Lullabies and Lies on the Prairie (Preview)

Prologue

Golden Valley, California, June 1867

The hairs lifted on Clara Carter’s arms, and an unexpected chill rolled over her skin. She saw nothing to cause alarm, but it didn’t make her feel any better about her body’s sudden alerting to…something. She fervently wished she was already home with her son, Levi. 

Normally, she wouldn’t have been in the village that afternoon, but she’d wanted to check on her friend, Mary Banks, who’d been fighting a wasting disease for the last year. Seeing her had broken Clara’s heart. Mary was fading rapidly. And Clara didn’t know what she was going to do without the one person who had been her friend since childhood.

Somehow, she’d managed to hold back the tears that wanted to spill down her cheeks. She’d plastered a fake, encouraging expression on her face, and spent the afternoon with Mary. They’d talked of things they would do when Mary recovered. All while knowing she was lying through her teeth.

She didn’t want to think about it. There wasn’t a single thing she could do to help Mary. 

Hurrying her steps on the dry, packed road, she cut off onto a path leading from the village, through the densely wooded area that stood between her and her home.

She was just getting the jitters, nothing more. The sun had started its trip below the horizon, and soon darkness would swallow the woods whole. She wanted to be home before then, even if she had to cut dirt to do it.

The trail was overgrown. Brambles reached out thorny stems to rip at her flesh as she pushed her way through. While the minutes ticked away, so did the fading light, and things became more indistinct with the gloom of evening. Regardless, she was still able to see well enough despite the deep shadows of the woods where darkness settled first.

It would still be light when she exited the stretch of woods, with the comfort of her own home and family not far beyond the trees.

Clara’s foot came down on a small branch that cracked loud and clear as it snapped in half. Her ankle bent, sending pain shooting up her calf. But she caught herself before twisting her ankle enough to cause a painful injury.

She stopped and rubbed her ankle, waiting for the pain to abate. She’d been lucky to avoid a nasty sprain.

Her thoughts jerked away from thoughts of home and her son with the speed of a lighting flash as she saw a familiar face peering through the brambles—staring directly at her. Surprise mirrored in his eyes.

Her gaze shot beyond him to where her husband’s coal-black horse stood ground-tied.

What?

For a moment, confusion swirled in her mind.

Then she looked past him, and horror boiled up inside her like bile rising in her throat. On its heels, bone-chilling cold washed over and through her, and for a moment, she was unable to move.

Her mind screamed a single word—run.

She broke free of her paralysis and charged toward the horse. She grabbed the reins and lurched into the saddle, spinning the horse away from the man with the touch of one rein on its neck and her heel on its side.

She gave the horse his head, urging him to race along the trail, unmindful of the branches slapping and raking her arms and legs. Her only thought was getting home and getting Levi before he got there. If he got there first, he would kill both of them.

Chapter One

Travers, Colorado, June 1867

“Well, are you married yet?” Robert Cooper, the best attorney Caitlyn Remington could afford, tapped a pencil on his desk.

Caitlyn sat on an expensive leather chair across from Cooper. “No.” 

And at the rate things were going, she might not find a husband in time to save the ranch.

She glanced at the handful of letters she’d picked up at the post office. She had them delivered there so the people in Salt Creek wouldn’t get wind of it. Husband shopping by advertisement was too humiliating to let the townspeople find out. They would never stop talking about it.

If she actually found someone suitable, it would be far better to let Salt Creek’s residents speculate on how she met the man. And she would make absolutely certain he wouldn’t tell anyone the truth about the situation. She didn’t need to spend the rest of her life getting pitying looks on top of the snide ones she already received from them.

A mail-order-husband hunting was like a ball of curdled desperation sitting in her gut. It was a humiliation her neighbors didn’t need to know about.

Her gaze wandered around his office, illuminated by the midday sun. The large window behind his chair gave a nice view of Travers. Lots of leather and wood filled the office. Decorated in a cowboy theme, it didn’t match the rotund Cooper in the least. She couldn’t imagine him knowing one end of a cow from the other. Much less working around them. He was the epitome of a city slicker; his Boston accent and expensive decorations affirmed it.

With hair so short it was almost non-existent, and cool aquamarine eyes that missed nothing, he looked like a man who should be in charge of running a bank. His demeanor and look was one of arrogant confidence.

Regardless, he was an attorney with a reputation for being better than top-notch. Exactly what she needed.

“Miss Remington, you’re a young woman with…good attributes. You have nice auburn hair and violet eyes. That’s a striking combination that turns men’s heads. I’m sure someone will be interested in marriage.”

She didn’t share his positive outlook. Sure, plenty of men looked at her. But none of them wanted to marry her. At least Cooper didn’t state the obvious, that at best, everyone in town saw her as eccentric.

Maybe she did dress like a boy and carried herself like one. It didn’t mean anything. She was all female under those clothes and demeanor. She just wanted to wear practical clothing. How could she run a ranch in corsets, petticoats, and frilly dresses? She couldn’t.

She had to be practical. And for her that meant being able to manage the horses she raised, trained, and sold.

“You know you have to marry by the time you turn twenty-five if you want to keep the ranch,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

She sighed, and her shoulders slumped. “I’m aware.”

Cooper put the pencil aside and tapped one finger on the polished, cherry wood desk. “I don’t wish to flog a dead mule, but your birthday will be here in no time at all.”

She didn’t want to say anything about her plan, but she supposed she should tell him what she was doing to take care of the problem. “I placed an ad for a husband.”

Her cheeks heated.

He glanced up from the papers he’d spread out on the desk, but he didn’t say anything about it.

She was thankful he let it go and didn’t start asking questions about her solution to meet the will’s stipulation.

Cooper stacked the papers and folded his hands on the stack. “Did you have any questions for me?”

“No. Not this time,” she said.

She’d asked everything pertinent at their first meeting. Now, she just needed to tie herself to a man. If she didn’t, the ranch would be sold out from under her. And that wasn’t going to happen. The ranch was the only thing she loved.

Of course, she didn’t really want a husband. Why would she? What she wanted was a marriage of convenience. In name only. Nothing more.

She still couldn’t believe her father had placed such a provision in his will. But she shouldn’t be shocked, considering how he’d treated her almost to the day he’d died. He’d spent the majority of her life punishing her because her mother ran away with another man. As if it were her fault.

And when her father died, she’d met it with relief. No regrets or guilt. He’d made her life difficult in every way possible. And he’d managed to keep right on doing it from the afterlife.

“Well, then,” Cooper said. “I suppose that concludes our business for today. Let me know when you find a husband.”

“I will.” She rose and showed herself out, her boot heels clicking on the wooden sidewalk. She walked past a café, and the scent wafting from within made her stomach rumble. Maybe she should stop for a bite. After all, it would take a while to ride home.

With regret, she decided against it. She had plenty of work back home. She could grab a meal when she made it to the ranch. 

Chapter Two

Daniel Black tied his horse at the hitching rail and sauntered down the sidewalk along Main Street. 

He’d never been to Colorado before. The natural beauty of the land was incredible. But he was glad he didn’t live there. He could only imagine what the winters were like.

Land was like people in his view, he had no particular loyalty to any place or any person. A true lone wolf, he went where his work took him and called no place home.

The solid strike of a hammer on iron, the tell-tale sound of a blacksmith hard at work, mingled with the rumble of wagons, the jingle of harnesses, and the clip-clop of horses’ hooves. It was a song that spoke of life and the growth of the town.

Travers bustled with activity. It was good to see. Many towns remained tiny and undeveloped. But Travers seemed to be doing well.

A woman in a yellow dress with cascades of lace on the skirt smiled as she neared. He tipped his hat and kept walking. He had no interest in her or anyone else. He had a job to do. 

Jobs meant money, and money meant living better than a rat. He didn’t like rats. While he was able to deal with just about anything that came along, he did enjoy a decent place to lay his head and a good meal at the end of the day.

His stomach rumbled. He walked on. Most probably, the town had more than one place to find decent food.

Daniel spotted a café on the other side of the street a little further down. He stepped off the sidewalk and hurried to the other side, dodging a two-wheeled pony cart. The young girl handling the lines looked more than capable of driving the fancy little gray pony. Another girl sat next to her laughing while hanging onto the seat.

He shook his head at their nonsense, but he didn’t begrudge their fun. Life was short, and a person never knew when it would be snuffed out. Or when someone you cared for would be taken away. No, he wasn’t annoyed by children enjoying the brief bit of time when life seemed much more simple and good.

As he neared the café, the scent of food drew him forward, pulling him toward whatever culinary delight had produced such an enticing aroma.

He passed a newspaper office and a barber. Maybe he should get his hair trimmed later. He preferred a neat appearance.

Three giggling school girls in bright-colored dresses raced by him, throwing back hasty apologies, but not slowing on their journey.

His stomach growled like a famished bear as if to remind him to get on with finding food.

His latest job had brought him there to Travers, Colorado. Now, he just wanted to grab some food and get to work on collecting his pay. 

He was more accustomed to hunting dangerous outlaws. There was decency in removing criminals from society. Perhaps not pleasure, but satisfaction in knowing he’d removed another wicked person before they destroyed someone’s life in one way or another.

 But this case was very different.

Normally, he didn’t take jobs from strangers. He typically pulled a wanted poster and set off in pursuit of the culprit. But Buck Brewer had offered such a handsome reward that he couldn’t turn it down. Brewer was seeking a woman who’d kidnapped his child and stolen money. An easy job, certainly.

Besides, if she’d taken a child that didn’t belong to her, he wanted to see it returned home to the people who loved it. No child should be taken from a rightful parent.

Brewer had really wanted to hire him to offer so much money. He would have been a fool to turn it down. It wouldn’t be difficult to find one lone woman with a baby. He’d tracked her to Colorado; now he needed a lead.

A group of riders cantered by, sending a thick cloud of dust up into the air, choking him until he coughed and plucked his hat off to fan away the floating particles.

He should probably eat, then check into the hotel. He needed a base to operate from. So he might as well get a room and be done with it.

He glanced across the street. Someone bumped into him with a little gasp.

A woman.

She wore an expression that sang songs of disgruntlement as a stack of letters spilled from her hand and scattered on the dirty, wooden planks.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he said and bent to gather them at the same time she also knelt to collect her envelopes.

“No need to apologize. It was my fault,” she said. “I was distracted instead of paying attention to where my feet were going.”

Every letter he picked up had a man’s name on the return address. He glanced at her, and for the first time, it registered that she was dressed in men’s clothing. He lifted an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. How she dressed wasn’t his business.

He stood and handed the envelopes to her and got a good look at her. Instinctively, he controlled himself and showed no reaction.

She was Clara Carter, the woman he was searching for. He couldn’t believe he’d had such good luck. But then his excitement and good fortune drained away. It wasn’t her. 

Though this woman looked so much like Clara that it was uncanny. They had to be related unless fate was toying with him. And he wasn’t much of a believer in fate. 

His mind raced with possibilities. He had to find out for sure if they were kin. 

“You certainly get a lot of correspondence from men,” he said in a bid to keep her from walking away. And immediately admonished himself for saying such a foolish thing. 

What was wrong with him? That was no way to find out information from a woman. It sounded like…well, he didn’t know exactly what it sounded like. But it wasn’t flattering, to say the least.

Her cheeks turned deep pink. “Well,” she said, “it’s embarrassing, but I’ve advertised for a husband.”

“Oh, I see,” he said. But he didn’t. Did women do that sort of thing? He’d only heard of men seeking a wife from advertisements.

“Well, I suppose congratulations are in order. If that’s what you want,” he said. He wanted her to keep talking so he could try to figure out how to ask about Clara.

He’d rather just come out and ask. But that might have bad consequences if this woman knew her. And she almost had to know Clara. They looked so much alike; it couldn’t be coincidence. Could it?

One thing was sure, this woman was striking, beautiful, actually. Her auburn hair and violet eyes were an amazing combination. Why in the world would she have to advertise for a husband?

He knew Clara had auburn hair, but he hadn’t inquired about her eye color. Did she also have violet eyes? He bet not. He’d never seen anyone with that eye color before. How intriguing. 

“I don’t want to get married,” she sputtered. “That’s the last thing I want.”

“Then why…” He stared into her violet eyes. They were so unusual, it was hard not to look at them. He pulled his gaze slightly away to avoid being rude.

“My father. He made a stipulation in his will. I have to marry before I turn twenty-five, or the ranch will be sold instead of staying with me, as it should.” She made a slight huffing sound.

“I see,” he said. 

“I knew my father had no regard for me. But this…This is beyond anything I ever thought he was capable of. Apparently, I was very wrong.”

Well, she liked to talk.

She neatened the stack of letters. Having turned each one to have the address information on top.

“Perhaps he just didn’t want to leave you alone,” he said.

She snorted. “Believe me, he didn’t care if I found marital bliss or remained a spinster. He did it out of spite.”

Did she come from money? Did Clara? Why had her father treated her so badly? He had lots of questions and no answers.

“My father made my life awful. You’d think that in his final rest, he could leave me alone. But no, he found a way to make my life a disaster even after he departed from my existence.”

It didn’t sound like she had much love for her dear old father. He stepped aside to let a scraggly-looking man pass. The odor wafting off him was enough to nearly knock a man off his feet.

She didn’t react at all. Many women would have made a disgusted sound or gesture at the man’s offensive smell. He had to appreciate her for not behaving like a silly ninny over it.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any good advice for dealing with actions from the afterlife,” he said. He had to somehow lead her to a point where he could find out about Clara.

“Well, apparently, neither does my overpriced attorney. I swear, that man has no problem taking my money and delivering nothing.”

“What kind of ranch do you have?” he said. He couldn’t think of anything better to say.

“Horse farm,” she said. “We have fine horses that we train and sell.”

He nodded. Why couldn’t he think of something witty to say to her? His head was starting to hurt at the temples. He needed food, a cup of coffee, and some rest. Instead, he was playing games with this woman.

He needed to just come out with it and ask. “I know this is going to sound like a lie, but it isn’t. Do you have a sister or another relative who looks like you? I ask because I saw a woman who looks very much like you in Golden Valley, California.”

“No. I don’t have any sisters, and my aunts don’t look like me. I’ve never been outside Colorado, either. If there’s someone who looks like me, I’ve never seen them or know of them.”

Was she telling him the truth? He didn’t know. For whatever reason, he wanted to believe her. But he couldn’t just assume she was speaking the truth. Though, to give her credit, she didn’t seem like she was lying.

So much for just asking; he still didn’t know what to think about her story. Or her in general. One thing he did know, she was an intriguing woman and he was in no rush to end the conversation.