Hearts Searching for Home West (A Western Historical Romance #Collection)

Prologue

Lockhart, Texas

Josie sat beside Amelia’s bed, her fingers trembling as they rested on her sister’s damp, fever-ridden hand.

She felt guilty being so angry at her. Part of her wanted to shake her; to demand she get better.

But she knew that wouldn’t do a darn bit of good.

Amelia didn’t want to be sick. She had a lot left to live for.

More than Josie did, even.

Her throat clutched in sadness as she gazed down at her silent sister. The dim glow of the oil lamp cast a shadow across Amelia’s pallid face. Her once-rosy complexion was reduced to nothing more than a ghostly shade of white. Sweat clung heavily to her forehead.

Her breaths came in shallow, uneven gasps, but Josie didn’t—couldn’t—pay attention to those.

Instead, she chose to look at the long eyelashes she’d always envied when they were little; Amelia’s soft, delicate skin; her full lips; the dark brown curls that cascaded around her pillow.

They contrasted heavily now against her pale skin.

It wasn’t fair. That fever had ravaged her body completely.

Just as it had their mother.

Josie's throat constricted again with emotion, but she refused to cry. Not yet. Not while Amelia still clung to this thin thread of life. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she adjusted the quilt over her sister’s frail body, tucking it around her as if she could shield her from the inevitable.

As if she could somehow tuck her away so tightly that no monster could ever get to her, not even this fever.

Amelia’s lips parted in a weak smile, and her faded blue eyes—another thing Josie had always envied—flicked open. They glistened with gentle affection. Her lips parted, and she spoke in a hoarse voice. “Do you remember how we used to run through Mama’s sewing scraps?”

Josie let out a shaky laugh, brushing a damp curl from her sister’s forehead. “I do. We’d throw them in the air like money, pretending they were our riches.”

A faint chuckle escaped Amelia’s lips, but it quickly turned into a cough that rattled in her chest.

Josie’s heart clenched, but she forced herself to remain calm.

She deserves someone who can be strong for her.

Clearing her throat, she leaned over to the side table and grabbed a tin cup of water. “Have some,” she said softly.

Amelia nodded and leaned forward, lips trembling as she sipped from the rim of the cup. Everything she did seemed to expend so much energy.

“And Papa,” she went on as the coughing fit subsided, her voice so small that Josie had to lean closer to hear. “How he’d scoop us up and spin us around every night after he finished working outside…”

Josie nodded, a sudden warmth spreading over her. These were Amelia’s fondest memories. She seemed to be recalling them all now. Josie was glad for it, honestly, because they were also her favorite memories.

Papa’s laughter had been so loud—boisterous and rolling; it filled every inch of the home they’d grown up in. It was her favorite sound. Even to this day. His arms had always been open for hugs. Even in the times he struggled the most, he never let them feel unloved.

He was a good man. An honorable man.

Tears welled in Josie’s eyes, but she blinked them away quickly. Be stronger than that.

“He would have been so proud of you taking care of me,” Amelia said, her eyes darkening a bit. “I wish I’d listened to you. I should have run sooner.”

“Don’t,” Josie warned, shaking her head. “None of that matters now.”

But it did matter.

If Amelia had left that good-for-nothing man before he had stripped her of her whole spirit—before the bruises and all the nights she’d spent sitting up, trembling in fear—maybe she wouldn’t be lying here now, her body too weak to fight anymore.

Amelia turned her head ever-so-slightly. She looked at the wooden cradle at the foot of the bed, and Josie followed her gaze.

Inside, Samuel was sleeping, his tiny fists twitching in his sleep.

“Promise me,” Amelia rasped, her fingers brushing over Amelia’s hand before clutching it tightly. “Promise me you’ll protect him. That you’ll never let Randall take him.”

Randall. Randall Pierce, the scumbag who had caused all this.

The reason Amelia was dying now.

Josie tensed with anger at the sound of his name. The thought of him disgusted her, but the thought of him sinking his claws into Samuel was even worse.

“I promise,” .she said through gritted teeth “I won’t let him take Samuel. No matter what it takes.”

I’ll die first.

Amelia sighed with relief, her lips curving into a slight smile. She took in a breath, as if she was going to say more, but nothing but a rattle came from her throat… and then her hand went limp in Josie’s grasp.

“Amelia—!”

But by the time the name left Josie’s mouth, her sister had already drawn one single shuddering breath, and her chest had become still.

She was gone.

A silence filled the room, a hollowness that leeched into Josie’s body, into her head.

It was the kind of silence that made her all-too-aware of the smallest sounds, as if they were deafening.

Her breath she could hear in her ears, almost as loudly as the pounding of her heart.

A strangled sob caught in her throat, but she swallowed it as best she could.

Leaning down, she brought her lips to Amelia’s still hand and placed a small, tender kiss on top of it.

I made her a promise. I’ll see it through. But she had no idea how she would do it by herself. Especially here in Lockhart. They’d come here on the run. No one knew them—not really. The shopkeeper and his wife did, but only because the two sisters had rented this room from them by the week.

And the couple still knew nothing of the sisters, of their pasts, where they’d come from. They knew none of it because no one could.

We couldn’t risk being found.

Because they’d been on the run from Randall.

Samuel whimpered in his cradle, pulling Josie out of her trance. Quickly, she took a shaky breath, wiped away the trails of tears down her cheek, and stood up. The baby’s whimper turned into a full cry, as if he could already somehow sense what was happening.

Leaning forward, Josie gathered him up and held him against her chest. “I know,” she murmured, trying not to sob. “I already miss her, too. I’ll keep you safe… I swear it.”

***

The morning sun had popped up over the horizon, but Josie hadn’t closed her eyes all night. She couldn’t bring herself to.

Her body ached, and her hands still trembled with fear and grief. The weight of exhaustion pressed heavy on her equally heavy eyelids. Yet she stayed awake, staring blankly out the window with Samuel nestled in her arms.

The same haunting image was burning itself in her mind—Amelia’s final breath, again and again, an unending moment that she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to escape.

The baby stirred in the crook of her arm, his tiny mouth parting with a sleepy sigh. She ran a gentle finger along his delicate cheek. His face was scrunching. He was about to cry. No doubt he was hungry.

At least he was actually able to sleep through the night these days.

It was almost as if Amelia had been waiting to pass until he was weaned.

But he wasn’t. Not yet. Not quite. They’d scraped together money to buy extra milk from a wet nurse in town, and when that ran out, they’d used cow’s milk, though it had been hard on his belly.

And now…?

Josie sighed as she pulled herself up to stand, careful not to disturb him too much. She hated the thought of someone so small, so helpless, carrying such a heavy burden. A mother who was gone, and a father—

Not a father. No father would treat the mother of his child like this.

Josie gazed down at the baby’s troubled face. How am I going to protect him from it all?

A sharp knock at the door jolted her out of her trance, spiking her pulse in fear.

No one ever visited.

She swallowed hard and carefully placed Samuel down in his cradle. Her heart was drumming in her chest as she went to the door, and her hand trembled as she grabbed the doorknob. “Who is it?” she called out, trying to gather herself.

“Miss Josie, it’s Mrs. Guthrie.”

Josie recognized the elderly woman’s voice at once. Relief flushed through her.

Not Randall.

It was just Mrs. Guthrie, the shopkeeper’s wife. Hers was a kind voice. Gentle. But now it sounded almost… troubled. “I came to check on dear Amelia,” she continued. “I came to see if either of you need anything.”

I’ll have to tell her…

Josie took a deep breath, yet she still hesitated for a moment, fingers heavy on the brass handle, before turning it with a heaving breath and pulling it open. The hinges let out a wild creak before revealing the concerned face of Mrs. Guthrie.

Despite the temporary nature of the sisters’ arrangement, Mrs. Guthrie was the closest thing to a neighbor and friend that Josie had. She had always seemed to have a soft spot for the two sisters, bringing them fresh bread and the latest news of town.

Josie had often wondered if the couple felt sorry for them—two girls with a baby and no men to help.

But it didn’t matter. Their kindness still meant a lot.

Josie blinked a few stray tears away and stepped aside to allow the woman in. “Amelia is…”

Gone. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to say the word. All she could manage was a brief gesture toward the bed, where its silent occupant lay, face covered by the bedsheet.

Understanding, sorrow, and compassion crossed Mrs. Guthrie’s face in quick succession. “The fever took her quick, then,” she said quietly, looking pained, as she pressed a wrinkled hand to Josie’s arm. “I’m so sorry…” Her hand was cool and soft, yet somehow, warming.

Josie swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. “I have to bury her. I can’t—I can’t afford a proper burial. But I can’t leave her here, either.”

Mrs. Guthrie patted her arm gently. “We will figure something out. There’s a little place just past the ridge where others have been laid to rest. I will get David to dig the grave.”

Josie’s chest tightened with gratitude, but her relief was short-lived. She still had Samuel to protect, and Randall was still out there, no doubt searching for them. And it was only a matter of time before he found them.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible with the strain in her throat.

As Mrs. Guthrie went to the bedside to tend the body, Josie turned back to Samuel, unable to watch.

She had promised Amelia she would protect him, and she intended to keep that promise. No matter what it took, she would find a way to keep Randall from taking him.

Even if it meant running through the night and never looking back.