A Widow’s Refuge in the Rancher’s Arms (Preview)

Chapter One

Clara Hensley could cry, or she could scream. She could beg the party not to leave her and her twin boys out in cold wind with a bite as sharp as a whip, but what good would it do?

She let out a deep breath, glancing at Eli and Owen as they played in the snow. Five was a tender age, one where they understood she was upset, but they were soon lost to their own imaginations and more interested in playing than they were in the sharp tears that stung her cheeks.

She wiped them away as fast as she could, still not wanting to appear weak in front of them. “All right, boys, why don’t you go run for a few moments and warm up while we wait for Henry to come back?”

Though she tried to be cheerful, her gaze strayed toward the hill in the distance. She wished she could reverse time. Go back to the moment before her horse became lame. Before their guide, Henry, took the horse over the hill, the gunshot echoing across the open valley.

Henry came stomping back over the hill, his gun slung over his shoulder. His narrowed eyes were barely visible between his thick wool cap and the scarf pulled up over his mouth. With a heavy sigh, he stopped in front of her, gnarled fingers reaching up to pull the scarf down.

“You’re not going to be able to get a single horse to pull that buckboard over the mountain,” he said, his tone grim. One of the others might be willing to give you a ride.”

The folks gathered to one side of the road glanced at Clara, some of them looking at her before glancing at the twins, but none of them said anything. Not a single hand rose in the air to volunteer.

Clara forced a smile on her face but inside she was simmering with rage. She wanted to scream at the world for all that had happened, but taking the time to do that would only take time out of crossing over the mountain.

“My boys and I will travel on our own then.” She bit the inside of her cheek, glancing at the buckboard, loath to leave it behind. It was old, and it had taken nearly all the money she had left, but it was better than forcing the boys to walk.

It has taken us from Cheyenne to now, but if the horse cannot pull it, we cannot go on.

Henry cleared his throat. “We have no horses to spare.”

“Then what would you have me do with my boys?” Clara asked, deciding she wasn’t too proud to beg if it meant that her boys would be taken care of. “Please, there must be someone here who is willing to let us ride with them.”

An older woman stepped forward, her mouth set in a grim line. “Isnae the ride that’s the problem,” she said, her Scottish accent lilting. “Feeding ye would cost us greatly. My own would have to go with less.”

A burning sensation entered Clara’s eyes, but she fought it off. “The boys are only small. They don’t eat very much. And I will happily take much less so they can be fed. Please.”

The woman shook her head. “I’m sorry, bairn. I’ll pray for ye and yer wee ones.”

As the woman turned and went to whisper with some of the other families, Clara’s heart sunk in her chest. She turned to look at Henry, her chest tightening. It would be useless to beg the others. She could see that now. Between the way they looked at her when she spoke, and the way they glanced away if she dared to peek at them, it was hopeless. None of them cared.

And why should they? It’s winter. They have to do what’s best for their survival.

It was a bitter thought, and one that lingered with her as she looked at her boys. She sucked in a sharp breath as a man stepped forward. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple coins, holding them out to her.

“You might need this,” the man said, his voice gruff, his gaze flickering to hers before dropping to the ground. “I can’t offer much, but it should be enough to get you some food supplies.”

Clara took the coins. “Thank you, sir.”

With a nod, the man went to join the rest of the group, all of them starting to get back in their wagons and on their horses. It was clear that they were ready to move on without her.

“I’ll take what I can from the wagon,” Clara said, slipping the coins into her pocket and turning her attention to Henry. “Anyone who needs anything else may as well take it.”

Henry adjusted the grip on his gun, slinging the strap around his shoulder. “There’s a town about eight miles from here. Red Butte. Go southeast. You should see it once you’re about a mile off. Good people there. Might be someone who’s able to help you.”

“Thank you.” She let out a slow breath, the corners of her vision blurring.

Clara cleared her throat and stalked over to the buckboard, grabbing her satchel. She dumped out several sets of clothes, leaving only a change for herself and two for the boys. With the rest of the room in the bag, she dumped all the dried meat and crackers she could. The horse already had saddlebags with a thick blanket and a flint for starting a fire. She patted her pocket; grateful the folding knife was still there.

I should’ve bought a gun instead of a buckboard.

The knife would have to do. There was some rope in the saddlebags that she could use for snaring a rabbit or two as well.

Once her supplies were packed, she spotted the boys playing in one of the trees. Eli swung high in the tree, his mittened hands wrapping around a branch above him as if he was going to climb higher. Owen stood at the base of the tree; his hands tucked into his pockets and strands of his black hair peeking out from beneath his hat.

Her heart ached as she forced herself to put one foot in front of another, leading the horse over to the boys as the party left without them. Eli glanced at the wagons rolling away before looking down at her.

“Ma, where are they going?” Eli hopped down, snow flying up around his boots as they hit the snow.

“They’re going to keep traveling but I thought it might be nice to go see a town on the way,” Clara said, infusing as much of a cheerful tone as she could manage into her voice. “It’s going to be our next big adventure.”

Heading west was supposed to be the adventure. And the escape.

Clara patted the horse. “Come on, both of you up on Rusty.”

Owen was the first to stand beside the horse, his grin showing off a missing front tooth. “I want to ride in front.”

Eli groaned and shook his head. “You’re always telling me what to do when you ride in the front.”

“We’ll have you switch every hour,” Clara said, glancing at the slim gold watch on her wrist. It was the only thing she had taken from home when they ran, thinking it could be worth selling if it took her longer to get her inheritance than she anticipated.

Pursing his lips, Eli seemed to consider this while Clara lifted Owen up and settled into the saddle. Finally, Eli nodded and allowed her to help him scramble him up behind his brother. She breathed a sigh of relief; happy something was going her way for once.

“Now, why don’t you keep track of what we see on our journey and when we find somewhere to camp for the night, we can talk about it!”

Owen hummed happily to himself, some crass song she heard one of the men singing as he left camp the prior morning to go hunting. At least she didn’t think Owen remembered the words, otherwise he would be singing them. A tune, she could handle. Trying to teach her twins why you shouldn’t say certain words while also worrying about how they were going to start their new lives was more than she could handle.

I don’t know if we’re going to be able to get through the Rocky Mountains before the first snowfall.

Clara stared at the tracks the party had left before she turned southeast, taking Rusty by the reins, and walking them away from the plan she had. With each step she took, she tried to convince herself that faith would get her through, but since the death of her husband, Richard, the belief that this was all part of a greater plan had escaped her.

Eli groaned. “I want to get down and run.”

“Not right now.” Clara tucked her free hand into the pocket of her coat, trying to keep her fingers warm. “It’s cold and we need to move quickly and find somewhere safe to camp for the night.”

The sun was already starting to sink toward the horizon, the moon a little brighter. Gray clouds were floating across the sky, their bottoms dark. Clara looked around but there were only fields surrounding them. Hopefully whatever bad weather was coming would hold off for just a little while longer.

Owen stopped humming. “I’m hungry.”

Clara bit the inside of her cheek. “We’ll have something to eat as soon as we make camp.”

“When will we make camp?” Eli blew out a breath. “This isn’t fun, Ma. Please can I run?”

“Not right now.” Clara took a moment to count to ten before she lost her temper a little. She loved her boys more than life itself, but right then, she was nearing the end of her rope. “Once we stop to make camp for the night, you can run around all you want.”

For nearly an hour, there was nothing but silence. And then the first snowflake fell. Once the first one fell, another came down. The sky darkened, the wind howled. It should’ve been too early in the autumn for snow, but Clara was unsurprised. What was one more thing going wrong?

We’re going to get through this. We’re going to make camp, and me and the boys are going to tell stories, and everything is going to be fine.

The snow fell faster, a thin sheet of white starting to cover the world around them. She glanced at the boys, looking at the red glow to the tips of their noses. They’d have to find somewhere to settle soon.

Please, God, if you’re listening, let us find somewhere to settle.

She kept putting one foot in front of the other, the icy wind whipping as snow and the night settling in made it hard to see. And then, just like her prayers had been answered for the first time since having her sons, a building rose on the horizon.

Clara forced herself to lead them to the barn, hurrying faster than she had been as the wind howled through the trees on the other side of the field. She hauled open the broken door to the barn, wincing at the creaking wood.

As they stepped inside the titled barn, all she could do was hope they made it through the night without freezing.

Chapter Two

Jonas McCrae rubbed his leg, wincing as he put weight on it, the cold air making it ache. When he had joined the war years ago, he didn’t think he be paid for fighting Confederates with a Minié ball still stuck in his thigh.

Lydia clicked her tongue. “Jonas, really. You need to rest. It’s cold. If you keep pushing yourself, you’re barely going to be able to put weight on that leg tomorrow.”

He gave her a dry look, glancing out the window at the sun rising, streaks of pink and orange coating the sky. “I think about Thomas a lot on mornings like these.”

“You’re changing the subject.” Lydia sighed and put breakfast on the table, the steam rising from the bacon. “Do you think missing him is ever going to get any better?”

“No.” Jonas sat down, loading his plate with eggs and bacon from the platter. “Some days I think it’s only going to get worse, and the guilt is going to eat me alive. I was supposed to look after you and Thomas when Ma and Pa died. It was my job to make sure you both got settled with good lives.”

“He was eighteen and dumb,” Lydia said, though her eyes were glassy as she sat across from him. “And look at the mess he’s left behind with his choices. I’m twenty-two. I want to settle down too but none of the men in town are willing to look twice at me because of what Thomas did. And teaching the children in Red Butte? Well, I can just forget about that dream. None of the parents are going to want me around their children.”

Jonas bit off a chunk of the bacon, staring out the window, lost to the days when he would chase Thomas through the fields, the Wyoming Territory landscape stretching far, the mountains in the distance. He had only been twenty when their folks passed. Lydia and Thomas had been his responsibility from that moment on. Six years later, and they were still his responsibility.

And ever since the funeral, I’ve been failing them. Thomas most of all.

Stabbing some of the scrambled eggs, he arched an eyebrow at Lydia. “Caleb looks at you more than twice, does he not?”

Lydia dipped her head down, her cheeks turning red. “Well, I don’t think he does. He’s your friend, not mine.”

Jonas didn’t push the matter, but he had seen the lingering glances growing between the two of them whenever they were together. The last thing he wanted was to say too much and push his sister away. She was the only one he had left.

After a minute of silence seemed to stretch an eternity, Lydia sipped her coffee and set the mug to the side. “You can’t blame yourself for Thomas. He made his own choices. He’d been running with a rough crowd for months prior to his death.” She sniffled, tears in her eyes. “I tried to help him, Jonas. I tried to stop him, and I failed him. I couldn’t help him, even when I begged and pleaded with him to stay home. Thomas was determined to do what he wanted, and it breaks my heart, but it’s the life he chose.”

“And if I had been here instead of rotting away in some field hospital in Texas, I could’ve been helping you.” Jonas pushed his plate to the side, his appetite gone.

“You were recovering from being shot in the leg!” Lydia smacked her hand against the table. “You’re going to stop all this self-pity. You should be out there living your life. He sure wasn’t concerned about you being in that hospital in Texas. If he was, he would’ve gone there to see you come home. He would’ve been there by your side. But no. He was miserable here on the ranch and he made it known. You don’t know what I had to deal with when you were gone, Jonas, but there were times I wished I had been fighting in the war too.”

“You shouldn’t wish for something you don’t understand.” Jonas’ hands curled up tight, his knuckles aching.

“And you shouldn’t think that you being here would’ve changed anything.” Lydia finished her breakfast and got up, collecting the dishes in a basin to be washed when they returned from church. “Come along. We’re going to be late for church if you keep sitting here and moping.”

“You only want to see Caleb.”

Lydia gritted her teeth, throwing her hands in the air. “You’re impossible. You know that? I would think you were teasing me like you used to, except it’s been months since you so much as cracked a smile! You’re just trying to get under my skin because you feel guilty and want everyone else to be miserable too.”

“I don’t want you to be miserable.” Jonas stood and went to the door, tugging on his coat and boots. “But I don’t know how to pretend that I’m not.”

“Healing only starts when we stop pretending we’re fine.” Lydia got bundled up, her eyes lighting up as they walked out to the wagon he had hitched and brought to the door before breakfast. “You can’t be broken forever, Jonas.”

Though he knew she was right, it didn’t feel that way.

Not as they made the short ride into town, the sun shining bright but the air cold. As Jonas gripped the reins, all he could think about was the way he rode off for war without a care in the world. He thought everything was going to be fine at home. If he was being honest, he thought he would return from the war and nothing about his life would’ve changed.

It had been naïve of him, he thought ruefully, as they rolled into town and down Main Street to the general store.

Lydia sat up taller as they approached. Jonas stifled the urge to ask her if she was certain there were no feelings between her and Caleb, though he knew she wouldn’t tell him the truth. While he lived in the guilt of not preventing Thomas’ death, Lydia lived in the shame of the scandal and the rumors that followed it.

The door to the general store opened as Lydia was busy tucking a loose strand of her chestnut hair back into the knot at the nape of her neck.

“Morning!” Caleb said, hitching the horses to the post in front of the general store. “Thought we could all walk down together this morning?”

“You two go ahead,” Jonas said as Caleb helped Lydia out of the wagon, his hand lingering on hers for longer than Jonas wanted to see.

Was that a brush of his thumb over the back of her hand?

Caleb’s brows pulled together. “You’re certain?”

“Yes. I have to see to the horses for a moment. Thought I noticed a limp on the way down here.” Jonas was lying. The horses were in perfect condition and he knew it. He just didn’t want to intervene in Lydia’s life when it seemed like there could be something good waiting for her.

Even if he wasn’t sure about the thought of her and Caleb together, he cared for both of them. He wouldn’t stand in the way of what could be their potential happiness with each other.

For a moment, he stood there and watched them walk off, Caleb offering Lydia his arm and Lydia taking it. Their heads bent close together and it looked like they were speaking so quietly that the rest of the world just seemed to fade away.

He let out a deep breath. Caleb was a good man for Lydia to spend time with. He just had to keep reminding himself of that.

And if Caleb were to ever break her heart, Jonas would be there to put him in line.

Jonas shook his head, going to check on the horses, rubbing their noses for a few moments. It was easier to spend time with them than it was to walk into church and face what may come.

Deputy Frank Calder sauntered across the street from the sheriff’s office. “Jonas!”

“Deputy.” Jonas nodded to him, falling into step with him as they walked down the street. “How’re you?”

“Fine. Spent most of the morning wrangling some sheep that got out for Mrs. Fitzroy.” Deputy Calder sighed, rolling his shoulders back. “Been a cold morning. Looks like it’s going to storm later today.”

Jonas glanced up at the clouds starting to roll across the sky. They were mainly white, but the ones far in the distance carried an ominous tone with them. The bottoms were thick with the threat of snow.

“His brother was in that robbery,” a woman whispered as she walked by with her husband.

Jonas stiffened. This was the part he hated the most about coming to town. The way people looked at him and whispered. Even if Lydia thought people weren’t talking about them, they were.

“Heard he’s still injured from the war,” the husband said, not bothering to whisper as they couple reached the church at the end of the street, climbing up the stairs.

Frank scoffed. “You’d think people would be tired of the story already. It’s nothing more than rumors anyway. Nobody knows if Thomas was truly involved in the robbery or not.”

“You might be one of the few people in town who believes that.” Jonas took the stairs slow, the ache in his thigh making him grit his teeth.

***

When Jonas got back to the ranch, he breathed a sigh of relief. It was good to be home, away from the stares of so many people who thought they knew what happened in his life.

Lydia hopped down from the wagon. “I’m going to start making the roast. Is there anything in particular you want with supper?”

Jonas shrugged, glancing around the property before letting out a low whistle. “Maybe those potatoes with the bacon fat.”

“Easy.” Lydia disappeared inside as a bark came from around the corner of the house.

Buckshot came dashing around the corner, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth, his one eye shining bright. The ear he still had perked up a little as Buckshot pranced alongside the wagon.

“Let’s go stable the horses and then check on the old barn. Make sure it’s still standing and nobody has taken up residence there.” Jonas flicked the reins and the horses started trotting. Buckshot barked as if he agreed, running ahead before looping back.

Though the barn was old and falling over, he had found people in there several times. It was at the northwestern portion of his property, running close to one of the main roads people took while traveling between territories. While he didn’t mind if people needed to rest there, there was the matter of gangs on the loose near Red Butte. With Red Malloy still running around, Jonas was hesitant to not check.

The last thing he wanted was the man responsible for his brother’s death taking refuge on his property.

Jonas looked to the sky as he approached the stable, the clouds growing thicker, the wind getting colder, a bite that stung his cheeks. There was a storm rolling in, he knew that without a doubt.

And as the wind whistled through the trees, all he could do was hope he got to the old barn and back before the snow set in.

Chapter Three

Clara’s fingers were numb as she brought Rusty into the barn, the boys nearly falling asleep in the saddle. She led Rusty to one of the stalls, pleased to see what looked like fresh hay there. She hadn’t been expecting to find anything to keep them warm, but it would be better than nothing.

“Down you get,” Clara said, reaching up and helping the boys down from the horse. “Go into the next stall over. It looks clean. I’m going to get Rusty settled and then we will have something to eat.”

Eli and Owen shuffled off together, their heads hung low. Clara was grateful for a moment alone, finally letting her shoulders slump as she ran a hand down her face.

“We’re going to get through this, Rusty,” she said, her voice low enough the boys wouldn’t be able to hear her. “It’s going to be rough for a little while, but we’re going to get through this. We just have to get the money settled, which is taking longer than it should for who knows what reason.”

She took the saddle and bags off Rusty, putting both over the wall separating the stalls. As soon as the bridle was off, Rusty nudged her with his big head, making her laugh.

Taking the bucket hanging in the stall, she went outside and filled it with some snow. It wasn’t water, but it was better than nothing. She hung the bucket back up for Rusty, checking over the bag of hay hanging in the corner. Satisfied, she left his stall and locked the door, going into the next one.

As soon as she set foot in the stall with the boys, they jumped to their feet, their lips pinching into thin lines like they were already prepared to start arguing.

Moving quickly, Clara reached into the saddlebag and pulled out two little bundles of dried meat. She handed one to each boy, reaching back into the bag and taking out some hardtack for herself.

“Where are we going?” Eli asked as he settled down into the hay, opening his bundle and pulling out a stick of dried venison.

Clara bit the inside of the cheek. She had been going to Oregon with the boys, but after receiving a telegram saying the friend she was going to live with had passed away, the plan dissolved.

She shrugged, putting on a smile and trying not to seem upset about their lives falling apart. “I don’t know yet, but I think that’s part of the adventure, don’t you?”

Owen stared down at his food. “I miss Pa.”

“I do too,” Clara said, though the words had a false note, even to her. There were times when she missed Richard as well, but she didn’t miss the things he had done that had nearly torn her life apart on more than one occasion.

Eli shook his head, glaring at Owen. “You’re crying again. You have to stop being such a baby.”

Here we go.

Clara sighed. “Eli, be nice to Owen. If he needs to cry to express his feelings, then he is allowed to cry.”

“But crying makes you a baby.” Eli crossed his arms, a stubborn set to his jaw that reminded her so much of Richard that her heart ached a little.

“It does not!” Owen shouted, his little voice echoing around the empty barn. “You’re the baby!”

“Nobody is a baby.” Clara nodded to the food in their laps. “Eat up.”

Thankfully, the boys listened to her, their argument ending—at least for the time being—as they ate. When they were done, she settled them into the thick pile of hay in the corner, packing it around them to keep them as warm as possible.

Within a few minutes, the boys were snoring while the wind still howled outside. The walls shuddered but they held.

Clara glanced at her watch. It was still early in the evening. There was no way she would be able to sleep with everything going around in her mind, but she needed her rest. As she settled against one of the walls, pulling her thick, fur-lined cloak tightly around her, she stared at the boys.

Their mouths parted as they nestled close together, soft snores filling the stall. Rusty let out a soft breath, his hooves stomping against the ground for a moment before he settled. Clara nestled deeper into the hay as darkness surrounded them.

What do I do now? Where are we going to go?

Mariana had been their only choice in Oregon. She was going to take them in and then once Clara’s inheritance was released, she and the boys were going to go off and build their own lives. Now, that wasn’t going to happen. Tears slipped out of Clara’s eyes, leaving hot tracks down her cheeks but she was determined to hold them back.

She closed her eyes for just a moment, but it wasn’t long before sleep took her, exhaustion finally taking over.

When she awoke, it was to the sound of a low growl. Clara bolted upright, moving to put herself between the boys and the open stall door. In the darkness, all she could see was a glowing eye moving closer.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she scrambled, hand stuffing into her pocket to pull out the knife. She held it in front of her, her grip so tight her knuckles ached.

“Go away!” Clara hissed, trying not to wake the boys.

The growl came again, louder this time, the eye still getting closer.

“Ma,” Owen gasped, his hands fisting in her cloak as he appeared at her side. “What is it?”

Eli appeared on Owen’s other side, his eyes wide and the color drained from his cheeks. “Ma, what’s growling?”

Clara got to her feet, removing Owen’s grip from her and stepping closer to the animal. “I don’t want to hurt you, but you need to go now. You’re scaring my boys.”

Though her voice wavered, she took a couple steps closer, seeing one ear and a tail sprouting from the dog. It growled again, but she didn’t see the flash of its teeth in the dark. No, it looked like the dog was simply giving them a warning.

“It’s okay,” Clara said, trying to keep her voice soft to soothe the dog. Why am I trying to reason with an animal? “Be a good dog and go home. Me and my boys just need a place to stay for the night.’

“Buckshot, enough!” a man’s voice echoed through the barn.

Clara’s head whipped around, and there was the warm glow of a lantern’s light coming from the door, illuminating a man with broad shoulders, dark hair, and a strong jaw.

The dog wagged, the growling stopping, and it pranced its way over to the man as he walked deeper into the barn. The closer he got, the more Clara could see of him, the curiosity in his green eyes and the hard set to his mouth.

“What are you doing in my barn?” the man asked, his tone low and gravelly. His gaze dropped to the knife. ‘You can put that away. I’m not going to hurt you.””

Clara’s hand shook, the blade catching the light and shining. She stared at the man for a moment longer before slipping the knife into the sheath in her pocket. “I’m sorry.”

He eyed her before glancing back at the horse behind her. When his gaze locked on hers again, there was a slight flutter in her chest. He cleared his throat. “Sorry still doesn’t tell me what you’re doing in my barn.”

“My boys and I got lost. We needed somewhere to stay with the storm that came in. Please, we don’t mean to trespass, but they’re only young children. We can’t go back out there in the snow. I promise, we’ll leave in the morning, and you’ll never know we were here.”

Her chest heaved as she finished rushing the words out, lungs squeezing tight. There was no way of knowing how the man in front of her would react. His face was a blank mask, not even a shift of an eyebrow or a widening eye to show what he was thinking.

Please, be a kind man. Allow us to stay here for just one night.

“Ma?” Eli asked as he poked his head out of the stall.

“Not now,” Clara said, her tone soft as she looked at him only to see Owen hovering close at his side. “Why don’t both of you rest for a moment?”

The boys didn’t move, both of them looking at the dog, their eyes wide and their faces pale. She wished she could scoop them up and tell them everything was going to be fine, but her feet were rooted to the spot between them and the man.

When the man’s gaze dropped to the boys, something in his eyes softened.

Maybe there was a chance he would let them weather the storm in the barn.