Desert Willow tree was just losing the last of its flowers a short way away.

“I know you always loved this tree,” he whispered, cradling Mary’s body in his arms for the last time, “now you will see it every day,” he added.

Laying her gently down, he prepared the ground and wrapped his first love in her shawl, tears wetting his cheek as he said a silent prayer.

He stood up a few minutes later, his mind racing. He was confused. What had happened? Mary had told him in her letter that she was worried, but he would never have imagined that her life was in danger. Who would do something like this?

Mary seemed to be on her own. She’d made him promise not to tell Eugene … not to tell him what? Luke’s body froze. Mary had also made him promise that he would look after Daniel … her son.

“And I will, my love,” he whispered into the wind, placing a purple flower on the mound of earth.

Chapter Two

Sagebrush, Nevada 1892 – winter

Clara was mildly cross to see James Caldwell stride confidently into the store just after she had opened. He always seemed to be around, wherever she was. The businessman’s voice rang around the room as he clapped people on the back before walking directly toward her.

“Mornin’ Miss Hayes. I see you’re bright and early today.” James pushed his black hat back from his forehead, his dark eyes boring into Clara’s face.

She looked up from wrapping a loaf of bread and placing it in the basket of one of the customers. “I could say the same about you, Mr. Caldwell. I have to collect the bakery early, but your presence is … unexpected. I thought you were a night owl, not a lark.”

James squinted at Clara’s undisguised knowledge of his tendency to frequent the saloon bar until closing time. He laughed loudly, throwing his head back and opening his mouth wide.

“I always like a girl with spirit,” he retorted, leaning his elbows on the counter and looking at her intently. “Now, my early start is your fault. I wanted to make sure that you were ready for the town dance, Friday. I’m expectin’ to have the most beautiful girl in the town on my arm.”

Clara smiled at him. “Well, I truly hope she enjoys it, Mr. Caldwell. As for me … I’ll be havin’ an early night. The store doesn’t run itself you know.”

She turned away as James’ face fell, his eyes darkening slightly. Clara smiled to herself at the tongue-in-cheek remark, before hurrying over toward Amelia, who was choosing a pastry from the shelf.

“Ah, a midday snack for a busy teacher, is it?” Clara said, as her best friend grinned at her ruefully.

“I can’t resist your aunt’s cookies, Clara. They’re so buttery. They’re like a little taste of heaven.” Amelia shook her long dark hair that today was plaited neatly into a ponytail, with a red ribbon at the end. She was always so smart. Clara envied her.

“The schoolteacher’s not wrong, Clara,” Milly Lange chimed, as she pulled her two little boys by her side, preventing them from touching the sweet treats.

Clara looked down at the children’s faces and grinned. She adored Jerry and Thomas Lange. They were so lively. She often watched them playing in the schoolyard as she waited for Amelia to finish. It filled her heart with joy to see them chasing each other and being with their friends so freely. Clara had been an only child and longed for the company of others when she was growing up.

“These two would eat the whole shelf if they got the chance,” the boy’s ma added, looking down at her sons disapprovingly. They both hung their heads, scuffing their shoes on the ground.

“I don’t blame them. Aunt Betty has the best bakery in town,” Clara replied, picking two of the biggest cookies and holding them out to the boys. She glanced at Milly’s face, “Is it alright? These two are a little misshapen, my treat.”

The boys’ eyes lit up with excitement as they looked at their mother pleadingly. She nodded to Clara, who handed the biscuits to the outstretched hands.
“Thank you, Miss Hayes, thank you,” they said in unison.

Clara laughed, then frowned as a voice behind her said, “You won’t get rich giving away the profits, young lady.” James had moved over to the group and was looking down at the children forbiddingly.

Clara turned to face him. “I’m keeping my future customers wanting more. I’m sure that’s a concept that you would agree with,” she replied, cordially. She turned back to Mrs. Lange, taking hold of the parcels of food that she held in her arms. “Let me take those to the counter for you while you finish shopping,” she said, smiling.

Amelia followed her, putting her purchase down and handing Clara a few coins. “I don’t think Mr. Caldwell took that very well,” her friend whispered. Clara looked over at the dark-haired man who was staring at her, his forehead creased into an obvious frown.

“Really?” Clara asked, smiling at her friend. “I didn’t notice,” she added, putting Amelia’s biscuit into a brown paper bag. She folded over the top and handed it to her. “I’ll pop by after I close up,” she said, “would be good to catch up, if you have time?”

Amelia grinned and nodded, then she turned, inclining her head at the brooding man and waving at the Lange family. “See you at school,” she said, cheerfully.

Clara busied herself with the rest of the early morning customers, aware that James was still wandering around the back of the shop. Mrs. Lange came over to the counter with a few more groceries, and Clara totaled up the amount as the boys energetically munched their cookies. “How’s Mr. Lange?” Clara asked as she took the money from the woman’s hand. Her husband had helped a local farmer to fend off some marauders who had tried to take his cattle, and he’d been wounded.

“He’s recoverin’. He won’t be able to work for a week or two, so I’ve taken in some laundry for the inn. We can’t afford to miss any payments to the landlord. I’ll take the boys to school then I must get started.”

The woman’s voice faltered as she glanced at Clara, placing a hand on her stomach she whispered, “There’s another little one in there.”

Clara beamed at her, squeezing her hand. “How exciting!” she said, quietly.

“I haven’t told Mr. Lange yet … want to wait until the times are a bit better,” the woman replied.

Clara nodded, then handed back a few of the coins she had in her hands. “Special discount for expectant mothers,” she said, conspiratorially.

Mrs. Lange smiled broadly. “Thank you, much appreciated,” she replied, squeezing Clara’s hand as she put the money into her pocketbook.

Clara noticed that James was moving toward the counter. She scanned the store, finding there was no one else left to serve. “I’m thinkin’,” Clara said, hurriedly, “why don’t I take the boys to school? You’re busy and … I have the time. I’d really love to.”

Milly Lange looked at the store owner, her face reflecting her relief. “That would be so helpful, but are you sure you have the time? It’s a fair walk to the school gate and … I’m havin’ a little bit of morning sickness.”

Clara patted her hand, and stepping around the counter, she strode to the door.

“Store’s closin’ for a short while,” she called out, placing the notice in the window that said she would be back soon.

James walked quickly over to her side as she opened the door for Mrs. Lange. “Closing early and giving away food – it’s not what I expect from a businesswoman like you. You wanna be careful you don’t wash your profits away on … useless causes.”

Clara caught the gaze he gave to the receding figure of Mrs. Lange, and she frowned. She didn’t understand what he meant. “Don’t worry about me,” she replied, swiftly, taking hold of the two little boys’ hands as she let James step out onto the street. “I’ll always do my best for my pa’s business.”

As she strode toward the schoolhouse, she reflected on the responsibility that she had toward the General Store. It had been her pa’s pride and joy, and something he had thrown himself into all his life after her ma died. When he passed two years ago, she had promised his memory that she would continue to keep the store going.

She glanced back at the sign above the door: HAYES EMPORIUM – EVERYTHING FOR EVERYONE. It had been her pa’s favorite saying, and she had been proud to continue his dedication to serving the town. It always made her sad knowing that her ma had never seen his success. She’d died when Clara was just two years old, giving birth to her brother who also sadly didn’t survive.

As she said goodbye to the Lange boys at the school gate, a pang of regret made her heart jump. She often wondered what it would have been like to have a baby brother.

She waved to Amelia who was standing at the classroom door. Her friend waved back, then turned away greeting the Lange boys with a wide smile. Amelia was always so happy. She looked forward to the afternoon and their getting together. Clara rarely bothered with anyone else, which made people think she was a bit of a loner. It wasn’t true. She just liked to keep herself to herself.

Clara unlocked the door to the store, glancing behind her. She was relieved that James was nowhere in sight. He had taken to hanging around the store at all different times of the day. She really couldn’t understand why. She had only just reached the counter when she heard the doorbell herald the arrival of a customer. She turned, expecting to see James, but the sight of the stranger carrying a crying baby stopped her in her tracks.

He was tall with broad shoulders. His clothing was dusty as though he had been traveling for some time. A makeshift sling hung at the front of his chest, and a baby’s head peeped out above it. She guessed the sling was a blanket or something similar. The man took off his hat, brushing back his unruly dark hair. The eyes that gazed at her made her gasp. They were the biggest, brownest, deep eyes she had ever seen.

“Howdy, ma’am … miss … I’m wonderin’ if you have any milk? This little fella has been hollerin’ for a couple of hours now. I’m guessin’ he’s hungry.”

She stepped toward him quickly, taking hold of the chubby little fingers clutching at the air. The baby’s face was bright red, and his puffed-out cheeks were helping him push the loudest wail out of his mouth that she had ever heard.

“Poor little mite,” she exclaimed, “I’d say he’s more than hungry. When was he last changed?” Clara’s eyes looked down at the wet patch spreading across the blanket.

“Changed?” The stranger looked surprised. The exhaustion in his voice was obvious.

“Yes. Changed. As in his diaper? I think you have a leakage situation goin’ on here.” Clara pointed to the darkened color of the blanket.

“Ah. Now, that’s somethin’ I hadn’t thought about,” he replied, pulling the back of the sling and unhitching the child from it.

Clara put her arms out, taking hold of the baby. “Here, let me hold him while you look around for what you need. I’ve got some diapers behind the counter … if you don’t mind … I could change him for you?”

The man’s brown eyes twinkled for a second, relief flooding his face. “Are you sure? That would be mighty kind of you.”

“No trouble at all,” Clara replied, walking quickly to the back of the store and retrieving a diaper from a drawer in the cabinet. The baby’s arms, which had been flaying about, caught hold of the strands of hair around her face. His crying increased as he tugged her hair, his eyes opening wide. She wiped the tears from his cheek, saying gently, “Don’t be scared. I’m just gonna change your diaper, then we can feed you.” She turned toward the stranger who was picking up a loaf of bread. “How old is he?”

The man looked at her in surprise, a blank expression filling his face. He shook his head. “No idea … well … maybe … two … or …”

Clara frowned. Why didn’t he know how old his son was?

The man took a couple of steps toward her, seemingly reading her mind. “He’s … not my baby … I’m looking after him for a friend …” His words were said haltingly. Clara had the impression that the words were painful for him to say.

“The thing is,” the stranger continued, edging a little closer to Clara and glancing back at the door, “his ma’s just passed … we were … we were … friends, a long time ago. She wanted me to care for the boy. I promised I would but … well, I don’t know much about babies.”

Clara shivered. The boy was motherless, too. He was probably as old as she had been when her mother had died. The child wriggled as she tried to lay him down to replace the very wet diaper with a fresh one. She lifted him, rocking him gently in her arms. He was so beautiful. His bright green eyes were extraordinary, and even though they were red with crying, Clara was captivated. She turned to face the stranger.

“That’s stage one done … I think food is next.” She lifted one of the baby bottles off the display, filling it with some cold milk from the store. “I can do it,” she said, “if you want.”

The feel of the baby on her shoulder and the gurgling sounds he was making made her heart ache suddenly. When the stranger nodded, she sat on the stool by the counter, placing the bottle in the baby’s mouth. The crying stopped immediately, and the boy clung to the bottle, sucking desperately.

“That’s mighty kind … miss …?” The stranger stood watching her as the baby’s hand caught hold of hers.

Clara looked down at the boy’s contented face, stroking his fingers as she answered. “Miss Hayes … Clara,” she replied distractedly, a large smile spreading across her face at the sight of the little boy’s eyes.

“Is this your store?” the stranger asked, “the name’s over the door.”

“It was my pa’s. It’s mine now,” Clara answered, glancing over at the man who was staring at the child in her arms. “What’s his name?” she asked, motioning toward him.

“Danny … Daniel Dalton,” he replied, looking into her eyes.

She met his gaze, and for a moment, she held her breath. He seemed to stare deep into her soul. He held out his hand as he added, “Luke … Luke Carson, pleased to meet you, Miss Hayes.”