Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

D enver, Colorado December 1882

Holly Turtledove’s heart pounded as she strained to listen to her brother’s voice.

“What do you bid, gentlemen?” Drifted up through the grate in the floor.

She gasped and doubled her efforts to untie herself. She had to be quiet, lest Randall discover her attempts to escape. When he told her that morning he’d finally figured out a way to make some good money, she had no idea it meant selling her to the highest bidder! Not until he wrestled her to the floor two hours ago, trussed her up and gagged her, then left the dingy room they were staying in. Denver’s lowest class had pockets of subpar humanity she had no idea existed until now, and she wanted no part of it.

Randall was always out to make a fast dollar and had sunk to a new low. And here she thought his stealing was bad!

Thankfully, her brother was a poor judge of fabric. She’d chewed through the flimsy gag and was now working on the ropes he’d used to tie her hands to a bedpost. They were on the second story of the dilapidated hotel they were staying in. There was a saloon on the first floor, and it was full of drunken, jeering men. She had no idea if Randall was offering her to the highest bidder for the night or outright selling her to a brothel. Either way, Holly didn’t plan to stick around to find out.

Holly grunted when she pulled at the knot with her teeth. Lucky for her, Randall wasn’t good at tying knots either. She pulled the knot loose, wiggled her hands free of the rope, then untied the rope around her ankles. That done she tossed her only other dress and her Bible into her small carpet bag and headed for the window. Their room faced the back alley, and there was a small porch beneath her window. She crawled onto its roof and edged to the end of it. A wagon was passing through the back alley and had a few wrapped bundles of something in the back. She prayed it wasn’t crates of something that might break her legs right before she jumped.

“Hey now!” The driver exclaimed. He turned on the wagon seat and glared at her. “What are you about, missy?”

“Sorry!” She climbed over the canvas wrapped bundles and pondered if they were sheep’s wool. She jumped out the back of the wagon and landed in a huge puddle. “Forgive me!” Holly was off like a shot running down the alley, ducking around corners now and then to catch her breath. She didn’t know how much time she had to get away and needed to figure out where to go. She darted up one street, then another, trying to find her way out of the seedy neighborhood Randall brought them to.

By the time she got to the edge of the neighborhood and entered another, she was breathing like a winded horse and was growing tired. Randall said they were out of money, and she hadn’t eaten in two days. She was freezing, thirsty, and hungry, but none of that mattered. She’d escaped and had to keep moving.

Holly found a park and took refuge under a huge fir tree as snow began to fall. Was today Christmas? Randall had eaten some bread and cheese he’d gotten a hold of and told her she could eat tomorrow as a Christmas present. Only instead of giving her anything to eat, he bound her to a bedpost, gathered men downstairs, and got them bidding on her! She always knew her brother was a cad, but this?

She shivered beneath the tree, then figured she’d better get moving. Before she did, she pulled her other dress out of her carpet bag and wrapped it around her shoulders. Something was better than nothing. In her panic, she didn’t think to grab her shawl.

She shivered, left the concealment of the tree, and hurried to the other side of the park and up the street. Holly kept going, until she thought she couldn’t take another step, and realized she was in an upper-class neighborhood. Maybe she could find shelter somewhere. A carriage house perhaps? At this point, she’d curl up in a doghouse.

She pushed herself and wondered how long she’d been running. A couple of hours? Three? She didn’t know. Holly crossed into another neighborhood and headed up a slight hill. She wasn’t sure she would make it and clung to a wrought iron fence for support. Surely Randall wouldn’t pursue her this far? If he’d sold her, what would happen to him when he took her buyer up to their room and discovered she’d escape? He might have a knife in his belly at this point.

Holly forced herself to trudge up the hill and prayed she made it to the top. Once there, she would find shelter then hope and pray she made it through the night. The snow was getting heavier, and it was becoming hard to see. Maybe that was a good thing. She was using a dress for a shawl and probably stood out like a sore thumb what with her shabby clothes and unkept appearance. But Randall had sold the brush and comb set Mother left her right before she died. He’d sold everything but the clothes on their backs, and instead of selling those, he decided she was next on his list.

Tears stung the backs of her eyes at his terrible betrayal. How could he do this to her?

But she knew how. He was a louse. A bad person who didn’t care about anyone but himself. She concluded the only reason he’d dragged her to Denver in the first place was so he’d have something to use to either bargain with or sell as a last resort. And this was it.

She cut down an alley between two mansions, heading for a grouping of large trees. There was a gate to her left and what looked like a stable and carriage house. If she was lucky, she’d find an unlocked door.

Holly looked around, unlatched the gate and slipped through. That done she slinked along the side of the building to a side door of the carriage house. She tried the doorknob, and miracles of miracles, it opened!

Tears streamed down Holly’s face as she entered the darkened carriage house and softly closed the door behind her. She was shaking so hard from the cold at this point she could hardly get her hands to work the handle of the nearest carriage. The owner must be rich indeed to have two carriages! She climbed into the one, figuring there might be a blanket inside. Sure enough, there was, and she was quick to make use of it.

Holly wrapped the thick wool blanket around herself, curled up on the carriage seat, and thanked the Lord she’d made it this far.

She shivered as tears continued to stream down her face, her breathing ragged. Now all she had to do was hope she didn’t catch her death. If she was alive in the morning, then she’d have to figure out where to go and what to do. But for now, all she cared about was that she’d escaped Randall’s sinister plans for her and found shelter.

Her shivering slowed, and it wasn’t long before Holly drifted off to sleep.

“Mrs. Pettigrew!” Mr. Prosser called as he entered the breakfast room.

Mrs. Pettigrew looked up from the newspaper she’d been reading. “What is it, Mr. Prosser? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Her stable master clutched his hat in his hands. “You’d best come see for yourself.”

Mrs. Pettigrew gave her assistant, Chastity Eastwick, a profound look of curiosity. “We should see what this is about, ma petite .”

“Yes, Mrs. Pettigrew.” Chastity left her chair.

“Best get your coats,” Mr. Prosser advised. “I’ll be in the carriage house. Please hurry.”

“You’re acting most curious, Mr. Prosser,” Mrs. Pettigrew said. She rose from her chair and was about to call for Mr. Tugs, when he suddenly appeared with her cloak. “Why, thank you, Tugs.” She put it on as Chastity hurried from the room to fetch a coat.

“I’ll be in the carriage house, ma petite ,” Mrs. Pettigrew called after her.

“I’ll join you in a moment,” Chastity called back.

Mrs. Pettigrew followed her stable master and hurried across the snow-covered expanse of back lawn and gardens to the carriage house and stable at the back of the property. When she finally reached the carriage house, she caught her breath and went inside. “Now, what’s all the fuss…”

“Shhh,” Mr. Prosser said and held a finger to his lips. He stood next to an open carriage door and pointed at something inside. “There,” he whispered.

Mrs. Pettigrew raised a suspicious eyebrow and joined him. “Oh!” She lowered the hand that was now at her chest and stared at the ragamuffin wrapped in her wool lap blanket. “What’s this?”

“I found her, and tried to wake the child, but she barely stirs, ma’am,” Mr. Prosser explained.

“I don’t think that’s a child, but a young lady.” Mrs. Pettigrew reached into the carriage and put a hand against the young woman’s forehead. “Goodness gracious, she’s burning up! Fetch a doctor, quick!”

“Yes, Mrs. Pettigrew, right away!”

“And send Tugs and Mrs. Fraser out here, oh, and see if Mr. Simpson is home. If he is, send him over. We need to get her into the house.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Mr. Prosser left the carriage house just as Chastity entered.

“Adelia, what’s wrong?” Chastity joined her and looked in the carriage. “Oh my! Who is she?”

“I have no idea, but she must have sneaked in here to escape the cold last night.” Mrs. Pettigrew sighed. “Look at her clothes, ma petite . She is certainly not from around here. Most curious.”

“A servant maybe?”

“No, look at her pale skin, her gaunt features. She’s known hunger. We will get her to the house, put her in a guest room, and let Dr. Gibbons see to her. I’ll not have the poor thing die in my carriage.”

“Die?!” Chastity exclaimed.

Mrs. Pettigrew gave her a grave look. “She burns with fever, ma petite . I only hope we found her in time.”