The Pregnant Widow’s Defender (Preview)

Prologue

April 1890

It began with the sun. Chayton loved that moment when dawn became real. It was the time when the light of the sun, which had been threatening for a while, turning the world gray, finally crested the rim of the world and spilled, like a golden river of light in the sky, bathing everything it touched in its magic. 

There wasn’t much he could remember of his birth parents and the village he’d lived in before. The only thing was his father taking him to see the sunrise on the crest of a hill once and telling him how each day was a blessing given by the Great Spirit. He should honor the Great Spirit and show his respect for the gift of another day by doing his best in it. 

Seeing the sunrise did more than simply remind him of his father, it made Chayton feel closer to his Sioux heritage, to his people, than anything else in his life did. 

After the terrible day when his entire village was destroyed, Chayton was taken in by a local farmer, a kind man who raised him like his own. Now, Chayton had two brothers, Elijah and Sam, and he was grateful for them and his new family. 

“Tell me we’re going to start this hunt before I become as stiff as a board,” Elijah said, shifting with his usual impatience on his rock. 

Chayton had brought his brothers to the top of a hill to see the sunrise.

“Pipe down,” Sam, the elder brother said, his eyes closed, his face turned to the sun where it lit his brown hair, tinging it with gold. “You’re ruining the moment.” 

Elijah shifted and sighed heavily as though being still was too much for him. 

Chayton smiled. “We’ll go in a moment, Elijah, but you know that to hunt effectively, you have to be still, in your heart and in your body.” 

“Yes, yes,” Elijah said, still fidgeting. “That’s easier said than done.” 

Elijah had a restless spirit that found it terribly difficult to stop moving. He wasn’t Chayton’s first choice to go on a hunt, but when their father said take them both, he couldn’t refuse. 

After all that Ezekiel Gower had done to help Chayton over the years, treating him no differently to his other sons, there was nothing that Chayton wouldn’t do for his adoptive parents. They had opened doors for him that would never have been in his sights without them. 

“All right,” Chayton said with a smile. “We should get going before Elijah completely loses all control.” 

“Thank you,” Elijah said with exaggerated emphasis. “Finally!” 

Sam sat for a moment longer and then opened his eyes and turned to his brothers. He smiled warmly at Chayton and then turned a frown on Elijah. Without a word, he stood and picked up his rifle. 

“Alright, Chayton, where to?” Sam asked. 

“I think we should head out that way,” Elijah commented, pointing to the east. “It looks good that way.” 

“And how would you know?” Sam asked. 

Elijah shrugged. “I just don’t see why we always have to go whichever way Chayton says. Why don’t we ever get to choose the direction?” 

“Because we’d go walking for hours and never find so much as a rabbit,” Sam pointed out. 

Elijah sighed heavily. “That’s not necessarily true.” 

“Sure, it is,” Sam said, turning expectantly to Chayton. 

After a moment, Elijah also turned to face him and, with a mocking grin on his face, said, “So, which way, Oh Great Hunter, who always seems to magically know where the deer are?” 

Chayton pulled a face at his brother. He knew where to go. He always knew. It was a feeling that came to him in the stillness of sitting and waiting for the dawn. Something inside him would stir and he would know which way he had to go that day. 

Sometimes, most times, it led to a good hunt, but other times the feeling would lead him to something else. Once it had led him to a patch of wild strawberries and another time to a peach tree that had the best fruit, juicy and sweet. Once it had led them to a beautiful view of the countryside, but mostly it led them to hares or deer or turkeys. 

This day, the feeling was leading him in the direction of the nearest town from Hillside, where they lived. Graystone was a few miles away and although it was close, they never went there. 

Descending the hill, the brothers began their hunt. For the most, part they would walk. Chayton preferred walking to riding when it came to hunting. Being on foot made it easier to track animals, following their spoor in the grass. 

For hours, they walked until they came upon the tracks of a herd of deer. It was easy to follow them, and they were fresh, only about an hour old. Chayton and his brothers followed the tracks over the grass. They were heading into cultivated land now. There were fields of wheat and barley, blowing in the breeze. The deer walked around them, avoiding the places where man had changed the land. But they were still heading toward Graystone. 

“They went this way,” Chayton said, pointing to a copse of trees. 

Here, the brothers used more caution. With the trees acting as perfect cover for them and the deer, they moved slower, trying not to make a lot of noise. 

Sam wasn’t bad at moving quietly despite being tall and broad-shouldered. Elijah was shorter but stockier, and he seemed to have a knack for finding every twig in the forest that could snap loudly. 

Chayton, who was shorter, lighter and seemed to have been born with a silent tread, made next to no noise. He crept along ahead of his brothers following the signs the deer left in their wake. 

And then he saw them. The herd was nibbling the fresh green grass that grew under the trees. They were relaxed, happy, with the wind blowing his scent away from them, they had no idea that Chayton was there. 

For a while, he watched the herd. There were plenty of hinds with swollen bellies, ready to bring another generation into the world. Chayton would never shoot one of them. There were several young males as well, their velvet horns just coming in with the spring. 

Those he would ignore as well. He looked for the older deer, the ones that moved with trouble, the injured, the ones who were not essential to the herd’s continued well-being.

Sam and Elijah reached him and crouched beside him. 

Sam gestured, asking which one was the target. 

Chayton told him to wait a moment; he was still working that out. 

Sam nodded. 

Elijah, who still couldn’t sit still for long, began to shake his leg beside Chayton. It was a distraction that drew Chayton’s eye. That was when he first saw the bear. 

He was huge, fully grown, and he looked hungry. After a winter spent asleep, the bear had a lot of body fat to regain, and the herd had obviously wandered right into his path. 

Hunter and predator locked gazes for one heart thumping, adrenaline pumping moment and then everything seemed to happen at once. 

The wind shifted. 

A deer caught the scents on the air, his nose working like a bellows and then suddenly he let out a horn-like noise. Quick as a blink of an eye, the deer, all of them hopped, jumped, and ran in the opposite direction, dodging the trees with grace and ease. 

The bear, clearly upset by his dinner running off, turned on the hunters. He charged at them, roaring. 

Chayton pulled Elijah to his feet and pushed his brother, making him move. 

“Go! Go!” he yelled. 

Elijah hadn’t seen the bear. Turning his head to see what was wrong, his green eyes went wide, and then he began to move. Sam, who was on Chayton’s other side, took a moment to work out what was happening, and then he, too, was running off after the deer. 

Chayton ran. As he did so, he yelled, “Scatter!” 

The brothers all chose different directions, running at full speed, dodging trees, trying to get away. 

The bear could only follow one of them. That meant two would make it. 

The bear, sounding very angry at losing his meal, chose to run after Chayton. The two raced through the trees. Chayton was fast. He was light and built for running. He ran with his rifle slung over his shoulder. Turning and firing at the bear might make it stop chasing him, but it might also cost him his life if he stopped. 

There was another sound apart from his labored breathing and the panting of the bear behind him. It was the baaing of sheep. 

Sheep? 

And then he heard a voice, a woman’s voice, speaking to the sheep. 

Couldn’t she hear the bear? She had no idea what was happening. That was obvious. Now, Chayton would have to do something because he could see her through the trees as he ran. He could see the sheep. 

It had caught the scent and was running away, out from under the trees and into the bright sunlight beyond. Instead of following the animal, the woman was peering in through the trees. Could she hear them? Probably. 

 

Chapter One

Graystone, Oklahoma Territory

April 1890

The buckboard bounced, and Serena Hollingsworth clung to the side, screaming. She’d lost control. Barnaby, the horse in the traces, had seen something she hadn’t, something that scared him terribly, and he had bolted. Unfortunately for her, the buckboard remained harnessed to the horse, which meant she was along for the ride. 

Holding the reins and the side of the buckboard wasn’t working. It was almost impossible to hold onto anything, including her breakfast and the tea she’d had at Mrs. Peterson’s table not thirty minutes earlier. She bounced and banged onto the seat, terrified beyond words and thoughts. All she could do was scream and pray and hope she wouldn’t be thrown right out of the vehicle as it slammed into every dip and hole in the field. 

The horse ran. Perhaps in his horsey mind, he was running from the hounds of hell itself, although Serena had no idea what had spooked him so. One moment, they’d been going along pleasantly enough, and the next, he’d reared up, whinnied loudly, and then charged off across the field.

There was a subtle change. Was Barnaby slowing down? 

Surely, the darn horse couldn’t run forever. He was huffing and foam flecked the corners of his mouth. Whatever had scared him had been left in the dust far behind by now. Surely, he knew that somewhere in his mind. 

“Barnaby!” Serena yelled at the horse in the hopes that perhaps saying his name would remind him that there was a person behind him. “Barnaby! Stop!”

He didn’t. Of course he didn’t. But he did slow down. 

With the world no longer flying past at a dizzying speed, Serena managed to haul on the reins, and Barnaby finally came to a halt. 

On weak legs that didn’t feel like they belonged to her, Serena fell out of the buckboard and landed on the ground, stumbling a few paces away. Her stomach heaved and everything came up. It had to be all the jolting. Perhaps she was coming down with something. Her stomach hadn’t been its usual robust self lately. 

The sour bile taste in her mouth was horrible, but there was nothing she could do about it out here in the middle of nowhere. Sitting back on her haunches, she tried to get her bearings. 

Having moved out here only a year and a half ago, Serena still had trouble finding her way sometimes. It was easier on the tracks that had been scored into the grassland by many cartwheels and horse hooves. Out here in the fields, where there were no markings and only trees, bushes, and long grass around her, she was a little lost. 

“Where have you brought us to, Barnaby?” she asked the horse. As though he would answer. 

He stood placidly between the traces, nibbling the grass, looking for all the world as though he hadn’t just been a very naughty horse. 

Getting to her feet, a little unsteadily, Serena looked around some more, trying to get her bearings. 

That hill looked familiar. Was it the one she passed on the way to the Petersons’ farm? It might be but she couldn’t be sure, because she had the feeling that she had seen it from a different angle that morning when she headed out. 

Still, maybe heading back the way they had come might have been her best bet to find her way. She wished that Tim was still around. It was times like this that she really missed him. Her husband had passed away suddenly two months ago, and she was still dealing with being forced to run a farm on her own. 

But this was no time to be pathetic. She was a confident, capable young woman and she could handle this. 

Barnaby, a large chestnut gelding, allowed her to lead him around in a circle to face back the way they had come. He was as mild as milk. 

“That’s much better,” Serena said, patting his neck. “Hopefully, we won’t encounter whatever scared you earlier. I don’t think I can go through that again.” 

The horse shook his huge head as though to say he didn’t think she could manage that either. 

“Let’s go home, okay? Could we go at a decently slow pace? That would be wonderful.” 

The horse eyed her and snorted. Was that a yes or a no? 

Recovering the reins, which were dangling uselessly from the horse’s head, Serena climbed back up into the buckboard and soon was on her way again. She thanked her stars that Barnaby hadn’t chosen to go running off like that on the way to the Petersons’ farm. Then, she would have had a mess of preserves all over the back of the vehicle. She’d taken a couple of boxes of them to her neighbors as a gift. Mrs. Peterson used the preserves in her tarts and pies, and in a couple of days, a few of her excellent wares would make their way to Serena’s table and pantry, too. It was good arrangement. 

Although Serena could pickle, preserve, and cook, for some unfathomable reason, baking seemed to be a bit beyond her capabilities. Her cakes came out flat and her pies were thick and dense unless they were savory. It was a mystery. 

They set off, and Serena tried to work out which way to go and then, being utterly lost, she shrugged. “You know what? It’s your lucky day, Barnaby. Maybe you know which way to go. Take us home.” 

He flicked his ears at her and then set off in a direction. Serena became quite worried. What if the horse chose the wrong way? What if he didn’t actually know where home was? But he had lived here for a long time. Surely, he should know. What if he didn’t? Her chest tightened, and her stomach clenched. 

“Not again!” she told herself and forced the fear to subside. Being lost out here was not good, but eventually, she would have to find something that looked familiar. It stood to reason.

Her head was starting to ache. Serena considered that perhaps she was coming down with something. Stress. That was it. Losing a husband and inheriting a farm, she knew nothing about running was taking its toll on her. She should go to the apothecary and see if perhaps there was something he could give her to help her cope. 

Yes, in the morning, she would go, and things would be better. 

A couple of hundred yards later she realized that she needn’t worry about finding her way home. Once Barnaby found his bearings, he seemed to know exactly where he was and turned his head to home. It was a relief the moment Serena got her bearings, too, and knew that the horse had chosen the right way. 

The scenery became familiar. Suddenly, Serena knew where she was, and the tight feeling in her chest eased. 

Soon she came close to the land that she had inherited from Tim when he passed. It was open grassland here and sometimes she let the sheep and cattle graze there. Although they weren’t supposed to be there that day. They were supposed to be in the back pasture. 

Serena knew instantly that something had gone wrong at home. It was too much to hope that things would progress as normal while she was gone. Nothing ever went according to plan. 

When she got close to the farm, she saw the problem. The boundary fence had come down. It lay in the grass, and the sheep and cattle were spreading, unsupervised, all over the fields. There had been a tornado a couple of days earlier. It had cut a path through the open fields, but the wind had blown several branches from the trees into the fence posts, and although her farmhand, Charlie, said he had fixed them, he clearly hadn’t done it properly. 

Should she go after the sheep now? 

Serena considered this and wondered how she would do that. She didn’t know how to herd sheep. That had been Tim’s job. She could spin the wool into yarn and dye it all kinds of colors, but that didn’t seem of much use now. 

She would have to get Charlie, and he and his gnarled, arthritic hands would have to work it out. She would help, of course. His wife, Elsie, would also have to come and walk the fields. This would be a time when everyone needed to step up and get involved. 

When she finally came into the yard with the horse’s hooves thudding on the hard earth, Serena saw Charlie sitting in the shade, mending a hoe. He was fixing a new pole to the metal end. 

“Hello, Charlie,” she called as she reined in Barnaby. 

“Howdy,” he said. “How was the visit?” He looked up at her with his faded blue eyes, shielded from the world by a wave of silver-gray hair.

Serena slid down from the seat and walked over to him. “It was good. I was just wondering why the sheep and cattle were in the pasture in front of the farm.” 

Charlie looked at her blankly. “No, they’re not.” 

She raised a brow. “Bet you a dollar.” 

He sighed and stood up. “Those rotten critters! I swear…” The rest was inaudible as Charlie set to mumbling and grumbling as was his habit when he was upset. 

Serena sighed and patted his shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ll get Elsie, and we’ll all go and get the animals back.” 

He nodded but continued to grumble. 

Elsie was inside scrubbing the kitchen table. She was generally scrubbing something. Brushing her blonde hair, which was fading to white, out of her eyes, she regarded Serena. “You look terrible. Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine. I had a little trouble with Barnaby,” Serena said. She forced a smile. “We have to go and get the sheep and cattle.” 

Elsie tossed her scrubbing brush into the bucket on the tabletop beside her and sighed. “Where are they this time?” 

Serena told her. 

“I know that we can’t rightly afford it, but the moment we can, we’re going to need a young helper,” she said. “He’ll never admit it, but Charlie needs help.” 

Serena nodded. “I know, and we will get someone.” 

They left the house and headed down the drive to where the fence had fallen over. 

Elsie and Serena walked in silence. Thoughts of Tim hung in the air. It was impossible not to think of him at a time like this. Things would be different if he was still around. Serena wouldn’t have to make all the decisions on her own, for one thing. Being a small-town girl who had been raised by a seamstress, Serena was handy with fabrics but not good with farm life. 

Still, she did her best. 

“I fixed you!” Charlie yelled at the fence. He looked over at Elsie and Serena when they reached him. “I don’t know what happened.” 

Elsie inspected the down fence and looked thoughtful. “The cows most likely gave the fence a nudge before it was properly set, and it fell down,” she theorized kindly. “We should have put the animals in the back pasture.” 

“I thought we had,” Charlie said, scratching his head in dismay. “I must be losing my mind.” 

“No, we were all in a rush this morning,” Serena said kindly. “But let’s get them before they get themselves into trouble.” 

They spread out, and following Elsie and Charlie’s lead, Serena did her best to herd the sheep and cattle back to the farm. It was slow going. The animals were all stubborn and enjoying their freedom. The moment she managed to get some of them going in the right direction, the moment she tried to gather more of them together, they would wander in a different direction. 

“Just herd some of them this way,” Elsie said. “We’ll take it from there.” 

Serena did and soon things were going better. She felt she was making some actual progress. The sheep and cattle were gathering in a large group that was heading slowly back to the farm. Once there, Charlie took control of them and herded them around the house and into the back pasture. 

With the bulk of them being moved to safety, all that remained was to gather up the rest of the stragglers. Serena was tired, though, and wanted to get this done so she could put her feet up for a minute. It was hard to sleep well in a bed that was now empty except for her. It was oddly ironic that she had just gotten used to Tim’s snoring only for him to pass on suddenly. Now, the silence clanged in her ears, and she longed for the sawing rasp of his snores. Life was an odd thing. Farm life most of all. It certainly wasn’t for the faint of heart or the weak of stomach. 

Walking across the field to a sheep that had wandered near to a copse of trees she became aware of the birdsong. It was loud in the trees as though every bird in the area had chosen that moment to burst into song. 

The sheep stood in the shade of a tree, nibbling the green grass at its roots. She smiled and walked up to the animal. 

“All right, little fellow, let’s go home. The grass is just as green behind the fence as it is here.” 

The sheep ignored her. She patted its flank. 

“Come on.” 

It lifted its head and seemed to sniff the air. Or perhaps it was listening to something beyond her hearing because suddenly, the sheep turned and bolted back toward the farm. 

Serena stood for a moment under the tree, peering into the gloom under the trees. Was there something there? Was something moving toward her? 

Before she could see clearly or realize what was happening a young man came barreling toward her, pushing branches and things out of his way. 

“Run!” he yelled. His dark hair, brown eyes, and features spoke of Indian heritage, but he was dressed like a farmer. 

Too stunned to move, Serena just stared at the man. In a breath, he had reached her. 

Not bothering with niceties or introductions, he grabbed her arm, turned her around, and they were running. 

“Unhand me, sir!” she managed to gasp as he set a quick pace. 

“So long as you run!” he said, panting. 

“Why?” she asked. 

And then she heard it. The roar of a bear. It sounded as though it was right behind her. Serena screamed and began to run with more urgency. 

“Go this way!” she yelled to the young man. “My farm!” 

He nodded, and they headed back toward Charlie and Elsie, who were at the down fence. 

“Run!” Serena screamed at them. “Bear!” 

They nodded, and while herding the last of the sheep in front of them, they set off. 

Serena ran and ran. She was soon out of breath, scared almost out of her wits, and tiring fast. She couldn’t keep up the pace, not for long. Soon she would falter. 

Her legs gave out, and she went crashing to the ground. Pain shot through her left knee. 

The young man turned and bending down, lifted her up. He dragged her to her feet and then taking her hand he urged her to run. 

The bear was still roaring and grunting behind them. It was gaining on them. 

And then behind them came the sound of a sheep screaming. It cut off sharply and so did the roaring and snorting of the bear.