Chapter One
Josie Tate loved spring.
At least, she used to.
She’d loved the warmth. The smell of fresh blooms. The fact that everything was starting to blossom. Spring was beautiful. It gave new life, and it was something she always looked forward to.
But that joy was gone now. Today was the first day of spring, yet she felt like she was suffocating.
The streets of Lockhart were busy these days with the warmer weather. Women hung laundry; shopkeepers were sweeping their stoops or tidying their windows; the blacksmith was hammering away at his anvil.
Life was moving on.
Without her.
She was struggling to keep her head above water as everything else sailed slowly past.
It had been weeks since Amelia had succumbed to her fever, and since then, Josie had done everything in her power merely to survive and keep Samuel safe.
She had thrown herself into working as a seamstress for hire as often as she could, yet that was barely enough to make ends meet.
She had been sewing, long into the night, so long that her fingers were now blistered.
She had been mending trousers, stitching dresses, taking on any amount of clothing that meant she could put food on the table and pay for her rent.
Tonight was one of those nights. Her hands trembled as she pinned another hem with a twitching clumsiness. Her fingers and wrists ached terribly, but she couldn’t afford to take her time. This dress had to be finished by morning.
I’d rather be anywhere else.
She hated the fact that she and Amelia had been forced to leave their family’s ranch and move to Lockhart.
She missed home more than anything. Especially now, with all the whispers that followed everywhere she went.
Even though she and Amelia had lived quietly, there were still those unkind rumors they’d always had to avoid or outrun.
And they’d just gotten worse since Amelia’s passing.
But Josie wasn’t surprised. A young woman living alone with a baby? No husband? No family? There were bound to be whispers.
Samuel stirred in his cradle, letting out a soft whimper, and she immediately abandoned her work to scoop him up before he could start crying.
He had been doing a lot of that recently.
“Shh, little love,” she whispered against the soft curls that had been growing out over the last couple of weeks as she rocked him gently. “We don’t want to wake the whole town now, do we?”
He nestled into her shoulder, his tiny little fingers curling around a lock of her hair.
She looked down at him, managing to stifle the cry that had been flowing out for weeks now.
He had Amelia’s blue eyes, and it was hard to look at them.
They even held the same sort of pain in them. The pain of loss.
Josie kissed his forehead, her heart clenching. How much longer can I keep him safe?
A sharp rap at the door sounded, and her pulse thundered in her ears. She clutched Samuel closer out of pure instinct of protecting him, then forced herself to let out a long breath. It was probably Mrs. Guthrie again, reminding her to get some rest.
But when the second knock came—much harsher this time—her gut told her otherwise.
“Josie Tate.” It was a man’s grating voice, turning Josie’s blood to ice. “I know you’re in there.”
She would know that voice anywhere. It was a voice she despised, a voice like snake’s venom, toxic and deadly.
Randall Pierce.
Amelia’s husband. That mud-sucking, low-life tyrant.
Josie’s blood ran cold as she pressed a hand over Samuel’s back, praying that he wouldn’t cry out. She tried to focus on his warmth as terror and hatred clawed its way up her throat.
How did he find us?
“Josie!” A sharp blow rattled the door, shaking the frame. “Open this doggone door! Or I’ll break it down!”
She didn’t even want to breathe, afraid he might hear her.
How can I get out of here?
Panicked heartbeats flooded her chest as she stared wildly around the room, searching for an escape.
There—the back entrance. The one no one else knew about or used, except for Mr. and Mrs. Guthrie.
Randall slammed his fist against the door again, and Josie took off to the back room, heart in her mouth as his shouts followed her through the door. “You think you can keep my son from me? He’s mine, Josie. You hear me? Hand him over, and I might let you walk out of this alive!”
She swallowed the bile rising in her throat.
Randall Pierce had been nothing but a nightmare.
In Amelia’s life, and now in hers. He had completely destroyed Amelia.
There was no way she would let him come here now and tear Samuel away from her.
As long as there was breath in her body, he’d never lay a hand on Samuel.
Especially not when Samuel was all she had left of her sister, all she could do to keep her promise.
If Randall wanted the little child, he would have to kill her first.
Samuel’s face scrunched, he let out whimpering cries from curled lips. Josie didn’t blame him. He was probably just as afraid as she was with all the banging and yelling. She pressed a kiss to his cheek as she ran toward the wooden wardrobe beside the back window.
The back exit was hidden behind the wardrobe, and it led into an alley between the boarding room and the shop.
Josie managed to shove the wardrobe away from the wall with one hand, desperation lending strength to her body.
The door in the wall looked just wide enough for her and Samuel to slip through.
Randall was still shouting, still pounding against the door in the other room.
It was now or never. Josie pivoted and grabbed a small satchel she’d left on the floor, with barely more than a few coins and one singular change of clothes for both of them.
She flung the strap over her shoulder and then slipped through the door, hoping Samuel could keep quiet when they got outside.
Just in time. Behind her, she heard the crash of the door splintering open.
“Josie!” Randall’s bellow was followed by the hollering of men close by—men who must have been waiting out front.
Fear drove Josie’s legs now. She sprinted down the dark alleyway, away from the noise, not daring to wait even a moment to call for help. Skirt tangling around her legs, she wove her way through back streets, behind old barns, clinging to the shadows.
There was no time to stop, no time to plan. She simply ran.
She was afraid. More afraid than she’d ever been, now that she didn’t have Amelia to run with. Now that a dangerous man was already threatening her ability to keep her final promise to her sister.
Her lungs burned as her feet pounded hard against the dirt.
She kept between storefronts, weaving through alleys and behind buildings.
Anything to keep off the main street. She didn’t want to draw attention.
She didn’t want him to find her. She hated to admit it, but she was sure he was faster—but she was smarter.
The streets were silent, the windows closed. The loudest sound was the roar of her heartbeat in her ears. She didn’t stop running all the way through town until she reached the open plain beyond, stretched out peacefully beneath the night sky.
The tall grass whipped at her; dust rose in thick clouds from her hurried pounding steps. Samuel was crying loudly against her chest now, and she kept her arms wrapped tightly around him, shielding him as best she could.
She just kept running.
As far as she could… as long as she could. It was dark, and the night was quickly cooling; she worried about Samuel getting too cold. But it would have been far worse for him if she had stayed, or even if she had hesitated a few moments longer before leaving.
All the times they’d run before, they’d had some idea of where they were going. But now, she had no direction. No plan. Only a desperate need to get as far away from Randall Pierce as she could.
***
She didn’t know how long she ran before her body finally succumbed to exhaustion. Her knees buckled suddenly beneath her, and she collapsed into the prairie grass, legs turned to lead, immoveable.
Panting heavily, she looked up to the sky. The stars stretched like a peaceful blanket above her.
She cursed under her breath in a moment of madness, exhaustion. The stars need to pay attention. How dare the night be so peaceful when Randall was after her and Samuel?
…And then her senses returned, and her breaths came in ragged sobs as she painfully pulled her feet in and managed to sit up.
Her body was aching terribly. She wanted nothing more than to lie there for the rest of the night. But she couldn’t sit out in the middle of nowhere. Not with a baby.
I have to get up. I have to keep going.