Chapter 1

Gabriella

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 as she raised her chin, clutching a large carpet bag with a few dresses and personal belongings inside. It wasn't much, but it would have to 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, please." Gabriella winced, realizing how different she sounded, how much her French accent set her apart from the Americans. This was her first trip to the United States. Back home, she had heard stories about the Wild West, the unsettled land. For Gabriella, there was no better place to hide.

The man rolled his eyes. "Where to?"

"Umm… somewhere out west."

He let out an exaggerated breath, shaking his head. "Let's see… we have Laramie, Wyoming; Austin, Texas…."

The people behind her started to grumble as the man continued to rattle off cities.

"Laramie," she cut him off. Then she cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. "I'd like a ticket to Laramie, Wyoming."

"Class?" the man asked, 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—"

"Listen lady, do you want a sleeper cabin, or a ticket in a shared car?" The man looked at her over his spectacles, frowning, the lines around his mouth prominent.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." Gabriella bit her lower lip. He was asking what class ticket she wanted. "I'd like a private cabin, please."

Concern filled his eyes 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, hoping that she wasn't discovered. It was more money than she had intended to spend, but it didn't touch the savings she had accumulated for this moment. Although she had brought quite a lot of money 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 in dismissal. "The train leaves in fifteen minutes."

"Thank you." Gabriella smiled as she headed 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 looked up, knowing that her caretaker and guardian, Manfred Carlo, was sure to look for her here 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 looked over her shoulder once more, her heart beating wildly, 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 status and money, and telling her where to go and what to do. So, she planned her escape.

Gabriella had secretly watched everything the maids did for her so she could care for herself, like 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 looked at each other, obviously thinking she had lost her mind, but she didn't care. She had to learn these things for herself, for when she left. Then she'd waited for her chance. Feeling so stifled that she could scream, she'd made her escape on the rare occasion 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, standing beside 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 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."

"Thank you." Gabriella smiled as she took the ticket and nodded her thanks. She looked 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 to help her.

"Up you go, miss." He took her bag and waited patiently as the people behind her grumbled.

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 turned his attention 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 paying off.

Gabriella 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 looked 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, pointing at her.

The man pulled away. "Get off me!" he barked, and then looked up at Gabriella and smiled, 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 to 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, a group of men ran up the stairs, pushing past the gentlemen and ladies 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 barked orders to 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 was yelling, 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 closed it, 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 a few doors down from hers.

"What's the meaning of this?" a man with a deep voice asked.

"Pardon the intrusion, monsieur," Manfred replied, his voice apologetic. "I'm looking for a girl; dark brown hair, blue eyes—"

"Well, there is no one here except for my wife and me," 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, causing her to jump.

Gabriella froze, unable to breathe as she waited quietly in the darkness.

"Monsieur! Open this door!" Manfred's voice bellowed down the hallway.

"I most certainly will not!" 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!

Manfred let out an exaggerated breath. "Where is this train headed?"

"Laramie, Wyoming," the man answered. "Now, I must insist that you disembark."

"Oui," Manfred agreed, defeated. "I doubt she would head to Wyoming, anyway. She's probably still in New York." The muted thud of his boots echoing against the floor grew faint as he walked away.

Gabriella let out a deep breath.

"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 into the distance, she felt exposed, but left the curtain open anyway. The countryside was beautiful, like a Winter Wonderland as the sparkling, 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 was finally free.

There was a knock on the door a few cabins down, causing Gabriella's heart to jump.

"Yes? What do you want?" the same gruff man from before asked.

"Dinner is served in the main dining car, if you feel so inclined," the steward answered, "or you can 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 and bustled in the back—then checked her appearance in the mirror. She hardly recognized herself. Her brown hair was disheveled. But what caught her attention the most was the bright blue eyes of the girl staring back at her, glistening with excitement. She quickly took off her hat—the same color as her dress—smoothed her wavy hair into place and then 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 a small, empty booth, so Gabriella slid in with her back to the wall. Then she picked up a menu and held it up to cover her face, pretending to peruse it. Outwardly, she remained in control. Internally, her heart was pounding like a race horse.

Oh. I'm just being silly, she thought as she sat up straight on the bench seat. 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 C?te d'Azur in the French Riviera, 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 looked up, 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." Gabriella gestured toward the bench seat across from hers.

"Thank you." The woman smoothed a hand over her bright strawberry-blonde hair and 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 inconspicuously 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, ladies. May I start you off with a drink?"

Kenzie looked 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, her broad smile touching her eyes.

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, leaning 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 enough 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 of 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 very 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 member of the Royal Family, her singing had been limited to a voice coach and private balls, the only place 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 leaned in conspiratorially. "I have a backer, Mr. Charles Whitfield. Have you heard of him?"

Gabriella shook her head, her eyes wide, listening intently.

"He's a billionaire." Kenzie shrugged. "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 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 soon, and the women in town who don't know how to sew are up in arms." Her broad, cheerful smile returned. "I thought that it was as good a place as any to start. Who knows? Once word of my designs spreads, 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 also design dresses and whole wardrobes for individuals, too… for the right price." Kenzie winked causing Gabriella to giggle.

"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 would you like for dinner?"

Gabriella glanced 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 both laughed.

"So…." Kenzie took 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, wagging her eyebrows.

Gabriella laughed. Speaking with this woman she didn't know, she felt more relaxed, less guarded, 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 in New York, she had no intention of letting anyone know who she really was. Not until the train stopped, anyway. "I'm from the C?te 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 with a small loaf of freshly baked bread before them. "Your main course will be here soon. If you require anything else, don't be afraid to ask."

"Thank you." Gabriella picked up her spoon, ready to dig in.

"Would you like to say grace first?" Kenzie asked, her hands folded properly at the edge of the table. It wasn't a judgement, just a thought.

Gabriella nodded. "Yes, please." 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 dig in!"

Gabriella laughed. She 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. "Oh! Please, forgive me. I've been traveling and haven't eaten anything all day."

Kenzie smiled. "Then don't let me stop you."

Gabriella laughed. 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 of late. And besides the maids, there weren't many other girls in the castle to interact with.

Gabriella moaned involuntarily as she took another sip of her soup. "Oh, this is delicious!"

"Here you go." The waiter 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 as she looked at the food. "No, we're fine. Thank you."

"Very well then." He bowed slightly 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 laughed. "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, it's imperative that I keep my womanly 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 two women were eating and talking like old friends.

After the meal, Gabriella sat back, fully 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—and 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 laughed, shaking her head. "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 this 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, unless their designs became famous.

Kenzie took another sip of her champagne and swallowed.

"I'm sorry. That was rude. I shouldn't have—"

"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 as she reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Miss Baker, it was good to make your acquaintance. But I'd better get back to my cabin."

"Please, call me Kenzie," she insisted as she took one last sip of her champagne. "I think I'd better head back to my cabin, too, 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 to meet you."

Gabriella gasped at Kenzie's directness but returned the hug. As a Royal, no one would dare hug her unless they were family. But she could see that there was much to learn in this brand new world.

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. But both bench seats had been converted into berths.

After pulling the curtains closed, Gabriella sat 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 slipped out of her dress, but left on her corset, knowing there was no way she could get back into it without help. Then she slipped into her sleeping gown and fell asleep within minutes after climbing under the blankets, dreaming of the west and the adventures she might encounter when she arrives.