I swallowed. No doubt the security Mrs. Whittaker was offering me would not come cheap. But I would pay it willingly. “How much do I pay you?”
Mrs. Whittaker shook her head. “Nothing. Mr. Mallone has already paid more than enough. He has sent money for a train ticket, too.” For the first time, Mrs. Whittaker smiled. “I hope you find happiness, Elise. I know life hasn’t been easy for you.”
How did she know that? I opened my mouth to speak but Mrs. Whittaker shook her head, silencing me. “It’s my business to know,” she told me. “This is what I do. You will be fine.”
I squared my shoulders, took a deep breath, and repeated Mrs. Whittaker’s words over and over in my head. I will be fine. I will be fine. Mentally, I listed the things I would need to take with me to my new life. There wasn’t much I wanted, it would all fit in one suitcase. I settled back in the chair in Mrs. Whittaker’s parlour to wait until it was time to go and pack my things and sadness welled up within me. Tomorrow morning I would be leaving behind the only place I had ever known and I wasn’t even able to say goodbye.
3 weeks later…
The whistle blew, startling me, and the train pulled into the station. Quickly, I tucked the likeness that I had been staring at back into my valise and stood. A few of us disembarked, and I looked around expectantly for Coleton, as the porter retrieved my suitcase. I couldn't see him. There were people everywhere; men, women and children filling the wooden boardwalks, horses and carriages riding down the wide, dusty street. But none looked anything like the stern but good-looking man burned into my memory.
Soon, the train moved off and the passengers dispersed, leaving me alone on the platform. Coleton was nowhere to be seen. I tapped my foot impatiently. Had he forgotten I was coming? Surely not! The letter he had wired before I had left assured me he would be there. We were to stand before the preacher and be married before we journeyed to his ranch to begin our new life together. His words had been full of hope, excitement, and promise. It was inconceivable that he had forgotten me. No, he was just behind. He would be here soon, I reassured myself.
I tilted my head to the sun, shifting my bonnet back slightly so I could feel the gentle breeze on my face, and waited. And waited.
I looked around, surveying my surroundings. Although there were a lot of people and buildings and businesses, Butte was a smaller town than I expected. Much smaller than Philadelphia, anyway. Beyond the town was nothing but rugged wilderness, with mountains visible in the distance. Already I was homesick for the buildings and crowds of home.
As time wore on, my foot got tired of tapping, and I feared that he had, indeed, forgotten. Then, with a little gasp, my hand flew to my mouth. What if he had changed his mind? No! Perish the thought! Perhaps he did not wish for me to be his wife anymore? Perhaps he had somehow discovered my little deception? I had to find out.
But first, I would need to eat. I looked around. I had to go somewhere close for I could not carry my heavy suitcase far. The closest place I could see was a saloon. As I watched, a well-dressed lady went inside, on the arm of a gentleman. It must be a respectable enough establishment if women were among its patrons. It would have to do.
I entered, then ordered my meal and ate quickly, not wanting to waste any more of the day, then I approached the keeper of the saloon. Perhaps he could help me hire a buggy and point me in the direction of Coleton's ranch.
The piece of paper the name of his ranch was written on had gotten crumpled in my valise. I spread it out on the bar and smoothed it out as best I could, but it was still difficult to read. Luckily, he could read enough of it to know the ranch. And he knew Coleton.
I held my breath for a moment as a frown passed over the barkeep's face. He looked down at the paper, then at the ground, then at me. He cleared his throat.
"I'm sorry miss, but Coleton Mallone is dead."
My heart plummeted. I felt all the color drain from my face. I was alone in the Montana Territory. A widow without ever having met my husband.
2
SHANE
“Will you look at that!"
I looked up at Roscoe's shout and followed where his finger was pointing. A runaway horse, with a buggy bouncing along behind, was streaking across the prairie. A woman, her fair hair flying out behind her, was struggling to control the runaway, standing precariously in the jolting contraption, tugging on the reins, screaming at the top of her lungs.
"With that racket, it's no wonder the horse bolted," I commented, but I didn't miss a beat as I kicked my mount into a gallop alongside Roscoe. No matter the reason for her predicament, the damsel needed to be rescued before she fell out and hurt herself.
Reckless! That’s what she was. Standing up in an out-of-control buggy like that, with no care for her safety at all. What did she think she was doing? She could die. As we pushed our horses to catch up with her, I knew I couldn’t watch another woman die.
Following Roscoe’s lead, I galloped up one side of the runaway horse while Roscoe came up the other. We both leaned far out of the saddle, reaching for the reins, gently easing the
