Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

March 1870

Silver Dollar, Montana Territory

J onah Coulter gripped the stack of posters bearing Patsy's description as he strode down the bustling main street of Silver Dollar, the latest in an endless string of mining towns in this exhausting, fruitless search. After four months of hunting, he was bone-weary, but he'd done almost nothing by way of actually locating little Anna's aunt.

The only real progress he'd made was ruling out women and towns from his list of possible places Patsy of unknown surname could be. Had he really thought he could find a woman in this vast Montana Territory with only her first name and hair color? A fool's delusion.

As he approached the weathered facade of the Silver Dollar Saloon, the raucous laughter spilling from within turned his stomach. Would Patsy frequent this kind of place with her new husband? If so, would she even be a suitable guardian for the seven-year-old girl he'd found in the woods on his family's mountain ranch. But he'd promised to search for Anna's Aunt Patsy and, if she still remained in the Montana Territory, to find her and bring her back. The poor girl's grandmother, who'd been traveling with her, had died, and this aunt was her only remaining family.

Jonah stepped up to the board beside the saloon door, where other notices were posted, and pulled a nail from his satchel. He positioned it so his blow would secure the paper into the wood. Patsy's vague description, penned in his most legible script, stared at him from the topmost sheet. He drew a steadying breath and stepped forward for his task.

A few men drifted from the saloon as he finished nailing the notice. They seemed interested, so he stepped back in case any of them recognized the description.

The pungent aroma of sweat, tobacco, and whisky clouded the fresh air as one of the men murmured something indecipherable to another. They both chuckled.

A third fellow, his dark beard matted enough to hide a small animal, raised a tin cup in salute. "Sounds like a looker. She your'n?"

Jonah gave a hard shake of his head. "My family's taken in her niece. She's the girl's last kin. If any of you know of her, I'd appreciate you pointing me in the right direction."

The man who'd first laughed with his companion gave a toothy grin. "I knew a redhead once. She was a feisty thing."

Jonah raised his brows, a seed of hope planting in his chest. "She still around here?"

The miner shook his head. "Naw. That was back in Indiany. She was the kinda gal who stuck with ya, though."

The guy had the nerve to wink, and Jonah had to clench his jaw to keep from giving the man a lesson about how women should be treated. The men in these towns were all the same. They had no useful information. They just wasted Jonah's time with their crude remarks.

He was ready to move on to the next establishment when the bearded man spoke up again. "Ya know, I might've seen a gal like that a few months back. She was passing through on a freight wagon, heading west outta town."

Hope tried to break through Jonah's exhaustion. "You're certain? A young woman with red hair?"

The miner scratched his matted beard. "Couldn't miss that fiery mane o' hers. Overheard her telling the driver she was meeting up with her new husband."

New husband. That matched what Anna had said. "Any idea where they were headed?" Jonah worked to keep the desperation from his voice.

The man shrugged. "Sorry, friend. Didn't catch that part. But there's only a couple of towns big enough for settling down in that direction. You might try Sweetwater Springs or Prospect Falls."

Jonah nodded his thanks but felt anything but encouraged.

More towns, more dead ends. But he couldn't return to Anna and his family empty-handed, couldn't fail this last bit of purpose that kept him going.

He tipped his hat to the man. "Much obliged." He turned on his heel and strode away, leaving the men to their vulgar comments.

As Jonah paused outside the town's mercantile to post his next flyer, he gazed out at the mountains rising in the distance, their snow-capped peaks tinted orange by the late afternoon sun. Somewhere out there was a woman who held the key to a little girl's future. And come drought or snowstorm, he aimed to find her.

May 1870

Missoula Mills, Montana Territory

P atience shuffled the deck of cards with practiced ease, the worn edges slipping through her fingers like water over river rocks. The room was thick with cigar smoke and the sharp scent of whiskey, a heady mix that she'd grown accustomed to in her time working at the saloon. Her gaze swept over the players at her table, reading their tells and sizing them up with a gambler's instinct honed by necessity.

One man in particular drew her focus like a lodestone. He hunched over his cards, a scowl etched deep into the lines of his weathered face. The barkeep had pulled her aside when the fellow walked in, warning her in hushed tones to keep a watchful eye on him. That one's got a temper on him, he'd muttered. Liable to blow at any moment, and Lord help whoever's in his path when he does.

Patience watched him now, noting the pressure coiled in his shoulders, the way his fingers flexed and twitched toward the holster at his hip.

Like a snake preparing to strike.

Slowly, deliberately, she dealt the next hand, keeping her expression carefully neutral even as her heart thumped faster.

She'd seen his type before. He wasn't the cruel sort, the kind who bullied others when they didn't get what they wanted. No, this fellow looked to be one of those men who'd been pushed to the brink by the harsh realities of frontier life. Loss, desperation, the struggle to survive—they could break something inside a person until all that remained was rage. As much as she understood how that could happen, empathized even, she couldn't let his rage put the other patrons at risk.

Each card laid on the table ratcheted up the tension simmering in the air.

The man grew increasingly agitated, muttering curses under his breath as his losses mounted.

Patience maintained her composure, but beneath the table, her free hand drifted closer to the derringer tucked in the holster hidden under her skirt at her waist. A weapon of last resort, but one she knew how to use if it came to it. Better to defuse his anger before it exploded, if she could manage it.

She dealt the next hand slowly, using the moment to catch his eye. She gave him a smile that disarmed most men. "You seem to be having a rough night." She turned up the charm in her voice. "Perhaps a break would do you good. Clear your head a bit."

His scowl deepened, but he hesitated, his hand hovering over his cards.

She pressed on, keeping her tone pleasant. "I've seen many a man let the cards get the better of him. It's a hard thing to walk away when luck's not on your side. It takes a strong fellow. But from what I've seen, you've got that kind of strength in spades." She let her grin turn lazy, almost like a wink. "Besides, my friend Billy over there behind the counter owes me a favor. Two free rounds for you. On the house."

She held his gaze, watching the struggle play out behind those angry eyes. For a long, strained moment, it looked like his rage might boil over.

She was ready for him to lash out.

But then, slowly, he released a breath and pushed back from the table. "Reckon I'd be a fool to pass up two free drinks."

As he pushed back and tromped toward the bar, she caught Billy's eye and raised two fingers just high enough that he'd see them.

Billy gave a tiny nod. They'd done this several times now. Trouble always came in one form or another. It was her job to stay alert and ready for whatever hand fate dealt her next. Part of her role, anyway. Her other assignment was to increase the house winnings each night. Double them every month—that'd been her promise. Their agreement had been that if she didn't accomplish it in any month, she would go upstairs with the other girls .

No matter what, she wouldn't let that happen.

Jackson was a liar, for certain, but so far he'd held up his end of the bargain. She'd first come west after responding to his advertisement in the St. Louis paper for a mail order bride. She'd been desperate to escape her husband's killer and should have taken more time to ask questions.

Not that Jackson would have answered truthfully. He'd paid her fare on the steamboat to Fort Benton, then a wagon ride to Missoula Mills. It wasn't until she met Jackson and entered the saloon with him that she realized his true intentions. He didn't want a wife, he wanted another pretty face for his brothel upstairs.

Never had she done such and never would she. Thankfully, his greed overruled his stubbornness, and she'd convinced him she could double the profits of his poker room. If she didn't manage it in any given month, she'd agreed to join the other girls.

But she wouldn't. Not if she had breath left in her body. She'd think of something else to stop him.

So far, that hadn't been necessary. She'd accomplished it that first month, then the next, and now she would this month too.

She holstered her derringer with a hand that trembled more than it should, forcing herself to breathe past the tightness in her chest.

She managed a bright grin for the other fellows around the table. "One more hand, then I close the room for an hour. You boys go drum up some grub and meet me back here."

Maybe she shouldn't take this hour off each midday, but she'd be holed up in her dark, smoke-laced room half the night, and she needed a break for decent food and fresh air.

She let Nelson win the final hand, as he needed the cash more than the rest. The lad always sent his winnings back to his widowed mother. She was on track to make the house proceeds she had to for the month.

The men began to disperse, muttering among themselves as they filed out into the main area of the bar.

Best she slip out while she had a chance. After stacking the cards, she headed out the back door. The trading post was only three doors down, and a narrow walkway ran between the buildings so she could leave the alley and enter the store from the front like other customers.

The warm afternoon sun eased her tension as she made her way down the alley, then between the buildings to the boardwalk lining the main road through town. A glance through the front windows of the trading post showed the place was busy. She didn't want to face people just now, but she needed to get an order in.

Taking a deep breath, Patience pushed open the door and stepped inside, the tinkling of the bell overhead announcing her arrival.

The proprietor looked up, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Afternoon, Miss Whitman. What can I do for you?"

Patience returned the smile, hoping it didn't look as forced as it felt. After all the strain in her morning's work, she preferred not to have to face people and pretend all was as pleasant as spring in her life. "Just need to place an order. I'll be picking it up tomorrow around this time." After she was paid. She placed her list on the counter, and Mr. Higgins studied the items.

"I'll have that all ready for you in the morning." He lowered the note with a friendly smile. "Anything else I can help you with?"

She shook her head. "Thank you."

As she turned to go, the notice board on the side wall caught her attention. One of the papers fluttered in the breeze that swept in with a customer. She stepped closer, peering at it.

Her breath caught in her throat as she read the words, each one searing into her mind.

Reward: For information about a woman named Patsy, red hair, with a niece named Anna.

Patience's surroundings faded as she stared at the poster, her pulse pounding in her ears.

It couldn't be. How could anyone have found her out here? She'd been so careful, leaving no trace of her past life behind.

The description matched her perfectly, down to the color of her hair. And Anna... Dear, sweet Anna. How did the men who'd killed Michael know about her niece? And why use Hannah's daughter at all?

Where were Hannah and Phillip?

"Is everything all right, Miss Whitman?"

She jumped as Mr. Higgins's concerned voice cut through the fog of her thoughts. "Yes, everything's fine." She jerked away from the notice, but her behavior surely looked odd. Maybe it would be better to confront his suspicion squarely. Surely this man wondered whether she was the woman listed.

She motioned toward the paper. "This seems an odd notice. I'd wonder if they were looking for me"—she patted her high chignon of deep red hair—"except my name isn't Patsy." She gave a conspiratorial smile, then made sure her voice turned casual. "Who posted this, do you know?"

Mr. Higgins's brows furrowed. "A fellow named Jonah Coulter brought it in this morning. He's staying over at the hotel, I hear."

Her heart stuttered at the name. Coulter?

Could that be the man who had killed her husband? If only she'd stuck around the riverboat long enough to find out.

But if this was that cheating scoundrel, how could he have found her so quickly ?

She worked to keep her voice steady. "Well, I suppose I should stop and see this Mr. Coulter, just to clear up any confusion. Others might think I'm the one he's looking for."

Higgins nodded, then turned his attention to the next customer in line.

She meandered out of the store, her racing thoughts at odds with her casual step. She had to find out who this Jonah Coulter was and what he wanted with her.

As she walked briskly down the boardwalk toward the hotel, she did her best to calm her frayed nerves. She'd faced worse than this before and come out the other side. She could handle one man, no matter who he was or what he wanted.

But fear coiled in her gut like a snake, ready to strike. She couldn't shake the feeling that her past had caught up with her. That everything she was working so hard to build in this new life was about to come crashing down around her.

Taking a deep breath, Patience straightened her shoulders and quickened her pace.

She wouldn't let that happen. She'd fought too hard and come too far to let anyone take away her future now.

The hotel loomed ahead, its weathered facade casting long shadows in the afternoon sun. Patience paused outside the door, gathering her courage. Then, with a determined set to her shoulders, she pushed inside, ready to face whatever awaited her.