Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

October, 1870

Canvas Creek, Montana Territory

J ess McPharland stood amidst the rows of dry goods filling the general store, eyeing the shelves stocked with sewing supplies. She’d already located the list of medicines she needed, along with food and a few other items. Now for fabric. She and her father both needed a few more winter clothes.

Father didn’t allow her to come to Canvas Creek often, mostly because he didn't want to be bothered with accompanying her. If only he would let her leave the area around their caves without chaperones—or guards , one might say. He said it was for protection, but she knew better.

Today, Father and Jedidiah had come with her.

She scanned the room until she found the small, wiry man standing near the far wall. Deep creases lined his weathered face, and his dark eyes missed nothing. Even though he watched from across the space, the weight of his gaze followed everywhere she went. Always ready. That was why Father trusted him so much.

He ranked as second-in-command for all of Mick McPharland’s operations. If Father had any dirty business going on, Jedidiah could be found in the middle of it. And if there was honest work to be done, he might be found there too.

For now, though, she could pretend she was free. Free to shop and enjoy herself without worrying about what Jedidiah thought of her. Maybe she could even forget for a little while that she wasn't her own person.

She would always be Mick McPharland's daughter, and he'd never let her escape his control.

He didn't know about the baby yet. As far as she could tell, no one did. She’d known for a little more than two months now, and she had to get away before anyone found out.

She had to find a way to escape.

Freedom. From Father, from this place, from…from all of it.

A voice on the other side of a rack pulled her attention, and she strained to listen without turning.

Jedidiah would come over if he thought she was talking to someone.

“I saw you put that in your pocket.” The man’s words were firm but not angry.

She couldn’t see him or whoever he spoke to, but a young boy’s voice squeaked an answer. “I didn't.”

Did this man think the lad intended to steal?

Jess moved closer to the end of the shelf so she could step around if needed. If the man worked for the store, he might reprimand the lad, and who knew how far he’d take things. Maybe she could intervene before the punishment got out of hand.

“Are you sure?” The man's tone stayed calm. “I saw something go into your pocket. If it did, we need to take care of it right now.”

His tone never rose in anger, nor dipped into that steel-laced rage Father sometimes used.

Most men would have grabbed the boy and yelled or hit him.

Another pause stretched, then the boy mumbled, “I'll put it back.”

"That's not what I meant." The man sounded like he was trying to hold back a smile. "I want you to take it up to the counter and tell Mr. Smith what you were going to do with it. Then apologize and promise him you won't ever do it again."

This wasn’t the store owner. Did he work there? Whoever he was, he was a different sort of man than she was used to. Kind but firm, even in the face of poor behavior.

A rustling followed his words. "Here." The man’s voice held out the last word as if he were offering something.

Jess had to see who this stranger was. She peeked around the end of the shelf, but only saw the back of the man holding out a nickel.

The lad’s wide eyes stared at the coin. “You’re gonna buy it for me?”

The man nodded. “Only if you mean it when you tell the owner you’ll never steal again.”

Relief washed over the boy's face. “Yes, sir, I will.” He took the money and trotted to the front of the store.

Jess ducked behind the rack before anyone could see her watching them.

As the boy spoke with the clerk, her mind spun. Who was this man? She’d never heard anyone talk to a child like that, let alone one who'd been caught stealing. He wasn’t going to punish him?

Boot thuds sounded from around the corner, fading quickly. The man must have stepped away.

She moved back to the bolts of fabric. Father would come to pay for her selections soon, and she had to be finished.

The stranger’s voice carried over the barrels between them as he spoke to the storekeeper. “I’ll take another bag of flour too, if you have it.”

As she pulled out a roll of blue plaid, she glanced at the man. He looked younger than she’d expected. Broad shoulders filled out his flannel shirt, and his wavy hair was cut shorter than most men wore it.

Maybe he felt her eyes on him because he turned, and their gazes locked for an instant before he dipped his chin and looked away.

He turned to the wall beside the counter where several posters had been tacked up. Wanted signs, most of them. Probably put up by lawmen looking for criminals. And a few job postings.

"Any sign of your brother?" Mr. Smith's question pulled the stranger’s attention back.

“I was going to ask you the same.” Those broad shoulders slumped a little.

The storekeeper leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. "Sorry. I haven’t seen him come through here. I asked Wally to watch for him too. You want me to leave the sign up?"

The stranger dipped a nod. “If you don’t mind.”

After Mr. Smith handed the man his change and they made arrangements to pick up the goods, the fellow strode out into the blustery fall day.

She carried the blue plaid to the stack of other supplies she’d selected. This would be enough for today. She wanted a look at that sign.

To see it, she had to move closer to Jedidiah, which meant he might start asking questions, but she could evade him well enough. She’d certainly had plenty of practice.

At the wall of notices, she was pretty sure she could tell which one the men had spoken of. The paper was newer than the others, not yet yellowed or faded. And not posted by a lawman with a reward listed. On this flyer, the sketch of a face took up most of the page, a name lettered across the top.

Sampson Coulter

Underneath, only a short message:

Twenty years of age, brown hair, able miner.

Family seeking to locate.

Reward for information leading to location.

Her insides stirred as the name slowly unwrapped recognition within her. Could it be the same Coulter? She’d never heard the man’s given name.

Those eyes were unmistakable. So was the shape of the jawline.

Coulter. One of the newer men working in her father's mine.

He must be the brother of the stranger who just left this store.

She had to work to keep from spinning toward the door. Did she dare go after him to tell him she knew his brother? Would Jedidiah allow it if she asked to? Probably not. Perhaps if she went to speak to a woman or child, but not a man. And she didn’t dare risk Jedidiah’s anger.

She eased out a breath, long and slow so the drop of her shoulders wouldn’t be noticed from behind. If she searched for the stranger, she would only put them both in trouble. Maybe she could get him a message through Mr. Smith. Maybe even a note. But what could she tell him? That Sampson Coulter’s brother should come out to the most remote mountain around and search until he found a cave? That his brother worked somewhere within?

That would be a disaster for both Coulters. And she couldn’t bring herself to put any man at the mercy of her father—especially one who’d just showed such kindness to a child.

J ess smoothed the patchwork quilt atop her narrow cot, her fingers lingering on the frayed edges. She should stitch a new coverlet soon. Not today though. Father said he would be gone most of the day for some kind of meeting, and sunlight filtered through the cave's mouth, beckoning her outside.

She strode to the opening and adjusted the belt on her split riding skirt as she stepped from their cave dwelling. She was rarely allowed to actually ride in this skirt, but she could move more freely as she explored the mountainside. She'd braided her waist-length hair down her back, and she wore her usual shirtwaist and boots. Not exactly ladylike attire, but practical for life in this mountain wilderness.

The crisp breeze almost made her turn back for a coat, but with the sun so bright, she could manage. If she got too cold, she could always run to warm herself. Maybe a bit of exertion would release the tension that had her insides knotted.

Her hand drifted to the slight bump of her belly. Would jostling hurt the baby?

As she maneuvered the narrow path up the slope, weaving around pines and cedars, her boots crunched against the rocky terrain. The fresh mountain air filled her lungs, and for a moment, she could almost forget the weight of her troubles. Almost.

She paused at a small outcropping to stare out over the sprawling wilderness below. Somewhere in the distance, a hawk cried out, its piercing call echoing through the valley. She closed her eyes, letting the sound wash over her. If only she could sprout wings and fly away. But Father’s reach was long, his web of informants and enforcers spread far and wide. Even if she managed to slip away, how long before they tracked her down again, dragging her back to this cage?

The thought made her stomach churn. She couldn't let herself be shackled to Stuart Wallace, the man Father had said he’d force her to marry—another man as controlling as her own father, who saw her as nothing more than a pawn in his games of power.

She sank to her knees on the rocky ground and sat back on her heels, staring up into the heavens. "Please, God." Her voice broke through the peace around her, but speaking aloud seemed to make the prayer more real. "I need help. I need a way out of this darkness. Show me how I can get away for good.”

The wind had shifted to a gentle breeze, and the sun’s warmth lifted the chill completely.

She considered pretending to want to work in the business. If she did, would Father allow her to move to Fort Benton to act as a shipping agent? The time she and Mama had gone there on holiday had been wonderful. They’d been free to shop and visit the bakery and peruse every store in town. That was one of her favorite memories with Mama.

But Father wouldn’t allow it. He hated for Jess to go anywhere near the mine, and he never spoke of his work. He allowed her to tend injuries and sickness among his men—most of the time. He surely wouldn’t let her join him in the business. Not that she wanted to have any part in his schemes. Freedom wouldn’t be worth the guilt she’d feel every day she helped him.

Sorry, Lord, for even thinking of that idea.

If she went along with his plan to marry her to Mr. Wallace, could she run away from him? No. Her father would send Jedidiah and his men after her. Even as Mrs. Wallace, Jess would still be under her father’s thumb. Her husband’s too.

A shiver slid through her, and a knot coiled in her middle.

She had to avoid the marriage.

But how?

She closed her eyes, keeping her face to the sun. “Lord, I need You. I don’t know what to do. Send the right person to help me get away.”

She let herself linger like that, soaking in the peacefulness. The warmth on her skin.

She didn’t hear an answer from God, but this quiet contentedness felt a little like the Lord wrapping his arms around her. If only she could stay cradled in them, relishing this moment always.

The sound of horse hooves clicking against rock drifted from below, and she opened her eyes. Had Father returned already? This was far from his usual route home, so he must have come looking for her. She pushed to her feet and waited, hands clasped in front of her. She’d done nothing wrong, and he wouldn’t begrudge her this short walk since she’d already set the house in order.

But the thought of seeing him made her insides tighten, maybe because of the secret she kept from him.

The horse and rider rounded the bend, and her breath caught. Not her father.

The man from the store—Coulter.