The Squatter's Daughter

PROLOGUE

1876 Sweetwater, Texas

Dang it all! Wake up, Pa! The redheaded girl in the ill-fitting gingham dress pulled on the prone man’s hand futilely.

She leaned down and shook him roughly by the shoulder with all of her might. He didn’t stir, snoring louder, reeking of whiskey and soiled with the stink of stale urine.

Her young face was etched in disgust as she considered the passed out form of Elijah Cullen. He was laying face down in the dirt alongside The Blue Goose saloon where he slept it off the night before. He was missing a boot on his left foot.

She looked about for his other boot and sighed in relief, seeing the mate not far from where she stood. She retrieved it and returned to try and wake up her father. The task proved to be hopeless. He would wake up when he felt like it.

That could be anytime.

The townsfolk of Sweetwater were used to seeing Elijah Cullen thusly. They just walked around him without a thought on the boardwalk or stepped over him if he blocked a doorway. He generally passed out wherever he happened to be at the time. All tolerated the town drunk, moved to pity his family as he became increasingly lost to the drink.

Today at precisely high noon Elijah was found passed out drunk in an alleyway, a narrow space between the saloon and the general store, and thankfully hidden from the sight of the townsfolk who milled up and down the street and went about their business.

The girl tugged on his arm as hard as she could; using all of her strength to try and drag him to the where the wagon she brought waited. After several minutes of huffing and puffing, she realized she would never manage getting him to the wagon by herself.

Tears of anger and frustration filled her green eyes. She brushed a long tangled red curl from her eyes. She glanced to the street and saw a handsome young man and his female companion in a horse-drawn buggy draw up to the alley entrance. The boy looked down at her questioningly.

You need some help there, kid?

His female companion frowned immediately, her pretty face filled with dismay. Cole, I don’t think we have time for this—

Cole Gantry cut off his companion with a sharp look. He jumped down from the perch and approached the little girl. He smiled warmly down at her, his dark blue eyes sincere as they met hers.

You must be Elijah’s daughter. The boy regarded her curiously, his dark blue eyes filled with friendliness. I haven’t seen you and your family in church in a long while.

My ma needs me at home to watch after my baby brother, the girl offered lamely and looked down at her bare dirty feet peeking out under the tattered hem of her dress, too embarrassed to meet his kind gaze, wiping unconsciously at her dirty face.

I got a baby brother too, Cole offered with a reassuring smile. I’d rather look after him any day than have to sit through Pastor Mayhew’s sermons. Consider yourself lucky.

The little girl looked up at the older boy and nodded, tongue-tied to realize who he was. It was Luther Gantry’s fifteen year-old son Colton Xavier Gantry, or just Cole as all called him. Luther was one of the wealthiest ranchers in west Texas. Everybody knew who the Gantry’s were. The girl didn’t expect such kindness from a Gantry, considering her family was illegally squatting on their land and had been for years.

Cole was tall for his age, and muscular from working on the ranch all of his life. His sun-darkened handsome visage was the source of every young girl in Sweetwater’s romantic dreams. He was currently sweet on Sarah Parker, the well-dressed young girl seated in the buggy tossing them both looks of disgust, all the while looking around to see if anyone noticed them stopped there.

Well let’s see if we can drag him to the wagon, Cole offered and leaned down in his Sunday best, rolling Elijah over onto his back and grasped him under his armpits. You just get his feet.

The girl nodded and tucked the stray boot under one arm and picked up her father’s feet as Cole Gantry easily hefted her father the eight or so feet to the edge of the wagon. Cole helped her lift her father’s dead weight into the back of the wagon.

Thank you, she mumbled softly and ducked her head, conscious of Sarah’s scornful inspection of her bedraggled appearance, feeling like a bug from her look of disgust.

What’s your name, kid?

She looked up at Cole in surprise. I’m…I’m Raeanne.

Cole grinned his perfect smile and tipped his Stetson, his smile wide. You take care now, Raeanne. Best be getting your pa home.

Raeanne could only stare after Cole in silence as he returned to the buggy and joined his fuming companion on the seat, clicking the reins and they were on their way to church services. She jumped up on the buckboard and took the reins, guiding the oxen-led wagon through town, smiling despite herself at the rare show of kindness.

She failed to tell Cole the reason she no longer attended church was because of the way the congregation frowned upon her family. The whispers and contemptuous looks her and her ma received were never explained to Raeanne.

The sneers and whispers became more than Charity could endure. Her ma just said they weren’t going to church anymore one day when she could take it no more. Going into town was a painful affair, drawing looks of dismay by all.

Raeanne arrived back at the ramshackle cabin in the valley at the base of the foothills an hour later. Her ma was holding the two month-old baby on her hip and trying to take clean clothes down from the line between two trees. She left her father in the back of the wagon and jumped down.

Charity Cullen tossed the dry garments into a woven basket at her feet. She looked passed her daughter to the wagon where Elijah’s feet stuck out back, her blue eyes filled with contempt. Where did you find him this time?

Outside the saloon, the girl said softly and bit her lip. I checked his pockets like you told me. They were empty, Ma.

Of course they were, her mother said harshly and shook her head, her honey-blonde hair streaming down her back. You keep an eye on Tommy while I go back into town. Lester will give us more credit until next month. We got to eat.

Ma we ain’t paid what we owed last month, Raeanne pointed out, her green eyes filled with worry, unwilling to tell her mother how hungry she was for fear seeing her cry once more.

Charity stiffened and handed the small dark-haired baby over to her. You don’t worry about nothin’. I’ll go and talk to Lester.

What are you going to do about Pa?

Charity grinned and walked over to the wagon. I know what I’d like to do.

Raeanne watched as her mother jumped into the back of the wagon and rolled and pushed her unconscious husband’s form out of the wagon. He landed in a thud in the dirt, groaning but otherwise none the worse for wear.

Charity smiled coldly as she jumped down. I’ll be back in a few hours with food and supplies, Raeanne. You fold the rest of that and put Tommy down for a nap, you hear?

Yes’m, the girl replied dutifully and held the baby, watching Charity drive the wagon away, up the narrow path through the woods that led to the main road back to town.

Raeanne went inside the cabin and put her baby brother in his cradle, folding the clothing and placing it all away. When her father failed to wake up an hour later, she went outside to check on him, seeing he was content to remain curled in the dirt. She knew better than to try and wake him up, knowing a harsh word and a vicious slap would accompany such an action.

No, it was better to leave Elijah be at a time like this.

Hours later, her mother failed to return. Elijah eventually stumbled into the cabin and immediately sought his bed, falling into it without a word to her. Raeanne waited as it began to grow dark, feeding the fire and wondering what was taking her mother so long, feeling a twinge of hysteria the later it got.

She woke up first the next morning, hearing Tommy fussing in his cradle. She was about to pour goat’s milk into a bottle for him when the door to the cabin cracked open quietly. Raeanne watched her mother enter, a serene expression on her glowing face as she barred the door, coming up short to see her daughter there. Her face was flushed guiltily, the buttons on the front of her dress askew.

Raeanne said nothing and retreated to feed her brother, listening as her mother opened cabinets and cupboards looking for the means of making a meal for her child to take to school. She could have told her there was no food in the house, not having eaten since before she returned from town yesterday.

She put Tommy in his cradle and got dressed for school in the loft, returning to find an empty tin pail on the table. Her mother smiled and handed her several pennies instead, tying the strings of her poke bonnet under her chin, tweaking her red braids with a forced smile.

You run over to Quimby’s on your way. Lester will make you up something to eat.

Raeanne wanted to ask where her mother got the coins but took them gratefully instead. She left the cabin, following the path to the main road for the three-mile trek into town where the schoolhouse was.

~ ~ ~

Elijah got up from the bed and washed his bearded face in the nearby basin, his red-rimmed eyes growing ugly as he spied his wife sitting at the table peeling potatoes. His dark eyes narrowed as they slid over her, wondering what brought that rare smile to her lips.

He hadn’t seen a smile like that for him in more years than he could recall, not missing it as much as he resented it. The desire to make that smile go away made him lash out at her angrily.

Fix me somethin’ to eat, woman, and be quick about it, Elijah ordered in a gravelly voice, his dark eyes cold.

I made a stew, Charity offered quietly and avoided his eyes, stiffening to know what was coming. I’ll fix you a bowl after you get washed up.

Where’d you get the money to buy the fixin’s for stew? Elijah glared at his wife, waiting for her answer.

Lester extended us more credit at the mercantile, Charity explained and heard his angry intake of breath. I didn’t have any choice! We done run out of everything!

More credit? Elijah shook his head angrily and stalked out of the bedroom, pulling his suspenders up over his dirty, rumpled shirt. Who do you think is gonna pay for it, you damned stupid woman?

Maybe if you eased up on your drinkin’ and took in more work at the ranch it would get paid, his wife interjected with a look of cold disdain in her blue eyes.

Elijah walked forward quickly. Before she saw it coming he swung out and slapped her hard across the face, his face flushed with anger. Don’t you ever tell me what to do, you hear me? You uppity damn bitch! I curse the day I ever married the likes of you! You go and run up credit all over town and think you’re gonna make me pay it off, do you? Well you got another thing comin’!

Charity held her stinging cheek with one hand, holding her tongue during his angry tirade. Judging by the shaking of his hands, he needed a drink badly. He glared at her and stormed over to the tin box on the mantle, reaching inside to withdraw the few coins he found there.

I’m going into town. You can figure out how you’re gonna pay Quimby off this time.

Charity watched Elijah jam on his hat and put on his boots, refraining from telling him their account was paid in full at the mercantile. He never questioned anything, too gone from the drink. She was unwilling to tell him how she managed it. She hid a smile to know how easily he was to fool.

Her blue eyes were filled with contempt as she watched him leave, knowing she wouldn’t see him again for days to come and be happy of it. All he ever did was yell at their daughter and disparage his wife. He wanted to be anywhere but here, yearning for a whiskey bottle more than is family.

Elijah took off grumbling under his breath, never looking back to see his wife stare balefully at his back in the doorway, her blue eyes filled with disgust. Charity turned away from the door and barred it. She reached inside her apron pocket. She took out the thick packet of money.

Charity walked into the bedroom and lifted up the mattress, sliding the money inside a hole burrowed under there. The money was for a rainy day, she was told by the man who gave it to her.

Sure enough, there would be many of them rainy days to come.

CHAPTER ONE

1886 Sweetwater, Texas

The sound of drunken laughter echoed about the shadowy canyon. The full moon overhead guided the girl’s desperate progress as she ran up the rocky incline. She was breathing raggedly while dodging overhanging tree branches and tripping over spindly cactus. She hitched up the hem of her long, hampering skirts. The sound of her frantically beating heart was all she could hear.

She clutched the empty shotgun, gasping as she paused to lean against a nearby tree for support, having a now painful stitch from the breakneck run into the hills. She could only hope to wear them down and double-back to confuse her pursuers. She prayed they gave up their intentions.

The boys from town played this game often with her since her ma ran off and her pa got himself shot. The girl knew what they would do to her should they catch her. The five boys from town were all known to her. Their antics grew uglier since they all left the schoolyard.

Billy Thornton was the ringleader of the group. He was the one to spot her near the creek as she checked her snares for small game. They were drinking all night before they showed up at the creek for a swim. They bragged of which of them would catch her before she took off running. They hooted with laughter as they pursued her.

Fear nipped at her heels as she chanced a look behind her. She tripped and went down hard on the uneven path, biting her lip to keep from crying out as she felt sharp stones cut into her legs. She scrambled up to her feet and looked back, seeing a lantern glowing below the ridge. She relaxed, seeing them looking in the opposite direction from where she hid.

She sighed with relief and walked on, breathing raggedly and wiping her sweaty brow with the back of her hand. A frown marred her forehead as she thought of all that happened in the last six months.

None of it was good, that was for sure.

Charity Cullen left her drunkard of a husband and her five kids for a fancy travelling man six months back. They had no word from her since. She wasn’t coming back, the girl knew with a resentful scowl. She pacified her siblings, saying Mama would come for them when the time was right, when she got set up elsewhere.

All believed her tale but Tommy.

He knew his ma wasn’t ever coming back. He knew more than a ten year-old boy should.

Their pa was drunk more often than not. He mouthed off to a surly gunslinger passing through town some months back. He wound up getting shot in the street for his trouble. Elijah Cullen lived for twenty-two more days before he gave up the ghost. He left his five children alone and unprotected. The money donated to them by the church before Christmas was long gone, drank up by Elijah as soon as it was offered by kindly Pastor Mayhew and his wife.

Instead of buying winter clothes for his children and supplies, Elijah set himself up in town, getting drunk until it was all gone. He gave up on himself long before his faithless wife ran off with another man.

Raeanne could hear the boys moved off in the opposite direction. She continued up the uneven path, conscious of sounds of pursuit.

While she tended to her brothers and baby sister, her mother snuck off to meet the slick city gent waiting for her in town. Before that, there was always somebody waiting for Charity.

Raeanne knew with a sinking feeling her mother did far more than take in needlework in the back of The Blue Goose saloon in town. It was snickered about in church for years. Raeanne accepted her mother became a whore. She made excuses her mother had little choice with Elijah’s running off from time to time on a drinking binge.

Anger and resentment for Charity’s actions seemed pointless right now. Raeanne was faced with the enormous responsibility of caring for Tommy, seven year-old Raymond, six year-old Seth, and four-year old Addie.

There wasn’t time for anger when she had to hunt to feed her family or starve, attend to all the household chores, and make sure the boys got off to the schoolhouse three miles away every day. Addie was too young and stayed home for now, keeping Raeanne tied to the cabin until the boys got home.

These necessary occasions when she left the safety of the cabin made her vulnerable to these ugly attacks. The boys in town saw her as easy prey out here in the middle of nowhere. With no male protection, Raeanne knew they were sitting ducks out here.

Any random outlaw or drifter could discover the ramshackle cabin nestled at the base of the canyon in the valley below. Most of the locals were too afraid of Luther Gantry, the man who owned the land they lived on to even think of trespassing.

Since Elijah died some of the boys got brave enough to risk Gantry’s wrath, figuring the cattle baron wouldn’t raise a stink over them harassing a squatter’s daughter.

True enough, Luther allowed Elijah Cullen to squat on his land all of these years. None knew the true reason why. Most assumed the pair had once been friends before the Civil War ended. Few knew the real connection. Even Raeanne wasn’t certain why the richest cattleman in west Texas turned a blind eye to her father freeloading on his property.

Raeanne’s mother hinted there were reasons why Luther allowed it. Raeanne never learned what those reasons were before Elijah got killed and Charity up and left. She supposed she’d never know the full story. The Gantry’s were tolerant since Elijah died and for that she was grateful.

Luther Gantry approached her in church at the service for her pa months back and offered his condolences. Raeanne recalled the sincerity in the man’s dark blue eyes before he pressed twenty dollars into her hand and walked away to join the rest of his family in the pews.

Raeanne recalled his uppity wife regarding them all with a sniff, covering her nose with a dainty lace handkerchief as they passed her in the aisle. The beautiful blonde woman in her fashionable gown and frilly hat was Elizabeth Gantry.

Her two daughters sat with her, all avoiding looking at the bedraggled Cullen children, or her pa’s former drinking companions, passing moonshine around the aisles in an earthen jug. When the jug was passed to Luther, he suffered his wife’s indignant scowls. He drank from the jug, honoring Elijah Cullen with all those in attendance.

Arabella Gantry was the very picture of her mother at nineteen. She was blonde and beautiful, and as vapid as a firefly caught in a tin lantern. She appeared bored by the proceeding, fanning herself despite the coolness of the afternoon.

Her younger dark-haired sister Caroline was busy making eyes behind her fan at the handsome young ranch hand across the pews, practicing her flirtations for Atlanta, their destination in the spring.

All whispered Caroline snuck about to meet Billy Thornton on the sly, her questionable virtue speculated by the church ladies who never had the heart to tell Mrs. Gantry her youngest daughter was on her way to being labeled a hussy.

Both girls were to enter the same society their mama left to marry Luther Gantry years before. Elizabeth accompanied them to Atlanta where they intended to stay with her younger sister and her husband for the girl’s debut.

The Gantry brothers weren’t in attendance the day of the funeral.

Mason was the oldest, already in charge of The Flying G, the largest cattle ranch in west Texas. At twenty-seven, he was the most eligible bachelor in the county. Every girl in town had eyes for Mace as he was called. He was tall and lanky, blonde like his mother, handsome, and as driven and as ambitious as his father when it came to ranching.

Cole Gantry was back east in Boston, finishing his law degree before he returned to take up his place as Mace’s right hand. Cole was twenty-five, as dark as Mace was fair, and the source of many women’s fantasies in Sweetwater.

Very few didn’t lose their tongues when looking into his fathomless blue eyes, or fall for his effortless charm. Cole Gantry had been gone for eight years but few forgot him. Hearts picked up a few beats to know he’d be coming home soon.

Andrew Gantry was the youngest at fifteen, the baby of the Gantry family and always running headlong into mischief. Anytime some shenanigans occurred one always wondered if the younger Gantry had a hand in it. He drove his pa to rages and his ma into fits of the vapors. All wondered if the boy would come to a bad end one of these days with his tendency to veer towards trouble.

The Cullen’s were all dirty, unkempt, and made the church ladies nearly swoon to see their bare feet as they trudged through the aisle to the front of the church. Raeanne kept her eyes straight ahead that day, refusing to meet their sympathetic gazes. She felt her back stiffen up the minute she heard the whispers, the sighs, and the inevitable question of what would become of them.

Leave it to such God fearing folk to assume the worst.

The talk suggested Raeanne would take up in one of the saloons as her mother had before her. She burned to hear that, even if she would never dare resort to such a thing. She felt soiled at that moment in her ma’s best dress, self-conscious of the looks, the insinuating gleam in all of their eyes.

The money Luther gave her was a blessing that day even if it burned her pride to take it. She bought enough supplies to keep them comfortable for a time. But Raeanne couldn’t avoid the real issue.

They weren’t safe out here anymore. The visit from the boys tonight wouldn’t be the last. What if they should catch her one of these nights? Thoughts of them violating her, even killing her and leaving her siblings defenseless made her cringe inwardly, knowing she was overreacting.

But what if they grew bold enough to overtake the cabin?

These questions plagued her as she snuck through the brush, doubling back the way she came, sure she could leave the boys wandering in circles until they gave up for the night.

Raeanne pondered what would become of them since the sheriff of Sweetwater arrived to inform them Elijah was wounded. He was cared for by an old Apache Indian in town named Straight Arrow. The old man was her pa’s favorite drinking companion. He had a shack behind the livery barn in town. Straight Arrow took care of the horses in exchange for room and board.

He dragged his friend from the street that day when the doctor said nothing could be done. The belly wound would kill him, Doc Willoughby pronounced before he made a grimace of disgust and walked away. It took over three weeks for Elijah Cullen to die.

Raeanne paused on the path leading upward into the hills, looking down to see the dim light from the lanterns below her. She worried over her tardiness getting back.

Tommy kept a vigil while she was out checking the snares for rabbits. Her coming back empty-handed would no doubt elicit another argument to contact their mother’s family back east.

It was an old argument. It began when Charity ran off, leaving an old bible behind with the name of what was possibly her only living relative in Charleston printed inside it. Tommy wanted to contact their grandmother, became adamant it was the only way. Raeanne refused to consider it, knowing from Charity that her mother turned her back on her when she married Elijah Cullen.

It was their only hope, Tommy insisted, a stubborn glint in his brown eyes.

Raeanne wouldn’t hear of it, refusing to write the letter. Pride was something a Cullen wasn’t known for in these parts but she had hers. She’d be damned if she’d write to the woman who turned her back on her only child so many years before.

According to her mother’s tale they eloped against Octavia Roundtree’s wishes. Charity never contacted her mother again, even when things got hard out west and her husband turned to drink and meanness.

Raeanne knew she should write that letter for the benefit of the other children but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. No, they would survive. They had to. Thoughts of taking charity from their grandmother made her balk.

As if the old woman would even consider helping them. Raeanne couldn’t count the many times they faced starvation or worse and not one time did Charity reach out to her mother for help. That warned her that help wouldn’t come.

No, she thought stubbornly. There had to be another way. She’d find it.

At eighteen years of age, Raeanne had never been allowed to be a child. She was pulled from the schoolhouse at fourteen. It was right before she prepared to take the exam for her teaching certificate. The new schoolteacher, Miss Alicia Goodman, said she showed great promise. Raeanne recognized early on that education was the only thing that could save her from this hand to mouth existence.

Her dream of becoming a schoolteacher went to the wayside when Addie was born. Charity said she’d be better off finding a husband than taking the teaching position Miss Goodman found for her in Abilene. Raeanne buried the resentment that such choices had been made for her. She never gave up hope to pursue that dream one day.

The babies came along, one after the other, taking up all the carefree days spent planning her own future to feed and care for first Tommy, Raymond, Seth, Adelaide, and finally poor baby Terence.

A grave marker out by the old gnarled tree signified the sixth Cullen child. He was buried not far from the cabin. Her youngest sibling lived until he was five months old, dying of the croup when no money for medicine could be found.

Little Terrence struggled to breathe that horrible winter’s night while Elijah took the last of their coins and went into town. He never returned, spending those precious few pennies on whiskey instead. Raeanne was left dig a grave that snowy morning to bury the baby, her mother too overwrought to deal with it. Her mother stayed in bed for days, staring into space when the infant was laid to rest.

Raeanne believed the grief of losing Terrence must have sent their mother over the edge at last, perpetuated her taking work in the saloon. It wasn’t long before Charity found someone to take her away from there, leaving her children behind without even a promise she’d be back.

No, she wasn’t coming back for them. She didn’t want them. It was a hollow feeling to be abandoned by one’s own mother.

Raeanne made excuses for her actions, believing that her mother wasn’t suited for this life, scratching out a rough existence in the plains. Charity longed for fine clothes and city life. She told her children stories of how her wealthy widowed mother entertained some of the most affluent families back in Charleston. Charity grew up pampered and spoiled before the war.

Raeanne could easily believe Charity was the southern belle she claimed to be; heralded the prettiest girl in town, with bevies of suitors vying for her hand. She was the epitome of southern grace with her classically beautiful features, lustrous honey-blonde hair, and robin’s egg blue eyes.

The reason she settled on Elijah Cullen for a husband was anyone’s guess.

Elijah was little more than a drifter after the war. He never returned to his family’s farm in Mississippi. He was a handsome man with his wavy dark hair and warm brown eyes. Her mother said he could charm the birds out of the trees.

How could Charity have known Elijah had a penchant for whiskey that ran deeper than his affections? Elijah met Charity in Charleston in 1868, shortly after a ceasefire was declared in the Civil War. The two fell in love at first sight, or so her mother claimed.

Raeanne had seen little of that love over the years. From the time she was aware of it, there was an unhealthy discord between her parents. Her mother would nag and upbraid her father. He would leave for days, only to come back drunk and ornery. The pair would argue until Elijah left again.

It was a sad ritual all the children knew by heart, hiding in the loft during these battles. Charity seemed relieved when her husband stormed away. Her own disappearances in the evening soon drew Raeanne’s notice. She ignored it for a time, but after a while she grew curious.

Raeanne caught her mother meeting her lover weeks before she disappeared. She said nothing to her father on the rare occasions when Elijah was sober and at home. She followed Charity into town.

She discovered she was meeting the travelling salesman in the hotel. William Buxton was only passing through selling his wares. He was a glib-tongued man who could sell snake oil to even the most dubious of customers. He stayed on weeks longer before the pair ran off together.

Raeanne knew she couldn’t have stopped her mother from leaving. If it hadn’t been the travelling man it could have been anyone. Her mother was looking for a way out of her sad life. The salesman was just a hasty means to an end.

She thought back to those early days when her mother would disappear in the night, sometimes slipping in before dawn so as not to alert her children. Raeanne knew there was a man her mother snuck away to meet all those years.

Raeanne pushed away the bleak memories. Reality took its place; a reality that spelled disaster unless she found the means to care for her family. She knew whatever understanding that existed between her father and Luther Gantry ended upon his death. She could look forward to eviction from the cabin, left homeless, unless some kindly family took them all in.

The church ladies all wanted Addie. Sweet, adorable little Adelaide was the very picture of their mother, and was fussed over whenever they went into town.

A farmer agreed to take in the boys, having no sons to help him work his land.

Raeanne refused to split them all up. She bit her lip to know no offer for her had been forthcoming. Not a reputable one anyway.

The barkeep Titus Rangold offered her a job in The Blue Goose. She cringed to recall his lecherous leer when he approached her on the boardwalk outside the mercantile not long ago. She knew what the job entailed and declined. He laughed harshly, his eyes narrowed and ugly.

Ye’ll be back, lil’ gal, Titus predicted with a grin as she went on her way, dragging Addie along with her.

That was six months ago.

Now their father was dead. Elijah’s mysterious lifetime lease with the Gantry’s was at an end. It was time to write that letter. It galled her to be unable to avoid asking for help.

She was used to having all the answers, of supplying whatever her family needed. It seemed clear nothing would get done out of pride. This time she couldn’t find the answer only more questions.

Raeanne was forced out of her musings when she heard a horse whinnying nearby. A twig snapped ahead of her on the path. The shotgun came up without a second thought. She cleared and cocked it loudly to get the stranger’s attention. A man walked out of the shadows leading a limping horse behind him.

CHAPTER TWO

Whoa now, easy there, the man said in a deep voice as he stepped further into sight, the moonlight bringing him into view. I got no issue with you, boy. I’m just on my way home. Just let me pass.

Boy? Try again, Raeanne scoffed at him in a derisive whisper. You’re trespassing on private property, mister. You got no right coming up in here.

The man was tall, dressed like a cowboy in dungarees and a dark work shirt under a knee-length duster. He wore a black Stetson that obscured his face from view. She was suspicious when he reached under his duster. The shotgun was held fast.

I got every right, girl. My pa owns this land. I’m Cole Gantry. You must be Cullen’s daughter. He struck a match and lit a cigarette. The flame illuminated his face, making her cringe