A Shelter for Her Broken Heart (Preview)

Prologue

The shrill whistle of a distant locomotive pierced the stillness of the night and set Eliza Kincaid’s heart pumping in double time. The train would be there in just a few minutes, and she wasn’t ready.

She was never ready to do what she was forced to. But, as her brother repeatedly reminded her, it was the only way for them to survive right now.

A heavy hand clapped Eliza’s shoulder, and she flinched, her grip tightening around the hilt of the pistol she concealed in her long skirts.

“Feelin’ jumpy?” a low voice breathed in her ear. Boone Clemens—notorious gang leader and violent criminal. Her boss. Her soon-to-be husband, if he had his way.

A chill swept through Eliza, but she tried not to let it show. She tried not to move, not even an inch. The few other people standing on the platform at the station paid no attention to her and Boone. Most were probably just waiting for their loved ones to arrive on the new-fangled transportation. The stone in Eliza’s stomach grew heavier at the thought of these fine folks coming to any harm.

“Remember,” Boone hissed, “just play yer role, Eliza, like we practiced. Take all you can, then get on a horse and high-tail it back to camp.”

Eliza gave him a barely perceptible nod as she peered at the trees on the other side of the tracks. The rest of the gang, her brother Gabe included, lay in wait amongst them, some on foot, some on horseback. All ready to strike.

The chugga-chug of the train grew louder with each breath Eliza took, punctuated only by another whistle as it neared the station. This would be the first time she’d board a train, since it had only been coming to the area for a little more than a year. Though the 1890s had just begun, Eliza was already witnessing some radically innovative changes. She couldn’t imagine how the future would look, except that hers would be very bleak.

Boone put his hands on her upper arms and spun her so that she faced him. Hatless tonight, with his face shaved and his graying hair slicked back to fit the part of a high-falutin’ horse wrangler, he almost looked civil. Except no amount of grooming could hide Boone’s wild, wicked soul. His dark eyes gleamed with anticipation in the dim light of the oil lamps scattered around the train platform, and his upper lip curled into a sneering smile. He was actually excited for the havoc he was about to cause.

“You do what I told you to do,” he said, “and yer reward will be gettin’ hitched to me.”

Eliza recoiled as he leaned so close to her she could smell his foul breath, so close that his red, bulbous nose brushed against hers. She tried to wriggle away, but Boone only squeezed her arms harder until she went still from the pain.

“Make me happy tonight, Eliza, and I’ll make you happy for the rest of your days,” he promised. Coming from him, that was a threat. Life as the wife of Boone Clemens would be torturous and terrifying, just as it was working for him.

“I don’t want to marry you,” Eliza murmured, just loud enough to be heard over the oncoming train.

“But you will,” Boone snarled. He was used to her trying to reject him by now, but he only cared about what he wanted, not anyone else’s desires. “And you will rob these travelers for part of your dowry. Or you’ll end up as buzzard food.”

The last few words were drowned out by the squeal of brakes and clanking machinery, but Eliza got the point. She didn’t need to be told multiple times what he’d do to her if she didn’t obey him. Wrenching herself free from his grip, she pulled up the hood of the wool cloak she wore, hiding her dark brown hair. Once she was somewhat disguised, she waved her arm in the air to look like she was greeting a friend or family member.

The plan was that she and Boone would board a passenger car together, as if they were so anxious to see their loved one they couldn’t wait for them to get off. Then Boone would create a hold up, and Eliza would rob everyone on the train of their valuables while the rest of the gang subdued the conductor and security and emptied out the cargo.

Eliza had thought long and hard about how to subtly bungle this job like she’d done before in the past, but a train robbery was a lot more complicated than holding up a general store or even a bank. Besides, she knew Boone didn’t give empty threats. If she messed this up—the biggest job the gang had ever tried since Gabe made her join four years ago—their leader wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.

Trying to swallow the lump of fear in her throat, Eliza stopped running as the train slowed. She glanced at the misty plumes of smoke as the locomotive passed her, then cringed as Boone slipped an arm around her waist.

“Here we go,” he said, as a car full of shadowy figures came to rest right in front of them.

A whoop and a holler resounded from the other side of the train. Eliza surmised that Gabe and the other dozen members of the gang were riding out from the shelter of the trees.

This was it, then. She took a deep breath and pulled her gun out of the folds of her skirt. Even as she did, she prayed she wouldn’t have to use it.

As soon as the porter opened the door to the first-class passenger car, Boone yanked the man’s jacket and pulled him out on the platform. Eliza quickly clambered up into the chaos of the car. The passengers, tipped off early by Boone’s unnecessary violence and the shouts from the other gang members up front, were scrambling around each other, shrieking with terror.

Eliza raised her pistol, and a woman screamed.

“Ever’body freeze!” Boone yelled. He stood behind Eliza, arms outstretched on either side of her. In each fist he clutched a double-barreled Derringer—his most prized possessions—that he’d stolen off another outlaw a couple of years back.

All of Eliza’s nerves sparked as Boone ordered the passengers to hand over their coins and jewels. Hands shaking, she moved down the narrow aisle, her head shadowed by the hood of her cloak, holding out the sack tied around her waist so the travelers could dump their valuables inside.

It was hard to watch all the passengers while also keeping her head down so no one would be able to clearly identify her. The men glared at her, and several women were crying. One finely-dressed woman begged her not to hurt them, and Eliza’s heart swelled with sympathy.

“No one will get hurt,” she said, “if you just empty your pockets.” She’d uttered these same lines before, to other innocent folks, and felt horrible about it each time. It had always been her principle to only rob those who deserved it or could afford it, if she had to rob anyone. At least these travelers appeared to be wealthy.

A necklace was tossed into her sack, followed by a couple of handfuls of coins, a few purses and wallets, and even a lone bank note. After each person had given up their valuables, Boone ordered them to get off the train. Some obeyed, while others ducked down in fear, probably hoping this would all be over soon. Eliza hoped the same.

A glint of silver caught her eye, and she glanced at the pocket-watch chain looped across one man’s pinstripe vest. It was a nicely crafted accessory and would fetch a good price.

“Your pocket watch, sir,” Eliza said, holding the sack open.

When the man didn’t immediately remove it, she raised her pistol and pointed it at his chest. He didn’t seem scared at all, probably because he could see the apology in her eyes. Try as she might, she could never get down the sinister stare of a hardened criminal.

A couple of shots rang out from up near the locomotive, and the man blinked and glanced down at her gun. Take that as a warning, Eliza tried to say with her gaze, though she hoped no innocent person had been killed.

“Hurry up, Pixie Pie!” Boone said between gritted teeth. That was supposed to be Eliza’s code name during jobs, given to her by Gabe. He said her small stature and big hazel eyes reminded him of a pixie, and the name was cute, but she hated it.

“Please, sir,” Eliza told the man with the pocket watch.

It had only been a few minutes since they’d boarded the car, but the authorities came quickly around these parts. Their base wasn’t far from the train station.

The man began to unhook his pocket watch slowly. A droplet of sweat made its way down Eliza’s spine, and she willed herself to keep a tight hold on her gun.

The door at the opposite end of the car opened, and Boone immediately trained his Derringers on the uniformed expressman who stood there.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he said. “Don’t take another step.”

The expressman began to put his hands up, but suddenly crumpled to the floor of the car. Behind him stood Gabe, holding a rifle straight up and down. He must have used the hilt of it to knock the man out.

“There you are!” Gabe said, grinning broadly despite the situation. More than ten years older than Eliza and he still acted like a young boy. He enjoyed the thrill of being an outlaw. She’d always assumed it would be the death of him, and probably herself, since he’d gotten her involved with the Clemens Gang after their father died.

Eliza was just about to urge Mr. Pocket Watch to go faster when she felt the rumble of machinery beneath her feet.

“We gotta go,” Gabe said, running a hand through his tangled hair, just a shade lighter than Eliza’s.

“Already?” Boone asked.

But before Gabe could respond, the train lurched forward. The movement caused Eliza to pitch to one side, and the man with the pocket watch took the opportunity of her lowered gun to grab her, spin her around, and wrap the chain around her throat. Using her as a shield. Taking her as a hostage.

All the air fled from Eliza’s lungs as Boone shouted, “No, ya don’t!”

“Let her go!” Gabe said from behind her.

Eliza’s eyes flickered back and forth from Gabe’s raised rifle to Boone’s twin Derringers. She was trapped between deadly weapons, struggling to breathe while a slim silver chain was pressed against her skin. Her own hand, still clutching her pistol, was pinned tightly to her side.

Inspired by Mr. Pocket Watch, some of the other passengers began to fidget, no doubt eager to help him fight. Eliza watched helplessly as a man in a bowler hat moved toward Boone. Unable to warn him, a big part of her realized she wanted him to get caught anyway. She wanted him out of her life.

Maybe Bowler Hat could hear her thoughts because he shoved all his weight against Boone, and the passenger car erupted into chaos. A trigger was pulled, then another. Pocket Watch suddenly released her and dropped like a sack of potatoes. Gabe grabbed her arm and began dragging her toward one end of the car while Eliza gulped in air, tasting the tang of gunpowder.

She glanced back to see Boone punching a man in the face. A bowler hat went flying and landed in front of the finely-dressed woman who had begged Eliza not to hurt them. She was standing there in the aisle, seemingly frozen in fear, her eyes wide and her honey-colored hair falling loose of its pins.

Eliza wanted to yell at her to get down, but her voice was caught. Her lungs burned.

As Gabe yanked her through the door, Boone let out a great roar and began firing his Derringers wildly. The shots were almost as deafening as the shrill scream that chased Eliza out into the night. Neither could mask the sickening thud of a body hitting the floor of the car.

No, Eliza thought. No, no!

Her own legs collapsed as soon as she and Gabe hit the platform.

“Get up!” her brother yelled in her ear.

No.

Gabe clutched her arm in one hand and his rifle in the other, though Eliza was hardly aware of him at this point. Her mind was addled, her heart beating so rapidly, she feared it would explode right out of her chest. She had promised the woman no one would get hurt. She had promised…

“Come on!”

No, no, no.

She couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t threaten people’s lives anymore. Couldn’t watch anyone else die.

“Eliza!” Gabe shook her, and behind him, she saw Boone exit the other end of the car.

“No,” she finally said aloud, though it came out as a wheeze. She couldn’t go with him again. Couldn’t go back to the outlaw camp. Couldn’t marry Boone Clemens.

“What?” Gabe said. In answer, three shots were fired in rapid succession. The sheriff’s warning.

With a new surge of will, Eliza scrambled to her feet. Gabe loosened his hold on her and looked relieved that she was finally coming to her senses.

But she wasn’t going with him.

The train was chugging away from the station now, gaining speed with each second. She had to hurry if she wanted to be on it.

Jerking her arm free of Gabe’s grip, Eliza rushed toward one of the non-passenger cars coming into view.

“Eliza, stop!” Gabe bellowed, forgetting to use her code name in public. His shout was followed by one from Boone.

“No!” Eliza yelled back.

She wouldn’t obey either of them any longer. Wouldn’t do what they wanted ever again.

Judging the distance as best as she could from the station platform to the connecting steps between two cars, she forced herself on, even as she heard the slap of footsteps behind her. Whether it was Boone or Gabe or one of the lawmen, she didn’t turn her head to find out. She only looked forward.

And she leaped.

What she’d forgotten about was the weight of the sack filled with valuables tied around her waist. She managed to grip the wrought-iron rail, but her feet didn’t reach the bottom step. Eliza hung on as tight as she could, her well-worn boots getting even more scuffed up as they dragged along the tracks. The hood of her cloak had fallen off, and her curls blew in her face as the train moved.

Arms straining, she managed to pull herself up, her left foot gaining a purchase first, then her right. By the time she was fully crouched on the landing between the cars, clutching the railing as a lifeline and trying to get her heartbeat under control, the train had long passed the station. Eliza didn’t even get a last glimpse of the only family member she had left. The only town she’d ever known.

But she couldn’t worry about that now. She needed to hide.

Or…

Eliza glanced down at the sack around her waist, wondering if any of the wallets or purses contained a ticket. If so, she might be able to use it, as long as it belonged to someone who had disembarked from the train. As long as she wasn’t recognized.

“Here we go,” she whispered to herself, echoing Boone’s words from a few moments before. A few terrible moments that decided her fate from here on out.

She would travel as far away as she could. Far away from anyone who knew the name Eliza Kincaid and the harm she’d helped cause. Far away from her past.

She only hoped her future would be filled with a lot less trouble.

Chapter One

There were four men in the saloon when Joshua Halston shoved his way past the swinging doors, but he knew exactly which one he wanted. The heels of his boots struck the wooden floorboards as he stomped across them, causing the patrons, the saloon girls, and even the piano player to go silent.

With purpose, Joshua strode over to the stool where a man with dusty, shoulder-length hair and a tangled beard was sitting.

“That’s him,” he said to Sheriff Spencer Bradshaw, who had followed him inside and stood next to him, tall and authoritative. “That’s the thief. I watched him cut the saddlebags right off a horse in the barn.”

“Must be the one robbing the nearby ranches,” the sheriff said. “Come on then, get up.”

The man didn’t even have time to obey before he was hauled off the stool, and cuffs were slapped on his wrists.

“Wait, wait,” the man said. “That wasn’t me. I didn’t steal nothing!” Yet his pockets were weighed down so much, his pants were barely staying up around his waist.

“Then where’d you get this coin, Burnsey?” said the saloon girl behind the bar, holding up a shiny coin and squinting at it with one eye. “Don’t tell me you magicked it out of the air.”

“Okay,” Burnsey gave in. “I took the saddlebags. But I didn’t go to no ranches.”

“Sure you didn’t,” Sheriff Bradshaw said.

Joshua gave him a knowing look. The two had been close friends since they were boys, and they shared a common mistrust of most people. Of course, that quality tended to be a benefit for someone who was a sheriff, but it didn’t always help a widowed rancher like Joshua. Still, you could never be too careful or aware.

Burnsey insisted on his innocence as he was led out of the saloon by Spencer. Joshua almost felt sorry for the unfortunate man, but thieving was wrong, no matter how in need you were. You just didn’t take things from other people.

“Well,” sighed the saloon girl, tossing the stolen coin to Joshua. “Maybe he’ll dry out in prison.”

Joshua palmed the coin, then pulled a few of his own from his pocket and laid them on the scratched surface of the wooden bar.

“What can I get for you?” asked the girl.

Joshua just tipped his hat at her before turning to leave. He didn’t want a drink right now. He only wanted justice.

Outside, the air was chilly, and he walked briskly past the barbershop and bank, both of which were closed for the evening. The October days were getting shorter and shorter. And colder and colder. Unwillingly, he invited a gust of icy wind into the jailhouse when he opened the door.

“Winter’ll be here before we know it,” Sheriff Bradshaw said. He was sitting behind the tall counter, upon which rested his wide-brimmed hat. With his blonde hair exposed, he looked every bit the fun-loving boyhood buddy Joshua remembered playing with twenty-five years ago. He’d never imagined that Spencer would one day become the stern, serious sheriff of Trenton, Colorado. Never imagined it in a million years. Yet there they were, grown men, both of them just past thirty years of age.

“You got that right, Spence,” Joshua told his friend.

He tossed the coin to the sheriff, who dropped the stubby pencil he was holding to catch it.

“Thanks for your help with Burnsey,” Spencer said. “I’m glad to have an eyewitness to his thieving so we can keep him here for a bit.”

At least he’ll be out of the cold, thought Joshua. “You think Burnsey’s the one who’s been hitting up the local ranches?”
“He claims he isn’t. And it’s hard to believe someone like him would trek for miles through the wilderness from ranch to ranch just to take a few eggs and some tools. I’m sure a hobo’s just passing through and snatching what they can.”

“Maybe,” Joshua mused. Nothing valuable had been taken from his ranch or from his neighbors, but the thought of someone prowling around his property was enough to put him on edge. He wanted the criminal caught, which is why he’d been coming to town more lately and watching people closely.

Besides, there weren’t enough deputies to patrol the area, especially as Trenton grew in size. Joshua couldn’t afford to work for the sheriff full time, what with his large homestead to run, but he liked to help out whenever he could. The more bad men put behind bars, the better. It meant they wouldn’t be free to harm innocent folks.

“So,” Spencer said, “how you been holding up, Josh? How’s Freddy doing?”

“As good as can be,” Joshua said, rubbing the back of his neck. Last night, his son hadn’t even cried out in his sleep once. “He’s not having nightmares as often as before.”

“That’s a good sign,” Spencer said. “Tell him his favorite uncle will come to visit him soon.”

Joshua chuckled softly. His late wife, who’d been Spencer’s sister, was the only one of the two of them who’d had a sibling. “You mean his only uncle.”

“Yeah.” Spencer tapped the end of his pencil against the desk, looking lost in his thoughts for a brief moment. Then he sat up straighter and flashed Joshua his familiar crooked grin. “You know, Cathy Jean Gallagher has been asking about you lately.”

“Oh? You don’t say.” Joshua groaned.

“She seems to be quite interested in you.”

“Well, I’m not interested in her. Or any other woman for that matter.”

Spencer nodded his sandy head, then shrugged his shoulders. “You know, there’s a lot of fine ladies that could be a good companion to you, Josh.” His tone was light, but the suggestion still irked Joshua. Spencer should know better.

“I don’t want another companion right now.” Joshua looked at his friend with a firm expression until the sheriff put up his hands in mock surrender and gave a little grunt. He had to understand better than anyone that Joshua wasn’t ready to take another big step like that. Least of all with Cathy Jean Gallagher.

A silence thick with the weight of the grief both men carried seemed to fill the front room of the jailhouse. It was starting to feel stifling, and Joshua wanted out. He knew he could talk to Spencer about anything, but he just didn’t want to keep dwelling on what he’d lost. It didn’t do him, or his son Freddy, any good.

“Listen, Spence, I’ve got to get home.”

“It’ll be dark soon,” Spencer agreed. “Thanks again. And be careful.”

“Always.”

True to his word, Joshua remained alert as he mounted his horse and led it through town. Dusk was just starting to fall, and the street had a sort of hazy quality, as if he was viewing everything through a cheesecloth that was placed over his eyes. The result was kind of eerie.

The piano music and belly laughs from the saloon and the clang of the blacksmith’s hammer soon gave way to the sounds of night in the wild as Joshua’s reliable horse clip-clopped out of town. Crickets began their symphony, and an owl and a bullfrog competed for best solo.

Joshua took his time, appreciating the land and all its nocturnal residents. Though it was growing darker by the minute, the moon was out and shining brightly. And he was in no hurry to get back home. He greatly needed the moment of peace only the wilderness could give him.

With that in mind, he decided to cut through the woods that acted as a border between his own property and his neighbor’s. It was vast, and the trees would obscure the moonlight, but Joshua wanted to wander through that other world for a while and discover some of its secrets. Forests, especially in the late evening, had a mysterious quality about them. You could lose yourself in the depths, at least until you wanted to find the right path out.

For Joshua, there was also something protective about the woods, particularly this one, with its sheltering blue spruces and towering oaks. Pine needles acted as a carpet on the forest floor, tamping down most of the scrub brush that would have otherwise grown there, allowing his horse to pick its way just fine along the natural paths.

Emptying his mind, Joshua rode through the trees, leaning slightly as his horse weaved this way and that. He even removed his hat and closed his eyes at one point, letting his other senses take in his surroundings. He breathed in the fresh, earthy scent; listened to the soft rustle of leaves; felt the cool wind run its fingers through his chestnut hair. He was imagining what the wind would whisper to him if it could speak, when he heard a twig snap.

Joshua’s eyes flew open, and he twisted his head in the direction of the sound. He thought he glimpsed some movement between the trees. Many predatory animals came out at night to hunt for their food. It could be a bear, coyote, or wolf, even a mountain lion, though they didn’t usually come down into the valley this far.

His horse didn’t seem to be spooked, so perhaps it was just a squirrel. He was about to shrug it off when there came another snap of a twig. This one was louder, closer.

Pulling the reins to bring his horse to a halt, Joshua peered through the trees and saw a flash of white. He heard the swish of fabric. Not an animal, then.

“Hello?” he called. “Who’s out there?”

No one answered him, but Joshua was certain there was a person in the woods. It could be his neighbor, Walter Yates, out hunting coyotes that came after his chickens. But Walter would surely have answered Joshua’s call.

Putting his hat back on, Joshua dismounted from his horse and whispered for it to stay put. Then, he began creeping through the forest, careful to dodge any fallen branches.

A wisp of white darted between two trees, ghostlike, and Joshua blinked. Just who was wandering around in the woods at this time of night? Was it the thief they’d been looking for the past few weeks?

Or had he imagined the specter? Maybe he was just overtired.

Then came a soft thud, followed by a high-pitched squeal. Joshua rushed forward, side-stepping around spruce trees until he finally came into full view of the phantom of the forest.

Only it wasn’t a phantom, but a young woman, bending over and brushing off the skirt of her stained, torn muslin dress. Besides that, she only wore a cloak over her shoulders; her head and hands were bare.

“What are you doing?” he asked, and her body jerked in surprise.

Standing straight up, she turned to face him, her round eyes glistening in the moonlight filtering through the trees.

Joshua forced himself not to stagger backward, for she did indeed look like a wraith now that he got a good look at her. She was young, pale, and slender, with thick brown hair piled haphazardly on her head, a twig sticking out from one side. Though she was trembling, probably from the cold, he could also see that she was strong. And very brave to be journeying through the woods in the dark. Brave or foolish.

“I don’t mean to scare you, but what are you doing out here?” he repeated, more gently this time. “Are you lost?”

She shook her head, clasping her arms around her middle to keep in warmth. “I’m just…looking for berries,” she said. Her voice sounded a little scratchy, as if she hadn’t spoken aloud in a long time.

“At night?”

She didn’t respond, just wavered on her feet as if exhausted, though she kept a wary eye on him.

“Do you…live around here?” Joshua asked. He knew full well that she didn’t, but he had no clue what else to ask her.

“Visiting a friend,” she explained, glancing around. “I’ve got to get back to her.”

“What friend?” Joshua asked, narrowing his eyes.

Her gaze flicked to her feet. “Nancy. She’ll be looking for me.”

Joshua put his hands on his hips. There was no one named Nancy in these parts that he knew of. First or last name. The woman was lying to him.

Before he could confront her further, she flipped up the hood of her cloak and turned on her heel to disappear between the trees, the white of her dress leaving a lingering image in his mind. Joshua felt compelled to go after her, for she looked like she was in need of some help, but then he thought better of it. Perhaps she was one of the thieves, meant to lure unsuspecting passersby into an ambush where they’d be robbed.

Or perhaps she was just a figment of his imagination. He wasn’t much of a daydreamer, but after all he’d been through lately, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

Either way, he found himself thinking about her as he walked back to his obedient horse. He found himself wanting to learn more about her, like where she was from and who she was, and how she ever came to be here, at the base of a mountain, in the woods just off his property, floating around like a spirit. A benevolent or sinister spirit, he found he didn’t quite care. He just wanted to see her again.