A Whiskey River Princess Š 2018 by Theresa Oliver All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any written, electronic, recorded, or photocopied format without the express permission from the author or publisher as allowed under the terms and conditions with which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author. A Whiskey River Princess is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events and places found therein are either from the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons alive or dead, actual events, locations, or organizations is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author. For information, contact the publisher, Hot Tree Publishing. www.hottreepublishing.com Editing: Hot Tree Editing Cover Designer: RMGraphX ISBN:
To those who seek adventure‌ may you find magic in your lives.
Chapter 1
November 1870 New York, New York
“Next?” a gruff man asked Gabriella Grimaldi as she stepped up to the ticket window at the train station in New York. Gabriella looked at him for a moment, not sure what to do. “Where to?” She quickly recovered herself and raised her chin, clutching a large carpet bag with a few dresses and personal belongings inside. It wasn’t much, but it would be enough to sustain her until she could make other arrangements. Knowing that she would have to leave at a moment’s notice, she had prepared the bag and stashed it out of the way until the time was right.
“I’d like a ticket to Wyoming, please.” She winced, realizing how different she sounded, how much her French accent set her apart from these Americans. This was her first trip to the United States. Back home, she had heard stories about the wilds of Wyoming and the West, the unsettled land. For Gabriella, there was no better place to hide. “Class?” the man asked, clearly bored. Gabriella was stunned at the question. Was she supposed to reveal her status? Why would it matter? Unless Manfred was already searching for her. Her heart stopped at the thought. He looked up impatiently. “Miss, what class?” “Er—I—” He sighed, rudely scanning her person. “You got money?”
“I beg your pardon.” Gabriella stepped back, indignant. “That’s none—” The man let out a deep breath. “Listen, lady, do you want a sleeper cabin, or a ticket in a shared car?” The man peered at her over his spectacles, frowning, the lines around his mouth prominent. Gabriella bit her lower lip. He was asking what class ticket she wanted. Oh. “A private cabin, please.” The man’s eyebrows pulled together in concern as he looked her over, and then shrugged. “That’ll be $136.00.” “I—uh—” Gabriella stammered as she held out the American money and waited, trying to stay calm. It was more money than she had intended on spending, but it didn’t touch the savings she had accumulated for this moment. Although she had
brought quite a lot along with her, she knew it had to sustain her until her return. Then again, she didn’t know that she ever would return. But the thought of never seeing her uncle again tugged at her heart. She shoved the thought aside, determined not to think of that now. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” The man rose from his perch to peer down at the bills she was holding. He took what he needed for her trip and huffed when he shoved the ticket and her change back. Then he turned his attention back to the papers in front of him and waved his hand in dismissal. “Train leaves in fifteen minutes.” Gabriella smiled as she walked over to the platform, hoping not to be noticed. Being sixteenth in line for the throne, she was used to being in the limelight. But now, she was trying hard not to attract
attention. She glanced up, knowing that her caretaker and guardian, Manfred Carlo, was sure to look for her when he discovered that she was gone. He was a bulldog. And if he caught her, she would never be let out of his sight again. Gabriella’s heart beat wildly as she peered over her shoulder once more, and then down at her train ticket. It was the first time that she had been on her own, away from home, away from the monarchy… ever. As a princess and an heir of Monaco, she had never been left unguarded. And she wouldn’t have been unguarded now, if not for the fact that she had run away. After her ship docked in New York days ago, she’d found herself unable to take any more people catering to her every whim, being nice to her just because of her elevated rank and money. So, she
planned. Gabriella had secretly watched everything the maids did for her so she could care for herself, like washing, brushing, and fixing her own hair; buttoning her own dress; lacing her shoes; and so much more. When she’d asked them to show her, the maids had peeked at each other, obviously thinking she had lost her mind, but she hadn’t cared. She had to learn those things for when she left. Then she’d waited for her chance. Feeling so stifled that she could scream, she’d made her escape when Manfred wasn’t looking. She shook her head involuntarily. Just once, she wanted to be a commoner, to be treated as anyone else. “Ticket, please?” a young, attractive man asked, looking at her with interest as he stood by the train.
Gabriella took a step forward, raising her chin out of habit, and handed him her ticket. Most of the young men who had been interested in her in the past had only liked her for her money or title. She forced her chin down, reminding herself that this man had no idea who she was. Or, at least, she hoped he wouldn’t recognize her. She looked down the length of the wooden walkway again, fearing that Manfred would come barging in with his entourage and drag her off at any moment. If he found her, he was sure to lock her up in a tower and throw away the key until she was married off to someone she didn’t know as a trophy for the “good of the monarchy.” If she heard that phrase one more time, she was going to scream.
The young steward tore off the ticket stub and tipped his hat as he handed it to her. “Have a safe journey, miss.” Gabriella smiled as she took the ticket and nodded her thanks. She gazed down at the stairs leading to the train. Just a few more steps to freedom. She looked over her shoulder once again, and the young man extended his hand. “Up you go, miss,” he insisted, waiting as the people behind her grew impatient. He took her bag from her and waited. Gabriella squared her shoulders and took the gentleman’s hand. “Merci, monsieur.” She kept her composure as she stepped up into the train, although all she wanted to do was to run directly to her cabin and hide. Freedom. At long last, she was free.
“Right this way, miss,” another gentleman insisted as he quickly checked her ticket and pointed her toward the private cabins. “Your room is the second on the left.” He shoved the ticket at her, and then reached over to a young couple behind her. “Next?” Although she wanted to run to her room and lock herself in there until they reached Laramie, she forced herself to maintain her composure. The years of finishing school and royal training were paying off. She walked past men wearing top hats, and ladies dressed in fine attire. But three men sat to the right, dirty and wet from the falling snow, their boots muddy. The men appeared sorely out of place in that part of the train, but Gabriella kept her eyes straight ahead.
“Get a load of this.” One of the men with a scruffy beard punched the guy beside him. The man pulled away. “Get off me,” he barked, and smiled at Gabriella, showing a gold tooth. There was another younger man with them, too, who leered at her as she passed. Gabriella hurried to her private cabin and slid the door closed. “Well, I never,” she gasped, locking the door behind her. In Monaco, the only men she had encountered were gentlemen. Those men she had just walked by were far from it. Quickly brushing the thought aside, she sat on the bench seat on the left, beside the window. She slipped off her coat, laid it beside her, and turned her attention outside to the people bustling about on the train platform in the falling snow, each in their own
little world. To the right out the window, she saw some men running up the stairs, pushing past a group of gentlemen and ladies who were waiting to board. Gabriella ducked to the side of the window, out of sight, for it was Manfred Carlo and his entourage. Frantic, Manfred turned and ordered another man, the mustache covering his lips moving quickly as he pointed down the wooden walkway. Gabriella couldn’t hear what he had said over the noise of the train, but from the way he appeared to be barking orders, he was angry and wouldn’t stop until she was found. He hurried toward the train, not bothering to look up. Gabriella grabbed the heavy curtain and pulled it closed, sending the room into immediate
darkness. She held her breath, willing herself not to move or panic. She was so close…. “What’s
the
meaning
of
this?”
The
conductor’s voice resonated down the hallway, along with the sounds of a scuffle. “The train is almost boarded. We’re about to leave.” “Not before I check this train.” Manfred’s voice
bellowed
throughout
the
passageway.
“Princess Gabriella of Monaco might be on this train, and it is not leaving until I’ve checked every car.” No. This cannot be happening, Gabriella thought. As quietly as she could manage, she checked to make sure the door was locked. There was pounding on the door of a private cabin two doors down from hers.
“What’s the meaning of this?” a man with a deep voice asked. “Pardon the intrusion, monsieur.” Manfred’s voice was apologetic. “I’m looking for a girl; dark brown hair, blue eyes—” “Well, there is no one here except for my wife and myself,” the man answered, and then the door slammed closed. “I beg your pardon, monsieur,” Manfred apologized, to what Gabriella was sure was the closed door. There was suddenly loud pounding on the other side of the hallway, getting closer to her cabin. Please. Please just let him pass by…. She practically stopped breathing when someone pounded on her door.
Gabriella froze, unable to breathe as she waited quietly in the darkness. “Monsieur, open this door.” Manfred’s voice bellowed down the hallway. “I will do no such thing,” a man replied, sounding as if he was passing by. “You’ll have to leave now unless you’d like to buy a ticket. The train is about to depart.” Please, no! Gabriella heard Manfred let out a deep breath just outside her door. “Where is this train headed?” “Laramie, Wyoming,” the man answered. “Now, I must insist that you disembark.” “Oui,” Manfred agreed, defeated. “I doubt she’s headed to Wyoming, anyway. She’s probably still in New York.” The muted thud of his boots against the floor grew faint as he walked away.
Gabriella held her breath. Just a few more minutes.... “All aboard,” the conductor announced, calling for last-minute passengers. Please, please. If she didn’t get away now, Gabriella knew she never would. It was her last chance… her only chance at freedom. All of a sudden, the train jolted, and then started moving. Gabriella held her breath as they picked up speed. When they were at full speed, she finally let out her breath. As she opened the curtain and peered out at the tall buildings of New York fading in the distance, she felt exposed, but left the curtain open anyway. The countryside was beautiful, like a Winter Wonderland as the sparkling, white pristine snow lay on the ground.
As night began to fall, she finally relaxed, enjoying the scenery passing by. A thrill ran through her. She’d done it. She’d really done it. For the first time in her life, she finally felt free. There was a knock on the door a few cabins down, causing Gabriella’s heart to jump. “Yes? What do you want?” a gruff man answered. “Dinner is served in the main dining car, if you feel so inclined,” the steward answered, “or you may dine in your cabin.” After a few knocks on the other doors, the steward knocked on hers. She opened it, and a man dressed in a white coat stood outside her door. “Dinner is served.” “Merci beaucoup,” she thanked him as she closed the door and set her carpet bag in the corner
of the cabin. For a moment, she wondered whether she should eat in her cabin or go to the dining car, but her stomach grumbled in answer. She realized that in her haste to escape, she hadn’t eaten anything all day. Gabriella straightened her dark blue dress— fitted in the bodice and bustled in the back—then checked her appearance in the mirror. She hardly recognized herself. Her dark brown hair was disheveled. But what caught her attention was the bright blue eyes of the girl staring back at her, glistening with excitement. She quickly took off her hat, which was the same color as her dress, smoothed her wavy hair into place, and repined it. Satisfied, she timidly opened the door. Peering down the hallway, she saw no one, so she squared her shoulders and headed toward the dining car.
To the left was an empty table, so Gabriella slid in with her back to the wall. Then she picked up a menu and pretended to peruse it. Outwardly, she remained in control. Internally, her heart was pounding against her rib cage. Oh. I’m just being silly, she thought as she sat up straight. Uncle Charles didn’t raise a coward. Her father and Prince Charles were brothers. After her parents became ill with influenza, her Uncle Charles had taken her in, wanting to save her from the same fate. After her parents died, she continued to live at the castle. Although she was sixteenth in line for the throne and her uncle was the Prince of Monaco, that didn’t matter. What mattered most to the Grimaldis was family. Over the years, her Uncle Charles had spoiled her, having raised her as his own. She had inherited
her parents’ estate, which included a castle on the Côte d’Azur on the Mediterranean Sea, and more money than she would ever know what to do with. But she would trade all of that just to have her parents back again. “Excuse me.” A female voice broke her reverie. When Gabriella’s gaze followed the sound, a young woman who appeared to be about her age stood by the table, looking at her with kind green eyes. “Would you mind if I dine with you? There doesn’t seem to be anywhere else to sit. Besides, I could use the company.” There was something about her that Gabriella liked right away, even though she didn’t know why. And it would be nice to have someone to talk to on the three-day journey. “Of course. By all means,” she
replied, gesturing toward the bench seat across from hers. “Thank you.” The woman smoothed a hand over her bright strawberry-blonde hair, and then laid her reticule on the bench seat beside her close to the window. “I don’t fancy having to sit with the likes of them.” She motioned with her head toward the same scruffy men Gabriella had seen when she first boarded the train. The men looked very much out of place amongst the rest of the first-class passengers. “I wonder how they got into this part of the train,” Gabriella mused, knowing that the train was segregated according to class. The young woman shrugged. “They bought a ticket, I suppose.” A broad smile spread across her face as she changed the subject. “Please, forgive me,” she added in an accent that sounded like a cross
between British and Irish as she extended her hand daintily across the table to Gabriella. “My name is Kenzie… Kenzie Baker.” Gabriella
returned
Kenzie’s
warm,
contagious smile. She was about to tell the young woman her full name and title, but thought better of it. After all, if she wanted to live a new life—until her Uncle Charles or Manfred Carlo caught up with her—then she had better start now. “Gabriella Grimaldi. And the pleasure is mine, mademoiselle.” She gave the woman’s hand a gentle squeeze. A waiter approached, dressed in a white coat, crisp white shirt, and black trousers. “Good evening. May I start you off with a drink?” Kenzie glanced over at Gabriella and smiled wickedly. “Bring us champagne. The best you have.”
The waiter smiled, bowing slightly. “As you wish.” “Why
champagne?”
Gabriella
asked,
amused. Kenzie
shrugged.
“Why
not?
We’re
celebrating.” Gabriella narrowed her eyes cautiously. “And what are we celebrating?” “Freedom. Adventure. Take your pick.” Kenzie beamed as she slid her gloves off, one at a time, and laid them on her reticule. Gabriella laughed. Kenzie’s excitement was catchy. “So, what brings you out west?” Kenzie
smiled,
bubbling
over
with
excitement. “I’m heading west to open a dress shop.” She shook out her napkin and smoothed it over her lap.
“Oh? You make dresses?” Gabriella asked, clearly intrigued. Kenzie
nodded
as
she
leaned
in
conspiratorially. “I’ve been designing and making dresses in New York for a while now and decided that I needed a change.” Gabriella admired the young woman for knowing what she wanted, and for working hard to get it. “Did you make the dress you’re wearing?” Kenzie sat up straighter. “As a matter of fact, I did,” she stated proudly in her British brogue. “I make all my dresses.” Gabriella smiled. “Are you from England?” Kenzie nodded. “Yes, but originally my family was from Ireland. My parents moved to London after they were married, and I was born
there. That’s where I learned my trade, but I moved to America in search of a new life.” A crease formed between Gabriella’s eyes. “Then why are you moving out west, away from New York? I mean, isn’t New York the fashion hub of America?” Kenzie shrugged. “Yes, but I want to open my own shop. I’ve learned more of my trade in New York, and I loved it, but the competition is steep. Besides, I fancy the adventure. Going west on my own.” She let out an excited breath. Gabriella laughed, enjoying her enthusiasm. As she listened to Kenzie, she became caught up in her excitement, as well. The only real talent Gabriella had was singing. But being a royal, her singing had been limited to a voice coach and private balls, the only place where a dignified young lady could
perform and not be looked down upon by other members of society. “So, where would you like to open your shop?” Gabriella asked, intrigued. “Well….” Kenzie moved in conspiratorially. “I have a backer, Mr. Charles Whitfield. Have you heard of him?” Gabriella shook her head. “He’s a millionaire. Anyway, I met him through a friend and he told me of an up-and-coming town in Wyoming called Whiskey River. He’s already helped a few of the businesses get started there. When he heard I was a dress designer and interested in opening my own dress shop, he offered to help. He said that there wasn’t a dress shop there yet. Only a general store and a restaurant. There’s a seamstress there but she’s retiring, and the women in town who don’t know how to sew are up in arms.” She shrugged. “I thought
that it was as good a place as any to start. Who knows? Once word of my designs spread, women and buyers might come from Laramie or as far as California to buy my dresses.” “Have you brought inventory with you?” Gabriella asked, intrigued. Kenzie smiled. “A whole trunkful, but they’re only samples. I’ll also design dresses and whole wardrobes, too.” “Here you go, ladies,” the waiter said as he approached, momentarily ending the conversation. He placed two glasses of champagne in tall, fluted crystal glasses on the table. The waiter smiled proudly. “What may I bring you for dinner?” Gabriella looked over at Kenzie and then smiled at the waiter. “Surprise us.”
The waiter smiled. “I’ll be back with the first course momentarily.” “Thank you,” Gabriella and Kenzie replied in unison, and laughed. “So,” Kenzie began, taking a sip of her champagne, “what brings you on this grand adventure to the wilds of the West? Are you from France?” Gabriella shrugged. “Somewhere near there.” “Ah. Playing coy, are we?” Kenzie joked as she took a sip of her champagne. Gabriella laughed. Speaking with this woman she didn’t know, she felt more relaxed than she had with anyone in a very long time. “You could say that.” Gabriella shrugged. After the scene Manfred Carlo had made before the train left the station, she had no intention of letting anyone know who she
really was. Not until the train stopped, anyway. “I come from the Côte d’Azur.” It wasn’t a lie. “Who knows? I may end up being one of your best customers.” Kenzie laughed. “I do hope so.” The waiter was back a moment later and set two bowls of vegetable soup on the table, along with a small loaf of freshly baked bread. “Your main course will be here soon. If you require anything else, don’t be afraid to ask.” “Thank you.” Gabriella picked up a spoon, ready to dig in. “Would you like to say grace first?” Kenzie asked, with her hands folded properly at the edge of the table. It wasn’t a judgment, just a thought.
Gabriella nodded. “Oui, s'il vous plaît.” She laid the spoon back down on the table, folded her hands, and bowed her head. Kenzie said a lovely blessing over the meal, thanking God for the good food and new-found friends. When she was finished, she lifted her spoon and announced, “Let’s eat.” Gabriella couldn’t wait any longer, her stomach growling in anticipation. When she took a sip, it was the best vegetable soup she’d ever had. Kenzie chuckled lightly. “Hungry, are we?” Gabriella placed a hand daintily over her mouth as she swallowed. “Please, forgive me. I’ve been traveling and haven’t eaten anything all day.” Kenzie smiled. “Then don’t let me stop you.” It felt good to have a bit of camaraderie with another girl. Her cousin, Albert, as heir apparent, had
been consumed with his princely duties. And besides the maids, there weren’t many other girls in the castle. Gabriella moaned involuntarily as she took another sip of her soup. “Here you go,” the waiter said, as he set two plates before them filled with baked pheasant, boiled seasoned potatoes, carrots, and stuffing. “Do you require anything else?” Gabriella shook her head, her eyes lighting up at the food. “No, we’re fine. Thank you.” “Very well then.” He gave a slight bow and walked away. Unable to wait, Gabriella picked up her fork and dug into the potatoes. She took a bite and swallowed, even though it was a bit hot. Kenzie smiled. “Enjoying yourself?”
Gabriella took a sip of her champagne. “I’m sorry, but this is exquisite. Why aren’t you eating?” Kenzie patted her flat stomach. “In the fashion business, I need to keep my girlish figure.” “Nonsense.” Gabriella smiled as she pushed Kenzie’s plate over to her. “If I’m going to make a fool of myself, then so are you. I’m not dining alone.” Kenzie laughed. “Well, if you insist.” Before long, the women were eating and talking like old friends. After the meal, Gabriella sat back, sated, and placed a hand on her stomach, eager to get back to her cabin to relax. “That was the best meal I’ve had with such wonderful company in a very long time.” The taste of freedom was sweet, enhancing the flavor of the meal.
Kenzie smiled. “Well, then. You must not get out much, do you?” Gabriella shook her head, smiling. “No, I don’t.” Gabriella thought for a moment and then asked. “May I ask you something?” Kenzie swallowed the bite of food in her mouth and daintily dabbed at her lips. “Yes, of course.” “If I may be so bold, how did you come by the money for the trip?” Gabriella didn’t want to be rude, but curiosity got the best of her. She knew that dress designers didn’t make much money. Kenzie took another sip of her champagne and swallowed. “I am so sorry. That was rude—” “No. I don’t mind at all.” Kenzie set down her champagne. “Well, Charles Whitfield paid my
expenses, and I also paint portraits on the side. So, if you’re ever in need….” “I will let you know.” Gabriella smiled, reaching over and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Miss Baker, it was good to make your acquaintance. But I’d better get back to my cabin.” “Call me Kenzie, please,” she insisted as she took one last sip of her champagne. “I think I’d better head back to my cabin and loosen my corset before it explodes.” Gabriella laughed at the image. “Thank you for the stimulating company. Will I see you tomorrow?” Kenzie smiled. “If you aren’t too bored with me yet.”
“Never.” Gabriella giggled as she placed her napkin on her plate and rose from her seat. “Tomorrow, then. Bonne nuit.” Kenzie rose from the table and gave her a quick hug. “It was very nice meeting you.” Gabriella gasped at Kenzie’s directness, but returned the hug. As a royal, no one would dare hug her unless they were family. She could see that in this brand-new world, there was much to learn. After saying her last goodbyes, Gabriella headed to her cabin and locked the door. The curtains were still wide open, revealing the darkness of the night. Both bench seats had been converted into berths. She pulled the curtains closed, sat down on the edge of the bed, and took off her high-topped shoes and stockings as a yawn escaped her. She was so tired that she almost just fell back on the pillow,
but decided against it. She fumbled with the buttons on her dress at first, but soon slipped out of it and into a sleeping gown. Within minutes after sliding under the blankets, she fell asleep, dreaming of the West and what adventures she might encounter there.
Chapter 2
“Here you go, Wyatt,” Dirk Price offered, handing Wyatt Nash the reins of his horse, Midnight. “Hope the weather holds out long enough for you to get home.” “Thanks, Dirk.” Wyatt took the reins and led his horse out of the barn and into the snow that was blowing around like bits of cotton, creating a blanket of white along the ground. “Don’t stay too late, now.” Dirk smiled. “I’m leaving soon. There’s only a few more horses left.” As owner of the only livery stable in town, Dirk always felt obligated to stay until the last horse was picked up for the night, when he was in town. He had hired a young man, Billy Griffin, to run it for him when he wasn’t there. Billy
was only seventeen and eager to prove himself. This night, he had given Billy the night off. Dirk also owned a ranch, which consumed most of his time. Wyatt nodded as he mounted his horse, holding perfectly still. Sometimes Dirk wondered what the horse would say if he could talk. His eyes seemed so intelligent, and it was obvious he loved Wyatt. “Thanks, again. How much do I owe you?” Dirk pulled the collar of his coat up around his neck, looking up at Wyatt, silhouetted against the falling snow. “We’ll settle up Friday, like always.” Wyatt smiled. “Sounds good. Well, I’d better get home to the missus.” Dirk chuckled and watched Wyatt ride away. It was good to hear Wyatt refer to Madison as his “missus.” After the trouble she had with Pete
McGregor, Dirk hadn’t been sure she would ever find peace. But when Wyatt came to town, everything changed. It was common knowledge that Wyatt had been a gambler before coming to Whiskey River. Now he owned the saloon, gave up gambling, and married Madison. Dirk had asked him about it once, and Wyatt had shrugged and told him that meeting the right woman had changed his life. Dirk imagined that meeting the right person could put a man’s life back on track, but his had been derailed for so long it was a lost cause. After all, he had met all the women in Whiskey River—and many in Laramie, too—and none had caught his eye. He hadn’t fallen in love in a long time. For a fleeting moment, Dirk wondered if that would ever happen to him—see the woman of his dreams and fall in love. He shook his head at the
thought as he ran his fingers through his brown wavy hair. When evening fell and the last few men had picked up their horses, Dirk fed the others and battened down the hatches. The storm was sure to be a howler. In Wyoming, there were a lot of snowstorms. In fact, the landscape had turned pristine white every year. Although it was beautiful to look at, it was unbearably cold. Dirk sure didn’t want to get caught out in it. Before going home, Dirk went to the hotel for dinner. The Whiskey River Hotel had the only restaurant in town. Since his ex-wife, Sarah, had left him a few years ago, Dirk ate almost every meal there. After all, who was there to cook for? After she left, there was no one but his dog, Buster, to greet
him when he came home. It was just Dirk, Buster, the cattle and horses, and his sprawling ranch. Dirk pulled his hat down, and his coat up around his neck. In winter, he grew his hair out a bit, letting the waves cover his neck to shield him from the wind and snow blowing fiercely around. His boots thudded loudly against the wooden walkway. The covered footpaths on the right and left of the main street were the only things not already blanketed in snow. The bell on the door rang loudly as he stepped into the restaurant. “Well, well,” Millie Martin announced as he walked in. “I didn’t think you’d make it in tonight.” Dirk shrugged as he brushed the snow off his coat and wiped his boots on the rug, not wanting to track mud into the restaurant. “Yeah, well, I didn’t feel like cooking.”
Millie picked up a menu and walked over to a table, expecting him to follow, and laid it down. “Don’t worry,” she cooed as she patted his shoulder. “We’ll fix you right up. But you might want to think about staying in the hotel tonight.” She gazed outside at the darkness and sighed. “It looks like it’s already getting bad out there.” Dirk shook his head. “No. Can’t. I have to feed the livestock and check on the ranch.” He began looking at the menu, even though he practically had it memorized. Millie chuckled. “I’m sure the cattle can last one night without you.” Dirk laid the menu down on the table. “No, but thank you. I’ll just have something quick, and I’ll be on my way.” Millie nodded. “What can I get for you?”
Dirk and Millie had been friends for a long time, but there had never been anything else between them. Millie flirted, but in a good-hearted way. Dirk suspected that it was just her way. She meant nothing by it. “Does Paul have any of his fried chicken left?” Paul Garrett was the cook at the restaurant. Even though he was getting a bit up in age, his cooking skills were second to none. Millie smiled as she gave Dirk a gentle pat on the shoulder. “I think so. Want some mashed potatoes and creamed corn to go along with it?” Dirk nodded. “Yes, and some of his homemade bread, too.” “You got it, sugar.” Millie gave him a wink as she walked away.
He had moved there with Sarah a few years ago, in search of adventure on the new frontier. When they had arrived, Dirk knew it was his home. The sprawling land at the base of beautiful whitecapped mountains had been everything he had been looking for. But he suspected that way of life had been too hard for Sarah. She quickly became disenchanted and ended up leaving in the middle of the night, leaving all her clothes hanging in the closet. She just left a note that said she was dissatisfied with Whiskey River and was moving back East. She hadn’t even said goodbye. It broke his heart, and in many ways, he still hadn’t gotten over it. For so long, Dirk had refused to give up hope that she would miss him, decide she had made a mistake, and would come back to him. But after a
while when she didn’t return, he knew she was gone. Sarah wasn’t coming back, and he had to let her go. So, he had relented, went to Laramie to see a lawyer, and had filed for divorce, on the off chance that he would ever meet someone else. Although he knew it was impossible that he would ever find someone to love as much as he had Sarah, he knew he had to let her go. Filing for divorce was so final. When the judge had ruled in his favor and slammed the gavel down so hard it resonated in his skull, he knew it was really over. He was now free to go on with his life, whether he wanted to or not. “Here you go.” Millie placed a wooden board and knife on the table with half a loaf of fresh bread, along with his usual coffee. In the summer, he opted for lemonade, but in the winter, it was always coffee. Dirk smiled. “Millie, you know me well.”
She shrugged as she gave him a warm smile. “You come here nearly every night. What do you expect?” Dirk laughed. “Yeah. I guess.” Millie gave him another gentle pat on the shoulder. “Your meal’ll be out in just a bit.” Dirk smiled, inclining his head. “Thanks, Millie.” Since Sarah had left, the townsfolk of Whiskey River had become his family. Every now and then, he wondered what had become of Sarah. Perhaps she went back East, as she had said in her note, and made a life for herself. He brushed the thought aside. Wherever she was, Dirk hoped that she had found happiness. After all, who could blame her? She had been a city girl not cut out for country life.
“Here you go, sugar.” Millie slid a plate filled with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and creamed corn on the table. Dirk’s stomach growled as he inhaled the fresh aroma. “Thanks, Millie. Smells delicious.” She smiled. “I’ll let Paul know.” “Please do.” Dirk picked up a chicken leg. “If you need anything, just yell.” Millie walked away to help a couple who had just walked in. Dirk suspected that not many people would be venturing out on a night like this if they didn’t have to. Juices filled his mouth, and steam rose from the chicken as he took a bite, moaning as he savored the flavor. Moments like those were when Dirk missed Sarah the most. She had been a good cook. In fact,
she could have been a pastry chef at some exclusive restaurant in New York, if she had wanted to. But she wanted no part of it. She had appeared to be perfectly happy with Dirk, wanting nothing more than to be his wife‌ until they came to Whiskey River. Dirk had finally found a home in Whiskey River and had hoped that Sarah would come to love it as much as he had. But it seemed that wasn’t meant to be. After she left, Dirk really had no desire to marry again. After she left, Dirk really had no desire to marry again. In the back of his mind, he would always wonder if any woman he married would become disappointed with him and eventually leave, just as Sarah had. He quickly pushed the thought aside as he took a sip of his coffee.
“Dirk, is everything all right? It looked as if you were somewhere else for a moment there.” Millie asked as she leaned on his table, her eyebrows raised. Dirk shook his head. “It was nothing really.” “Well,”
Millie
cooed,
“cheer
up.
Thanksgiving’s around the corner, after all.” “Don’t remind me.” Millie rubbed his shoulder absentmindedly. “Ah, come now. It can’t be that bad. Have any plans, like going back East to visit your family?” He shook his head. “No. There’s no one there anymore. What about you, Millie? Have any plans?” She shook her head. “No. I told Mr. Curry I would work so he wouldn’t have to close the restaurant during the holidays. So, if you aren’t doing
anything, come on by. I think Paul’s planning something special for Thanksgiving dinner.” Dirk forced a smile. “I’ll think about it.” He dabbed at his lips and placed his napkin on his plate. “That was delicious.” “Glad you liked it.” Millie gave him a warm smile, taking his plate. “I’ll be right back with more coffee.” Dirk nodded and then watched her walk away. Millie was kind at heart, a good soul, motherly. He wondered why she had never found anyone special. After all, she took good care of the people in Whiskey River. But he suspected that she had come to think of the townsfolk of Whiskey River as her family, just as he had, and was satisfied with that.
After he finished his last cup of coffee, he paid the bill and left a generous tip. “Be careful out there, Dirk,” Millie called out, watching as he slipped into his coat. “It’s getting bad.” “Yes, it’s worse than usual this time of year. I have a feeling we’re in for a blizzard.” He gave her a smile. “Thanks, Millie, but I’ll be fine. Have a good night and don’t stay too late.” Millie laughed. “My room is just upstairs, so I don’t have far to go.” “Night.” Wind and snow rushed into the room as he opened the door. He stepped outside and quickly closed it behind him. The only light came from the general store and the saloon across the street, the
kerosene lanterns in the window casting a golden glow upon the snow. Dirk made his way back to the stable and saddled up Angel, his sorrel mare. She was a good horse, gentle, but spirited, and loved to run when he let her. Within minutes, he was headed home as the blinding snow and cold whipped around him. Thanksgiving. He hadn’t even had time to think of it. In fact, he usually didn’t even bother to celebrate the holidays. He usually put up a tree for something to do, and every Christmas Eve, he read the passage of Jesus’s birth from the Bible, but that was just about it. There was too much work to do, and not enough time to do it. He wasn’t opposed to Christmas. He just had no one to celebrate it with.
But Dirk knew he had a lot to be thankful for in his life. Over the last few years, he had made a good living as owner of the livery stable and his ranch where he bred and sold horses and raised cattle. Although he liked all horses, including quarter horses, his heart was in raising thoroughbreds. He had a few men who helped with the ranch, and another who helped at the livery stable. But the weeks between Thanksgiving and New Year, he gave everyone time off with pay to visit their families since it was slow that time of year. Most of the men were single, young ranch hands who lived in a bunkhouse on his property, if they chose. Before they left, they had helped him to catch up on everything around the ranch, so he could handle it easily. Also, he had hired Billy to help at the livery stables, and Kyle to help at the ranch. They were both in their
teens—nearly adults—and ready to start making lives of their own. The snow came down in sheets, blowing hard against his coat as darkness encroached upon the earth. Relief filled his heart when he finally saw the edge of the familiar field that he knew stretched out before his ranch. Although the snow was blowing so hard that he couldn’t see it, he followed the tree line and knew he would be home soon, and that his dog, Buster, would be waiting for him. He pitied anyone caught out on such a night.
Chapter 3
Gabriella spent the next few days of the trip sleeping and reading in her cabin. At mealtimes, she met Kenzie in the dining car and they talked and laughed about many things. Although Gabriella hadn’t told Kenzie who she was, she enjoyed having made a friend on the long journey. Without their little quiet chats at what had become their table, the three-day ride would have been unbearable. Gabriella’s natural sense of flight seemed to calm when she relaxed with Kenzie. Over those days, she wondered if the train would arrive on time, or if they would be snowed in somewhere along the way. Outside the huge windows, the snow piled along the banks in towns
the train passed through, but, miraculously, the tracks had stayed clear. Just when Gabriella thought it could snow no more, the wind would conjure up more of the white fluffy puffs. She wondered where it all came from. It had snowed while she was in New York, but the wild country in the west gave new meaning to the word snowstorm. “Ladies
and
gentlemen,”
the
steward
announced on the third day. “Gather your belongings. We will arrive in Laramie, Wyoming, shortly.” Gabriella’s heart pounded as she wondered what adventures the Wild West had in store for her. It was an odd time of year to begin a new life, a new adventure, that was certain. But Gabriella wasn’t worried. She had plenty of money shoved safely in
her corset to sustain her until the time came for her to go back home and face her responsibilities. She left only what little she would need for the day in her reticule, not wanting to take any chances. “Well, this is it,” Kenzie announced, linking arms with Gabriella after they stepped off the train. “Perhaps we will see one another again in Whiskey River.” Gabriella chuckled. At the name, images of whiskey flowing freely and drunken men cavorting about immediately came to mind, but she shrugged. “Maybe. You never know where fate will lead us.” Kenzie nodded as her bright strawberryblonde locks bobbed. “You never know.” Gabriella kissed both of her cheeks, the custom in France.
Kenzie’s eyes were wide with shock, but she quickly recovered. Blush colored Gabriella’s cheeks, realizing that she may have made a faux pas. “I’m sorry. It’s a habit. The custom… where I’m from.” Kenzie waved a hand in front of her face in dismissal. “Oh, not to worry. When you get settled, be sure to send a note to me in Whiskey River so we can keep in touch.” “How will I know your address?” Gabriella knew she had a lot to learn about the customs and classes in America. Kenzie smiled as she gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Just label it with my name and Whiskey River, and I’m sure I’ll get it. After all, I’m sure there aren’t many other people named Kenzie Baker there.”
Gabriella smiled. “I’m sure you’re right. Or, at least, I hope not. I’m sure there’s no one else quite like you.” Kenzie smiled and pulled her in for a quick hug. “Will you be all right? Would you like a ride?” Gabriella returned the warm smile… and it was genuine. For once, she didn’t have to plaster on a fake smile to keep up appearances, like she often did in Monaco. “No, I’ll be fine. But thank you for the stimulating company.” Kenzie laughed. “The pleasure was mine.” With one last wave, she headed to a waiting buckboard, driven by a nice-looking man with long hair, wearing a cowboy hat and a long, leather coat. Gabriella shrugged as she picked up her carpetbag and headed off toward the hotel, hoping they had a vacancy. She never had to arrange for her
own place to stay before. In Monaco, everything had just been done for her, arranged for her. It just was and something she didn’t have to think about. She sighed as she looked up at the hotel. It wasn’t what she was used to, but it was as good a place as any to start. Surely, Mr. Carlo wouldn’t find her there. Suddenly, two men grabbed her arms, one on each side, causing her to drop her bag. “What’s the meaning of this?” Gabriella gasped. Two of the three scruffy men from the train had her. The man with the long beard gave her a toothless smile. “Let go of me.” She heard a click, and something round and hard was pushed against her back. “If you know what’s good for you, miss, you’ll keep it down. Don’t attract any attention, or I’ll be forced to shoot you right here.”
Gabriella turned to look in his eyes. “Then go ahead and shoot. I’d rather be dead than go with the likes of you.” He grabbed a handful of her dark brown hair and jerked her head back. “Listen, bitch, I’m warning you.” “Get off me,” she demanded, but the younger man on her right shoved his dirty hand over her mouth and pulled her quickly down an alley. “Help! Let go of me, you brute,” she mumbled around his hand. “Shut up,” the man with the gold tooth, who had been standing behind her, growled through gritted teeth. The young man threw her over his shoulder and carried her toward a wagon where another scruffy-looking man with red hair and a beard waited.
“It’s about time you got here,” the man said. Gabriella kicked and screamed, and he leered at her. “Hey, what do we have here?” “Payday,” the younger man replied, trying to keep Gabriella on his shoulder. “Help, someone!” Gabriella shouted as she beat on the man’s back. When she looked up, the man with long hair who had been waiting for Kenzie was standing at the end of the alley on the street. “Help me! Please!” “Hold it right there,” the man, who had come to get Kenzie, ordered as he pushed his coat aside, revealing two sidearms, one on each side, tied down to his leg. “Let her go.” The man with the scruffy beard drew his pistol and fired, but the man with the long hair was
quicker, and shot him right between the eyes, which went glassy. He fell against the wagon and then onto the ground. The younger man threw Gabriella into the back of the covered wagon, drew his gun, and fired at the man. “Go, go,� he shouted at the driver and then climbed in, too. Gabriella tried to push her way out past the men, but the man with the gold tooth pushed her to the back of the wagon as he shot out the back once more. Then the wagon jolted forward as the horses pulling it launched into a full run. People screamed as the wagon probably nearly ran them over, weaving back and forth through town, throwing her from side to side in the back.
“Great, Clayton,” the redheaded man with the scruffy beard growled as he urged the team on. “You just got Pop killed. And for what? Her?” “She’s a princess, Harley,” Clayton, the man with the gold tooth, shouted. “He’s not kidding,” the younger man agreed as he shot out the back of the wagon. Gabriella slid back against the edge of the covered wagon and wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling them to her chest, trying to stay out of the way. She should have known better than to run away. “Tell him, girl,” Clayton ordered. Gabriella cleared her throat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Stop and let me out. If you don’t let me out, I’ll kill you myself.”
“Shut up.” He backhanded her across the face, jolting her backward, causing her to see stars. Then he turned to the younger man. “Blake, tell him. Tell him that she is too a princess.” Gabriella was bounced around in the back of the wagon, and then Harley suddenly made a sharp turn to the left. She scooted as far back as she could into a corner, trying to think of ways to defend herself if one of them made a move at her. “I think we lost ’em,” Blake announced as he glanced out the window. “And, yes, she is a princess.” “Like hell I am,” Gabriella lied. “Shut up, girl,” Clayton growled as he reared back his hand again, but then lowered it and turned his attention to the younger man instead. “Tell ’im, Blake. Tell him what we heard.”
Blake let out a deep breath. “Yes, she’s a princess.” “I’m not—” “Shut up.” Blake bit his lower lip. “She’s a princess.” Harley looked behind him as he slowed the wagon. “How the hell do you know that?” “Tell ’im, Blake,” Clayton urged, clearly excited. “Well, after we robbed the bank, we decided to splurge and ride in style in first class. Who knew? We could have stolen some jewelry from those hoitytoity women on the train. Anyway, this girl here came onto the train and walked past us like everyone was beneath her.” Blake glared at her. “Then a man with a mustache, wearing some kind of military uniform, comes on board, yelling that he isn’t going
to leave until he finds the Princess of Monaco.” He pointed at Gabriella. “Where is Monaco anyway?” Clayton’s eyebrows pulled together, looking as if he was thinking so hard that it hurt. Gabriella shrugged. “I have no idea what he’s talking about.” “That’s enough out of you,” Blake spat. Harley smiled a toothless grin. “So, what’s the plan?” “Tell ’im, Blake,” Clayton insisted, his eyes wild with excitement. “Shut up, Clayton,” Blake ordered, and then turned to Harley. “We’re going to hold her for ransom. She has to be worth at least $100,000, I’m sure.” He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back abruptly, forcing her to look in his eyes.
“Maybe then she won’t be so quick to put her nose up in the air when she walks by next time.” Gabriella glared at him. “I’d still walk past you like you were dirt beneath my feet.” “Why, you little bitch. My father was killed because of you,” Blake growled as he slung her onto the floor by the hair. Gabriella screwed up her courage. Never would she show fear to men such as these. “Your father died because of this idiotic plan.” Blake glared at her, his eyes black as he clenched his fists by his side. “Harley, pull over. We have to ditch this wagon. Someone’s going to recognize us.” “We’re almost to the cabin,” Harley announced as he made another turn. “Look out the
back and see if we’re being followed. I don’t want anyone knowing where our hideout is.” “We can’t stay there now,” Clayton reasoned. “They’ll find us for sure. That man back there looked like a lawman. He’ll have us tracked down in no time.” Blake nodded. “We’ll have to take her to California. We can contact her people from there.” “In this weather?” Harley asked. “There’s a blizzard headed this way.” “We have no choice,” Blake replied, suddenly the voice of reason. “We’ll close down the cabin, and then we’ll head out.” “But the blizzard…,” Harley wailed. “Harley’s right,” Clayton agreed. “We’ll freeze to death before we reach California.”
“Well, then, let’s stay here in Laramie, and we’ll send a letter to Monaco in the morning,” Blake reasoned, obviously the brains of the bunch. “Where the hell is Monaco, anyway?” Harley asked, his eyebrows raised, his eyes wide. Blake rolled his eyes. “One thing’s for sure, we have to get what we need from the cabin and go.” “We’ll have to find another place.” Clayton sighed. Gabriella was surprised he had actually thought of it on his own. “We’re here,” Harley announced, pulling the wagon to a stop, bringing their planning to a halt. “Clayton’s right. We’ll have to find another place.” He wrapped the reins around the front post, and then stepped down out of Gabriella’s view.
“Come here, woman.” Blake pulled her roughly into his arms. Gabriella pounded with all her might against his chest. “Like hell I will.” Blake grabbed her shoulders and shook her hard, forcing her to look at him. “Look. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. It’s your choice.” He dragged her to the end of the wagon and threw her over his shoulder again. Clayton and Harley were already out of the wagon, and led the team into a rickety old barn. Gabriella peered through the blinding snow. Before them was a one-room cabin. It was too small for more. She was surprised the men could have been living there. Who knew? Maybe it was just their hideout.
“Hold still, woman,” Blake ordered, carrying her through the door. “Let me go.” Gabriella kicked and screamed. He shoved her roughly into a chair, turned away, and started rummaging through kitchen drawers. Gabriella got up and ran for the door. But Blake was quicker. He grabbed her arm and held a knife to her neck. “You utter one more word and I’ll slit your throat.” Gabriella took a deep breath. “Go ahead. At least then I won’t have to deal with the likes of you.” Blake slapped her hard across the face, sending her crashing to the floor. Then he grabbed her arms and used a rope to tie her hands together in front of her. Gabriella was dazed when he pulled her off the floor and then shoved her back onto the chair.
“Stay there, and don’t you move.” He pointed a finger at her. She scanned around, trying to gain her bearings as the room came into focus. Blake went into the other room and brought out a heavy coat, an old cowboy hat, men’s jeans, and a flannel shirt and threw them at her. “Here, put this on. You’ll need it to keep warm.” Gabriella laughed. “So, you’re taking care of me now?” Blake laughed so hard that tears came to his eyes. “Not hardly. But you’re no good to us if you die in this weather. Now, put it on.” “Not in front of you, you imbecile.” Then she held out her hands. “And I can’t dress with my hands tied.”
He let out a deep breath, took out a long knife, and shoved her into a small closet. “You try anything at all and you’re dead.” In one fluid motion, he cut the rope around her wrists and slammed the door closed. She couldn’t see a thing, but quickly fumbled around in the closet looking for something, anything that she could use as a weapon. “Hurry up or I’m coming in there after you,” Blake growled from the other side of the door. “You wouldn’t dare.” “Yes, I would.” She let out a huff and slipped off her dress, leaving on her corset, but checked to make sure her money was still there. If those morons found out that she had as much money as she did, they’d probably take the money, kill her, and forget about the ransom. Satisfied that the money was still in place, she
slipped quickly into the jeans, which were two sizes too big, and buttoned up the oversized flannel shirt. When she came out, Blake looked at her and wrapped the coat around her. Then he shoved the cowboy hat on her head and pulled it down over her eyes. “Now, that’s better,” he announced, and then stared at her shoes. “We can’t do anything about those right now, but it’ll do.” He grabbed her wrists and quickly tied them up again, tighter this time. A moment later, he pulled her out of the house where Clayton and Harley were waiting with four horses already packed and ready to go. “You’re giving her a horse?” Blake scoffed. “Well, you have her tied up.” Harley motioned toward her hands. “If we have the reins, how far do you think she’ll get if she gets loose?”
Blake let out a deep breath. “You’re unbelievable,” he mumbled under his breath. Then he turned to Gabriella and pointed at her. “If you try anything, anything at all, I’ll kill you myself.” “If you kill me,” she glared, her eyes unwavering, “then you won’t get any money.” “Shut up and get on that horse.” She paused for a moment, trying to figure out how she was going to do it. Back home, she had ridden sidesaddle, which was entirely different. “Hells bells. You are one helpless woman.” He picked her up and shoved her onto the horse. He took her reins, and then mounted another horse with a bedroll strapped to the back of the saddle. She held onto the saddle horn and slipped her feet into the stirrups.
They walked for what seemed like hours through the snowstorm, which only seemed to be getting worse. Gabriella shook from the cold as they plodded on when they came to what looked like a hunter’s lean-to against a tree in the woods. “Blake?” Clayton asked. “Don’t you think it’s time to stop?” He let out an exaggerated breath as he took in the small structure. “Yeah. I guess we’re far enough away.” He pointed to a small clearing in the middle of a circle of trees. “This is as good a place as any. Let’s set up camp.” “Well, it’s about time.” Clayton dismounted his horse. “I’m tired from the train ride, and my ass is hurting from riding.” Harley grabbed him by the collar. “Well, if you two hadn’t had the bright idea to kidnap her—”
A shot rang out from the other side of Gabriella, claiming the two men’s attention. Gabriella turned around and Blake’s gun was smoking. “That’s enough. What’s done is done. Let’s just get through this.” Within minutes, they had laid out the bedrolls in the lean-to and started a fire. Soon, coffee was brewing. Gabriella scooted to the base of a tree as far away from the men as she could manage, shivering in the cold as they warmed themselves by the fire. “I say let’s take the ransom and then kill her.” Clayton took a swig of his coffee. “Now you want us to be murderers?” Harley asked as he poured more coffee into his cup. “First you idiots get the idea to kidnap her, now you want to kill her?”
“Shut up,” Blake growled, pulling his gun. “It wasn’t our idea. It was Pop’s… and he died for it.” Harley held out his arms. “So, you’re going to kill me now?” “If I have to.” Blake pulled back the hammer on his six-gun revolver. Harley shook his head. “You’d kill your own brother. Well, don’t that beat all.” Blake pointed the gun at his brother for a moment, and then released the hammer and slid the gun back in its holster. “Don’t say a word about this idea anymore. Pop’s dead, and we can’t even bury him. It was his idea, and out of respect for him, we’re going through with it. I don’t want to hear any more about it.”
Clayton stretched out on a bedroll and fluffed his pillow, ignoring the others as he rolled over onto his side. He was snoring within minutes. “Well, it looks like you have the first watch,” Harley announced as he slid down into his bedroll and turned over before his brother could object. Blake leaned back against a tree and watched the fire. Soon, his gaze fell upon Gabriella. She let out a deep breath and turned over, hoping he would stay away from her. She knew that she had to get away from the awful men before they killed her… or did something much worse. As she lay on the bedroll, shivering, she started making plans. Perhaps she would take one of their guns for protection, or she could wait until Clayton took watch. She felt that he would be easy to knock out. Or maybe she could reason with him, play on his
sympathies, and he would release her. He appeared not to be as bright as the others… and that was saying something. To her amazement, she heard snoring coming from Blake’s direction. Slowly, she looked around, and sure enough, Blake was leaning against a tree with his arms folded across his chest and his head was bent. He was asleep. It was her chance. None of their guns were visible to her— except Blake’s, which was lying across his lap. And there was no way that she was going to chance waking him to get it. No, it was best if she got away as quickly as possible… alive. The embers of the fire were dying, and she was sure that Blake would wake once it grew cold. She had to act now. Slowly, she stood up on the
bedroll, but froze when Clayton smacked his lips together loudly and turned over. She glanced over at Blake and Harley, and they were still fast asleep. This was it. Gabriella stepped behind the tree as silently as possible and waited. When no one woke, she stepped backward as quietly as she could manage into the forest through the blinding snow. When she was a safe distance away, she ran. She had no idea where she was running to, but anywhere was better than staying with the likes of those three criminals. As she ran, she stumbled and fell, scraping her hands. She got up, untied her hands, and then started running again. Gabriella would have taken off her shoes so she could run faster, but her feet would surely freeze.
As she ran, the snow blew harder against her coat. When Blake had wrapped it around her, she’d thought it was hideous, moth-ridden, and smelled musty. But now, it might just save her life. She ran through the forest, illuminated by the moonlight through the snow, for what seemed like hours. Her hands and feet were freezing. If she didn’t find shelter soon, she was going to die. Just when she thought she couldn’t take another step, the light from a coal oil lamp streamed from a window, casting a golden glow onto the snow from a house. Gabriella thought she was hallucinating at first. But as she stepped closer, the bark of a dog told her that she wasn’t. She looked behind her and, miraculously, no one was following her. Blake and Clayton were probably exhausted from the three-day
train ride and wouldn’t wake for a while. But Harley was another matter. She quickly pushed the thought aside and stumbled up the stairs to the door. She just hoped that whoever answered was better than the three criminals she had left behind. She collapsed on the front porch, and ice pressed against her cheek as her eyes began to close. All of a sudden, a warm, wet tongue licked her cheek. When she opened her eyes, a golden retriever was panting and smiling, licking her face. He scratched at the door, barked, and licked her face again. Then the golden light and warmth from inside the house flooded the porch when the door opened. And for a moment, Gabriella wondered if she was in heaven.
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