A Stage Line Worth Killing For (Preview)

Prologue

Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory

1875

The door opened with a shriek of protest, causing James Whitlock to briefly pause. Both tellers looked up from their work at the ghastly sound, and the loan officer greeted him.

“Welcome to the Cattleman’s Bank of Cheyenne. Are you here to see a teller today?” he asked.

“Yeah,” James replied almost dismissively.

The statement wasn’t entirely a lie. He was there to see the tellers. But he was also there to see the loan officer and the other customers in the bank. They were all in danger and had no idea.

“One will be right with you,” the loan officer said with a smile.

James responded with a single nod before turning his attention back to the rest of the room. Four customers stood ahead of him. With the tellers and the loan officer, that made seven people in the room he needed to track. Five of the seven could easily become victims if he wasn’t careful.

Two of the customers were men, the other two women. One of the women was a breathtaking brunette. She stood just ahead as she waited for her turn to speak with one of the tellers, and James was faced with a decision.

The bank was about to be robbed. He had trailed a group of six men through the adjacent territory all the way into Cheyenne, and he suspected they were in a gang. The two men posing as customers were two of the six men he’d trailed, and James had to act quickly.

He couldn’t save everyone, nor could he pull out his guns and threaten the two robbers without putting the entire bank in danger. As he stood casually behind the striking brunette, he decided his best chance of handling the situation with minimal violence was to get as many of the people out of the bank as possible before the robbers acted.

James boldly stepped forward, casually placing his hand on the woman’s arm, just above her elbow.

“Excuse me, miss,” he said with a bright, easygoing smile, “but your father has just sent me to find you. He says it’s very important you come to him at once!”

To his surprise, the brunette’s bright green eyes widened. She looked from him to the door and back again, her expression changing from surprise to worry in an instant.

“He did? Oh!” she said. “Thank you, I’ll—”

But before she had the chance to finish the statement, the man standing at the front of the bank pulled out a gun and pointing it directly at the teller.

“Everyone remain calm! This is a robbery, and if you don’t do exactly as you’re told when you’re told, you’ll be shot,” he called.

Chaos ensued as the other female customer screamed in terror. She turned to run for the door but stopped right in her tracks when she saw James reaching under his duster. He pulled out his twin Colts, aiming them toward the front of the bank.

The woman mistakenly thought he was one of the robbers, and she collapsed to the floor in a mess of sobs and tears. James wanted to tell her she didn’t need to fear him, but he was too caught up with the robbers just ahead.

The second man turned when he heard the woman scream, gun in his hand. He didn’t fully face James before James pulled the triggers of both his handguns, striking the man twice in the chest.

The brunette next to him shrieked in horror as the other woman screamed, but the first robber was already shooting. Both the bank tellers ducked behind the counter, so the man turned on James.

James was ready to shoot again, but before he had the chance to pull the trigger, another shot rang out. One of the bank tellers had a gun under the counter, and as soon as the robber was distracted, he took the chance to shoot the man in the back.

The robber fell to the ground, dead before he even realized he’d been shot.

“Someone get the sheriff!” the woman on the ground yelled. “Hurry!”

“Stay down,” James ordered her. He looked at the brunette who stood pale and breathless by his side and repeated himself before adding, “Those gunshots are bound to bring in the rest of the gang.”

Sure enough, four men came rushing through the door, guns drawn. They didn’t waste time opening fire on those inside, and James felt a searing heat run through his arm as a bullet grazed his shoulder.

“You’re hit!” the brunette cried, but James was already dropping to the ground, almost landing on top of her. He did what he could to shield her with his body as he returned fire toward the door.

The bank tellers did the same, shooting at the men from just below the counter. Two of the robbers fell to the ground while the other two fired more shots into the bank lobby. James whipped around, bringing up his own gun and pulling the trigger repeatedly.

“Give it up! They got us beat!” one of the robbers yelled to the other. “Let’s get out of here before the sheriff arrives.”

The other man didn’t respond, but they both backed out of the bank at the same time. James let them go, turning back to the woman on the floor next to him.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Instead of answering his question, however, she looked at him with the same wide eyes. “Did my father really send you?”

“No,” he admitted. “I just—”

“I must go to him anyway,” she said as she gathered herself and rushed out the door.

James remained on the floor, watching her disappear. Just beyond, the sheriff and his deputies were riding quickly toward the bank, and James pulled himself off the floor with a sigh.

His arm burned, but he’d deal with that when he was done speaking with the sheriff. Four men were dead on the floor, but two men had fled the scene, and the sheriff would want to know what had happened, as well as which direction they’d gone.

And James had all the details the man would need.

Chapter One

Three Weeks Later

“There you are! Thank goodness. I was just about ready to come looking for you myself,” Bret said as Victoria walked through the front door.

“Oh Bret, you worry too much,” she told him as she flashed him one of her warm smiles. “I just had to go into town for a couple things.”

“After you were caught up in that bank robbery three weeks ago, I hate letting you go anywhere without some sort of protection,” he argued.

Victoria could have rolled her eyes, but she chose not to for the sake of peace. Bret was merely worried about her after the robbery, as any good brother would be. Part of her was surprised that he’d not insisted on coming with her into town ever since the incident had occurred.

“I was fine. It was frightening, I’ll admit, but like I said there was that mysterious stranger who protected of me.”

She smiled as she mentioned the man once again. He’d been on her mind often over the past few weeks, though she’d largely kept the thoughts to herself. Bret had made it quite clear from the beginning that he wasn’t impressed with the man despite him saving Victoria, and she didn’t want to get drawn into another debate.

But he’d been quite handsome. His blue eyes and sandy brown hair stood out vividly in her mind. He’d been so casual, even in the heat of the moment. He’d been a rock in the middle of the chaos, and she admired him for it.

If only she’d gotten his name.

“Which, if you ask me, is also quite strange,” Bret murmured as he sipped his coffee. His dark hair fell over his eyes as he looked down into his mug. “Who was he? Why did he choose you to help? Where did he go after the robbery?”

“Those are all questions I don’t think matter much, not to be rude,” Victoria replied. She set her basket on the counter, her own dark hair falling over her shoulders. She usually wore her hair pulled back at the top and loose in the back, though Bret often encouraged her to pull it all into a neat bun at the nape of her neck.

“You really ought to wear your bonnet if you’re going to walk in the sun,” Bret chided. His tone was gentle, but the look on his face said that he meant every word. “You’ll freckle.”

“Freckles never hurt anyone,” she said. Still, she felt her cheeks burn as his words landed. She didn’t agree, but she didn’t like being told how to dress.

“No, but it’s unbecoming, especially for a grown woman such as yourself,” he admonished.

She gave him a look. Her instinctive response was to tell him that he ought to mind his own business, but the words died in her throat. He was, as usual, dressed like a lawyer. He’d recently graduated college and had returned home to help her care for her dying father.

Victoria couldn’t find a flaw in his appearance, so she changed the subject.

“How’s Pa doing?”

“He’s been quiet today,” Bret said with a small sigh. “I don’t think it’ll be long now.”

Her heart sank at his words. Her father had been dying for some time, and every day she had with him she felt was a gift. But the past two weeks, he’d taken a turn for the worse, and even the doctor seemed surprised that he was still alive with each visit.

“I should go in and speak with him,” she said.

“He was asking about you earlier,” Bret told her.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked, almost angry.

“You weren’t home,” he told her with a dismissive air. “You know as well as I do he doesn’t have much time left.”

“I can’t sit around and wait for him to die,” she hissed. “That’ll kill me as much as anything.”

Bret said nothing as she finished putting away the bread she’d purchased at the mercantile. She couldn’t be cross with him, mostly because he was right. Her father didn’t have much time left, and she felt guilty for wasting any of it on errands.

However, Pa wouldn’t want her to sit around and wait for his end to come. He hadn’t raised her that way, and if he heard of it, he’d scold her. Still, she couldn’t quite shake the guilt as she crept up the stairs, the wooden boards creaking under her.

“Pa?” she asked as she quietly knocked on the door. “How are you feeling?”

“There you are, thank goodness,” William Sterling breathed when his daughter appeared in the doorway. “I was afraid you’d be too late.”

“Too late for what?” she asked, already sensing she didn’t want to know the answer.

“I don’t have much time left, my dear. Come to me,” her father said as he motioned with his hand. “I sent for you earlier, but Bret said you’d gone into town.”

“I just wanted to get a couple things at the mercantile,” she told him. “Mr. Mowrey asked about you.”

“That was kind of him,” her father said. “I’m going to miss everyone.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Victoria said as tears filled her eyes. “It hurts too much to hear.”

It was a selfish thing for her to say, but the words left her lips anyway. Part of her hoped that her father was just having a tired spell and hadn’t reached the end of his time.

“But you need to hear it,” he said. “Death comes for everyone, Victoria, even me.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” she murmured.

“And I’m not asking you to, but I do need you to listen to me now,” her father said. “I always thought I’d have more time, but then, I suppose none of us know how long we have in this world.”

“What did you want to see me for, Pa?” Victoria asked. She hated talking about his passing, and the conversation felt even heavier as she watched him struggle to even breathe.

“I have already spoken with my lawyer, but I want you to hear the truth from me directly,” William said. “I’m leaving you everything, Victoria. The ranch, the business, everything. It will all be in your name.”

“Oh, Pa,” Victoria said, but he held up his hand to stop her from continuing.

“I’m sorry that it’s in such a sad state,” he told her. “You deserve the world, my child, and I wish I could have left you a better legacy.”

“What are you talking about?” she cried, taking his hand in her own. She put his palm to her cheek, hating how cold he felt. “You’ve worked hard on that business, and you should be proud of all you accomplished.”

“We’re losing customers. Losing drivers. It’s been that way for months, and you know it. I’ve done what I can think to do, but I don’t know how to stop them from going elsewhere. We have to make a living, too.” Her father’s voice was bitter as he spoke, and she shook her head, trying to pull him back into a better headspace.

“It’s not that bad, Pa. We’ve always had slow seasons and busy seasons. This is just another bump in the road that we’ll get through with time.”

“Bless you for having such a positive outlook on the world,” her father said.

A pause settled between them, and it was her father who spoke once again. “I’ve already spoken to Bret about everything.”

“Have you?” she asked, hoping that her voice didn’t sound as relieved as she felt. “I’m worried how he’s going to take the news that everything is in my name when you go.”

“He’s agreeable to it. You are my only child, after all,” her father said.

“No, Pa! We’re both your children!” Victoria cried. “He’s been by my side for as long as I can remember. I’d never say that I was yours and he wasn’t.”

“I love that you feel that way, and that’s why I trust you will do the right thing by him. Yes, he’s been raised alongside you, but when it comes down to it, he’s your cousin, not your brother. I hope you both continue to see each other as brother and sister long after I’m gone, but I want you to have the legal rights to what I’m leaving behind. I’ve worked for years on this ranch, and on my business, too. I want it to go to my child.”

Tears trickled down her cheeks, but Victoria nodded. If her father had already spoken to Bret and he was agreeable, she didn’t have to worry about how he would take the news when he learned that he hadn’t inherited any of the ranch himself.

“He’s going to help you run everything,” her father said. “But there’s something else I wanted to speak with you about.”

“What is it?” Victoria asked quickly. “Tell me, Pa, and I’ll make sure it’s done! Anything.”

“I want you to get married,” her father said.

Victoria’s heart stumbled within her. She’d just promised to do anything, but she’d not stopped to think what he might ask of her.

“Pa …” she let her voice trail off, unsure of what else to say. “You know I’m happy here on the ranch. I like running the business. I don’t have time in my life for a man.”

“You have more than enough time in your life,” her father said, changing his tone as he spoke. It reminded her of when she was a little girl and being told to do her homework, and she didn’t say anything, letting him continue.

“You’re a beautiful young woman, and you shouldn’t have to bear the burden of all this alone,” he said. “You need a husband who can shoulder the heavy work of the place. A man who can be the front of the business. Someone who can handle the rougher side of things.”

“I can do all that myself, Pa,” Victoria said, forcing herself to sound confident and not offended. “I don’t need a man for any of that. And if I did, there’s Bret.”

“Bret has his own life,” her father said. “And while he’s going to help you with all this, he’s not going to be here forever. He’s just graduated, and he’s got a future for himself. I don’t expect him to sacrifice any of that to run this place, especially since I haven’t left his name on anything.”

“But a husband?” Victoria said, allowing her lack of enthusiasm to show. She took a seat on the side of the bed and gently picked up her father’s hand.

“Yes, a husband,” her father said with that note of finality in his voice. “It’s not just for the business or the ranch, Victoria. I don’t want you to be alone when I’m gone.”

“But I have—”

“It’s not the same thing,” Pa interrupted. “I want you to have someone to grow old with. Someone who will give you children. I want you to be happy and cared for, and that means securing a husband.” He reached for her, placing his hand gently on her cheek.

Victoria didn’t reply right away. More arguments rose in her mind, but she wasn’t going to do that to her father in his last moments. She gripped his hand harder as she moved it from the side of her face to her lap.

“I’ll find someone,” she said, but Pa looked at her with determination in his eyes. She couldn’t be certain, but she thought she might have seen some conflict in his gaze as well, as though there was something else he wanted to tell her, but he wasn’t quite ready to put it into words.

“You’ll put in effort to make it happen,” he said. Then, with greater effort, he added, “If it comes down to it, I would rather you sold the business for what you can get for it, then find a man to marry. You could get enough to help you start over, be it here or elsewhere. I know you’ve turned down more than one suitor in town, and I don’t want you to keep doing that. Find yourself a good man who treats you right, and settle down.”

Her stomach twisted itself in a knot. Her father was proud of his business, even as it struggled. Hearing him say that she ought to sell it broke her heart. She couldn’t let that happen, no matter what. The business was her father’s legacy, even more than she herself was. She would keep it going.

“If I can’t save the business, I will,” Victoria said with more confidence than she felt. She hated the words even as they left her mouth.

Pa studied her for a few more moments, then a look of satisfaction crossed his face. He nodded slowly before he said, “Good. Then I can rest in peace. I love you, Victoria.”

His words caused a pang to run through Victoria’s heart. She wanted nothing more than for her father to be able to rest, but he was worried about her and what he was leaving behind. She gripped his hand, hoping to reassure him as best she could.

Pa closed his eyes and laid back on the pillow. His breathing became shallow, and she hoped he was falling asleep. Perhaps rest would do him some good, and they could talk about this more later. Promising to marry someone was difficult, as she wasn’t sure she was looking for that in her life.

But she couldn’t bring herself to argue with her dying father. Not when she saw just how much it meant to him.

“Yes, Pa. I’m going to be just fine. Everything will be fine. Maybe it’ll even happen faster than we think and—”

She stopped herself, realizing that his hand had gone slack under her own. She looked back at his face, holding her own breath to listen for his. As silence filled the room, her heart started pounding within her.

“Pa?” she said softly, her voice trembling. Then, louder. “Pa!”

Her voice cracked when she spoke the second time, and she couldn’t stop herself from sobbing. “Oh, Pa! Pa!”

A soft knock at the door caused her to look up. Bret stood in the doorway, his face grim and his hand over his heart as he watched her.

“Bret, he …” her voice trailed off as more tears caused her throat to constrict.

Bret stepped into the room, tears filling his own eyes. He looked down at Pa as he lay on the bed and let out a sigh that could have been mistaken for a sob.

“He’s gone, darlin’,” Bret said softly.

His words brought a fresh onslaught of tears as Victoria laid over her father’s body, crying for him to open his eyes and speak to her one last time. She clung to her father as the sobs ran through her, and she only remembered Bret was still in the room when he spoke to her once more.

“Don’t you worry about a thing,” he told her, his voice low. “I’ll be here to help you with the ranch and the business. We’ll work things out.”

“Right now, we—I—just need to take care of Pa. He needs to be laid to rest proper, Bret.” She looked up at him, the tears still falling with every word.

Bret nodded once more. “Don’t worry about that, either. I’ll take care of it.”

Gratitude flooded her, and she nodded. She couldn’t find the words to tell Bret how glad she was that he was with her, that he would help her. She promised herself she would thank him somehow, but right now, she let herself grieve.

Pa was gone. Her entire life had changed in an instant.

And the future looked bleak.

Chapter Two

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Mrs. Baker said as she hugged Victoria tightly. “It’s really too bad.”

“He’s at peace now, and he was so proud of you!” Mr. Mowrey said as he hugged her after.

“Thank you,” Victoria said, dabbing her eyes with her kerchief. “I miss him terribly.”

Three days after her father had passed, the funeral parlor was packed with people from all over Cheyenne. News of her father’s passing had moved quickly, and as he was such a beloved member of the community, folks came from all over to pay their final respects and wish Victoria well.

She appreciated the outpouring of love and support, and her father would have been proud to know he was so loved by everyone, but she still struggled to get through the afternoon.

“As you will,” Preacher Hubert told her as he walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. “William was a very good man, and he shall be sorely missed by the entire community.”

“Thank you,” Victoria said again. “He will be, but I’m going to do everything in my power to keep his memory alive.”

“You’ll do that just by living your own life,” Mrs. Baker told her. “When my pa passed, I felt that part of me had died, too. But I turned to my own family, and I know that I’ve kept his legacy alive through my own children. It really is a wonderful way to honor your parents, you know.”

“Thank you,” Victoria said yet again, this time with a forced smile.

Mrs. Baker, and everyone else in the town for that matter, meant well. She saw it in their eyes when they embraced her and offered her their condolences. But talking about family only brought pain to her heart.

She thought of her last conversation with her father and how he had told her he wanted her to marry. Memories of the look in his eyes as he said the words flashed through her mind, and she had to shake her head to rid herself of the feeling they brought with them.

Victoria wanted nothing more than to honor her father, but ever since he’d passed three days before, she could only think of the promise he’d asked her to make. She had to get married, and she didn’t want to any more now than she had before.

“We’ll give it another half hour,” Preacher Hubert said. “Then I’ll close the doors and we’ll have the service, if you’re ready.”

“I’m as ready now as I’ll ever be, I suppose,” Victoria reluctantly admitted. “I thought it would be easier since I knew for so long that this was coming.”

What she said wasn’t entirely true. She felt ready for the service, but she didn’t feel ready for what came after. The thought of putting Pa in the ground and burying him was almost too much for her to bear.

The house had already felt so empty and lonely without him. Sure, Bret was there, but it wasn’t the same as knowing Pa was just upstairs. Ever since he’d gotten sick, he’d been up in his room, always easy to find, always there to offer his word of kind advice any time she’d needed it.

“Don’t be hard on yourself for that,” Mrs. Baker told her. “Death is hard no matter how much notice it gives. Please, let me know if you need anything, and I’ll be right there. Let me bring by a meal for you and Bret tomorrow, so you don’t have to worry about cooking at least.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Victoria said, glad to be able to say something besides the generic thank you she’d said on repeat for the past few days.

“This is quite the turnout,” Bret said when he walked over. “I guess I can’t be surprised, not with how much Pa did in Cheyenne.”

“Pa would have been so happy to see so many people cared for him,” Victoria told him. “I wish he could see this.”

“I’m sure he can,” Preacher Hubert said. “He’s still here with us, child. We just can’t see him is all.”

“I want to believe that. I very much do,” Victoria said with a tearful smile. “He was all the family we had, really.”

She gave a small nod to Bret as she spoke, and he nodded in agreement. His own parents had been killed in a train accident when he was only four years old. Victoria’s mother had also passed away when Victoria was little more than a baby.

Though she remembered her mother through the stories her father had shared and the photographs he’d shown her, she never truly felt like she’d known her mother. Sure, she felt loved by both her parents, but losing her mother hadn’t felt nearly as dreadful as she felt now that she’d lost her father.

“You have each other now,” Preacher Hubert said. “And don’t forget you have the rest of the community. We’re not going to turn our backs on you. If you need anything at all, you can reach out to any one of us. If need be, I’ll take up a collection at the church to help with the immediate costs of his passing.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Victoria said with a shake of her head. “But I will be certain to reach out if we do find ourselves needing something. Pa was a very wise man, however, and he was sure to help us prepare for this in every way he knew how. He was much braver than I’ll ever be.”

“Don’t say that,” Mrs. Baker told her. “You’re grieving right now, that’s all. Your pa raised you right, and he knew what he was doing. I know it hurts, but you’ll do just fine when the sun comes out again.”

Though the words brought her some comfort, she once again thought of the promise that she’d made. She had no idea who she’d marry, and she didn’t much care for the current prospects that came to mind.

Bret had told her he’d be willing to help with the directive, but she’d turned him down quite quickly. If she was to marry someone, she wanted it to be someone of her own choosing.

More people drifted in and out of the funeral parlor, each taking the time to look at the casket first, then to walk over and say a few words to Victoria. But the time the service itself began, she once again felt like she was outside herself.

Everything she said and did felt automatic, as though there was someone else who was doing the talking while she stood back and watched. She fearfully wondered if the rest of her life would be that way, or if she would find a way to work through the grief.

“I think it’s time,” Preacher Hubert said as he pulled the doors closed and made his way to the front of the parlor. Bret looped an arm around Victoria’s and led her to the front of the room, seating her beside him in the corner seats.

She gave him a small, grateful smile through her tears as she sat back, trying her best to pay attention to the comforting things Preacher Hubert had to say about her father. But even as she cried and nodded along with much of it, she still found herself dreading the coming months.

Now that Pa was gone, the business fell to her. The ranch fell to her. And while she had experience helping her father run both, she had no idea how she was going to get through running everything on her own. She’d been so confident before Pa’s passing. Now that he was gone, she felt small and vulnerable.

Even with Bret’s help, it was a daunting task—one she wasn’t sure she was up to taking on.

Victoria felt immense grief as they loaded her father’s coffin into the wagon and carried him to the cemetery. She sobbed into her kerchief with Bret by her side as they lowered him into the ground, and she couldn’t bring herself to watch as they covered the casket with dirt.

“Come on,” Bret said into her ear once it was done. “Let’s go home.”

She still felt as though she was living in a nightmare as she allowed him to lead her back to the buggy. She climbed into the passenger seat and sat with her hands folded on her lap, her eyes downcast as Bret grabbed the reins.

A few of the folks who had come to stand by as they put her father to rest waved goodbye, but Victoria couldn’t bring herself to look up or acknowledge them. She had no intention of being rude, but she did want to get home as quickly as possible.

When they arrived back at the ranch, she went inside and straight to her father’s study. The room had always felt like it was her father’s sacred space, and part of her felt wrong for being inside. Sitting at his desk felt even worse, but she was quick to remind herself that Pa was gone, and this was now her business.

This will always be his study, but I suppose it’s time I took charge. A promise is a promise, and I’m going to do what I can to save the business. 

She flipped open the ledger, ignoring the trembling of her fingers as she did so. Names, dates, destinations, payments … it all stared back at her as though it was some sort of puzzle she’d been charged with solving.

The information wasn’t new to her. She’d helped her father with the business for years. But this was the first time in her life she’d been the one who had to make sense of what she saw on the page.

A soft knock on the doorframe drew her attention, and she looked up to see Bret standing with his hat in hand.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Go right ahead.” She nodded to the seat across the desk.

Bret sat, still fidgeting with his hat. The silence between them was filled with a tense sorrow, as though both felt pressured to say something to comfort the other, but neither knew what to say.

Finally, Bret was the one to speak. “You know, we ought to be able to get enough for the business to settle the debt with the bank. If we sell off the coaches and the horses, that should do just fine.”

“Sell?” She looked up from the ledger, letting the surprise show in her voice but masking the anger she felt over the idea. “We’re not selling the business, Bret.”

“What? You mean to keep it?” he asked, also surprised.

“I promised Pa that I would,” she told him simply. “And from what he said, so did you.”

“I told him I’d help you run it if that’s what you wanted, but I also told him that we’d sell it if that was in the best interest of everyone involved.” A brief pause before Bret added, “And he agreed.”

Victoria’s chest clenched as she remembered making the same promise. But she’d made the promise with the intention of saving the stagecoach business. Selling it would be the last resort after they’d exhausted all other options.

“I don’t want to sell,” she told him. “Not if we don’t have to.”

“Don’t you understand how much work—and money—it’s going to take to get the business back on its feet? Times are changing, Victoria. People don’t want to risk their safety traveling by stagecoach when the train can get them wherever they’re going in half the time with double the security.”

“The stage has been a reliable way of travel for as long as we’ve been alive. Longer, even. I’m not going to give up simply because there’s now a railroad. Trains are stuck going where the tracks lead. A stagecoach is not.” She looked up from the ledger long enough to speak her mind, then she turned back to the pages. “I’ll go back to the bank and speak with the loan officer about our options.”

Bret let a loud breath out through his nose. Victoria sensed his displeasure with her idea, but he also seemed to understand he didn’t have a say. Her father had explicitly left the business under her name. He could either help her, or he could go back on his word and let her handle it herself.

Victoria wondered if Bret was aware of her father’s wish that she marry, but she kept the thought to herself. It wasn’t any of Bret’s business, and whether he knew or didn’t, she wasn’t going to let him have a hand in that part of her life.

“I don’t much like the idea of you going back to the bank so soon after the robbery,” Bret said quietly.

“Oh stop. The robbery happened a few weeks ago. It’s not as though I’m going to get robbed every time I go in,” she said with a strained smile. Her mind went back to the man who’d saved her, but she pushed that out of her head quickly. She’d likely never see him again.

“Even still,” Bret replied, running his hands down his thighs before rising from the chair. “Let me know when you decide to go back, and I’ll go with you.”

“If I decide,” she clarified. “I’m going to look through the ledger here and see if there’s ways we can cut costs while bringing in more riders. I’m sure there’s going to be something we can do to help out the business without having to go into more debt to make it happen.”

Bret nodded, though the look on his face told her he didn’t agree. She chose to brush it off, not wanting to let his pessimism get to her. The day had been difficult enough without having to face the grim reality that they might not be able to save the business after all.

“I’m going to bed,” Bret told her. “How long will you be up?”

“I’m not sure yet,” she replied. “I couldn’t possibly sleep with this weighing on my mind.”

“Don’t let it weigh on you too much,” he said. “You’ve been through hell these past few days, today especially. Sleep would do you a world of good.”

“I won’t be up all night,” she told him, though she wasn’t sure whether that would be true. “I just want to get a feel for what we need to do.”

He gave her another nod before stepping out of the study, leaving her alone with the ledger once again. Victoria stared for some time at the dark hallway beyond the door. Bret meant well, but he’d not helped her mood in the least, and a lump formed in her throat as she looked back down at the ledger in front of her.

Tears fell, but she quickly wiped them away, not wanting to smudge any of the records her father had left. She didn’t necessarily need the information anymore, but everything in the book was her father’s handwriting.

She felt closer to him just being able to read the things he’d put down, even if it wasn’t anything more than business notes.

Time ticked by, but Victoria hardly noticed as she scoured the pages and wracked her mind for some idea of what to do. Her eyes started burning, and she sighed. She ought to head to bed herself, but she couldn’t tear herself away from the book.

“Don’t worry, Pa,” she whispered in the low lamplight. “I’ll find a way to save the business. I’ll save what you built. I promise.”

Chapter Three

“You seem to have pretty strong opinions for someone who just walks,” James scolded his horse as the animal snorted and pawed the ground. “But then, I suppose you did just carry me from Denver all the way back up here. Maybe I should lay off the sweets.”

He laughed as he shifted in the saddle and patted his stomach. His belly was mostly flat, but the way his horse behaved, he felt he must weigh more than he realized.

“Alright, Stout. You think we’re going to wind up with another robbery on our hands? It would be mighty coincidental to have a second robbery in Cheyenne in the span of three weeks, but I guess you never know.”

He sent the horse forward, walking easily on the road leading into town. He’d spoken with the sheriff just after the bank robbery had occurred, informing the lawman that two of the robbers had fled before his arrival.

“But don’t you worry about that,” James had cheerfully added. “I’ll go after them myself.” 

“You sure about that?” the sheriff had asked. 

“Of course I’m sure,” James had replied. “I trailed those thugs all the way to Cheyenne. I’m not about to let two ride off into the sunset just because four died.” 

“I’ll send two of my men with you,” the sheriff had offered, but James had shaken his head, turning the man down. 

“I’m a deputy marshal, remember?” he’d asked. “I can handle two men on my own.” 

“Suit yourself,” the sheriff had said, “but the offer stands.” 

James had thanked him but left town almost immediately, not wanting to lose the trail. He’d then pursued the two men south, catching them close to the Wyoming border. A shootout had followed, but James kept the upper hand. One of the men died, the other he’d taken into custody in Denver.

He’d informed the Denver sheriff of the robbery and the deaths of the rest of the gang, then he’d left the man in prison. The gang member was wanted all over the west, so James hadn’t had to worry about taking him back to Cheyenne for trial.

But, after he’d finished with his mission, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He could have taken another job from Denver, but the posters were all the same Wanted posters he’d seen in the last two sheriff offices.

Instead, he’d decided to ride back up to Cheyenne and speak with his boss in the Territory Marshal’s office.

He rode through town, heading for the small building on the corner of two streets. A weathered, wooden sign swung lazily in the breeze reading: Wyoming Territory Marshal, and James stepped inside.

“Marshal Whitlock, good to see you,” Marshal Stevens said as he rose from his desk. “I heard you were in town a few weeks ago, but you didn’t come in.”

“I was here chasing down a gang,” James explained. “Two of them rode out and I didn’t want to lose the trail.”

“Did you find them?” his boss asked.

“I did,” James said with a nod. “Wound up in another gunfight with the pair. One died, the other I took into the sheriff’s office in Denver. He’ll be standing trial in a couple weeks. I’m sure he’ll hang for what he’s done.”

“Probably,” Marshal Stevens replied with a single nod. “Did you get another job while you were there?”

“No, which is why I’m here,” James told him. “I’ve seen the same posters on the walls of the last two sheriff offices I’ve visited. I figured if you had the same I might as well take one, but if you had something else for me, I’d rather do that.”

“You getting tired of hunting down gangs?” Marshal Stevens raised a brow.

“No.” James shook his head. “But there’s always more gang members, and there’s always more bounty hunters and marshals going after them. I’d rather leave the individuals to the men hunting them and take another job from you directly. Provided you have one, that is.”

“Well, I just might,” Marshal Stevens said. “I was speaking with Sheriff Rockford, and from what I gather, there’s gold that’s been discovered in the Dakotas.”

“That’s bound to spark a rush,” James commented, and Marshal Stevens agreed.

“I’m sure it’s not going to take long before we see stages coming into town loaded with valuables. Whether that be the gold itself or money from gold that’s already been sold, it doesn’t matter. Once word really gets out that the stages are carrying treasures, you know it’s going to draw the gangs.”

“So what do you want me to do?” James asked with a raised brow.

“I’ve got a trail for you to follow here,” Marshal Stevens said as he tapped the map on his desk. “It’s the main route running from here through the Dakotas. The trail that the stagecoaches will be using most often.”

He traced his finger along the path on the map as he spoke, and James followed with his eyes.

“Now,” Marshal Stevens said. “This point here is where I anticipate things will be particularly bad.”

“Gambler’s Pass,” James read aloud.

“That’s the official name, but most call it Robber’s Roost,” Marshal Stevens told him grimly. “And with good reason. Considering how the trail curls up the mountain here, it’s easy for men to lie in wait for a stagecoach to come through. There’s a drop on this side and a steep incline on this other side, giving the robbers easy access as the stage only can go one way.”

“And I’m sure with such an ideal setup for a robber, the location is well known by gangs,” James commented.

“I would suspect so, but there’s one in the area known to be ruthless. The Timber Rattler gang. Have you heard of them?” Marshal Stevens looked up from the map and met James’ gaze.

“Can’t say that I have,” James replied nonchalantly. “Seems to me there’s a new gang that crops up every couple years. This could easily be just a mix of men who came from other gangs and found comradery with each other.”

“Could be, but their leader has held his position for ten years now. I’m surprised you’ve not heard of them,” Marshal Stevens commented.

James shrugged.

“His name is Black Jack Simmons,” Marshal Stevens continued.

“How original,” James said dryly. “Is he a gambler?”

“No doubt. You know as well as I do men like him get their monikers in all sorts of ways. I don’t care what he’s called, quite frankly. What I care about is what he’s done.” Marshal Stevens seemed almost angry talking about the man, drawing James’ interest.

“Which is what, exactly?” he asked. “I’m starting to wonder how I’ve not heard of this man myself.”

“He’s wanted for murder. Multiple murders, actually.” Marshal Stevens opened the drawer next to him and rifled through his desk. Finally, he pulled out a file and laid it open, revealing the crude sketch of the outlaw.

James leaned forward once again, committing the man’s features to memory.

Black Jack’s face was round with a bushy, black beard. His hair also appeared to be thick and black, giving his eyes a beady, glinting appearance even through the sketch.

“He’s a sizeable brute,” Marshal Stevens informed him. “Stands about six foot four, weighs over two hundred pounds. From what I’m told, he’s got massive fists that he uses like sledgehammers. A real beast of a man.”

“I see,” James commented, his eyes not leaving the page. “And how many has he murdered?”

“I’m sure way more than what we’re being told. But he’s being credited with the murder of two businessmen just outside of Fort Laramie. Shot them both in cold blood. Then there’s the deputy marshal he murdered last year just south of Deadwood.”

James bristled. Killing a civilian was horrible. The thought of it caused his stomach to churn. But killing a fellow marshal was a whole different thing that angered him more. Knowing that this man was wanted for killing another marshal made James’ blood boil.

“And as I said already,” Marshal Stevens said, drawing James’ attention back to the present. “Those are just the men we know of. I’m sure a man like Black Jack has killed far more.”

“No doubt,” James agreed.

“So I’d like for you to ride the route. Clear out any gangs in the area and make it safe for the stagecoaches to pass through. I’m not looking for this gold rush to turn into some sort of massacre. Oh, and I should also tell you that each of the men in the Timber Rattler gang has a large bounty hanging over his head. Each one you bring in will be a payday for you.” He looked up from the map and into James’ eyes. “Do you want the job?”

James didn’t need time to consider. He’d made up his mind as soon as he’d heard that Black Jack killed a marshal. “I’ll take it.”

“Good. If you’d like help on the trail, Sheriff Rockford has volunteered a couple of his deputies for the task,” Marshal Stevens said.

“I’m sure he has,” James replied with a small smile. “He seemed happy to push a couple off on me when I went after the rest of the last gang. I’ll let you know if I change my mind, but for now, I’ll take this alone.”

“So long as you’re sure,” Marshal Stevens said. “I don’t want you to get yourself killed because you’re too confident.”

James laughed at that. “You’ve known me for years, Stevens. I’m confident, sure, but not arrogant. I know my limitations.”

“I’m not sure that’s true, but I’ll let you be the judge,” Marshal Stevens said. “Alright. Let me know if there’s anything else you need. You know where to find me.”

James nodded before heading back outside. He had a lot of information to digest, but if the gold had already been found, he didn’t have much time to do it.

He stepped off the porch and crossed the street, heading for Stout. Experience told him that it would be wise to get moving. The sooner he rode the trail, the sooner he’d be able to flush out the gang and get to this Black Jack Simmons.

His blood boiled once more at the thought of the giant, Black Jack Simmons, throwing his weight around. But James would best him. He always walked away the winner, even if he had to fight for months to achieve his goal.