Chapter One
Deadwood, South Dakota
Nora Quinn sat between her parents, holding her baby sister close as the sun dipped low behind the Black Hills. Two-year-old Mary Jane was curled in her lap, half-asleep, letting Nora’s arm brush her soft curls.
“You’re safe, little bug. Just rest.” Nora leaned down and left a soft kiss on Mary Jane’s temple, the way Mother always used to do to her when she was younger. “Dream of cotton clouds and warm milk.”
The toddler’s tiny fingers clutched the edge of Nora’s shawl, and every so often she stirred, mumbling nonsense and blinking up with big, trusting eyes before drifting off again.
“You’ll wake up at home before you know it,” Nora went on. “I’ll carry you in if you’re still asleep. Like always.”
Nora couldn’t remember the last time they’d all ridden together like a family. It was just the four of them; no hands, no errands pressing them home. It felt like something borrowed from a happier time, when life was simpler.
“You know, Nora,” Father broke the silence, letting his elbow rest lazily on his knee. “Sheriff Maddox seemed really taken with you today.”
She groaned good-naturedly. “Oh, don’t start, Father.”
“He’s a good man,” Father insisted, as the carriage wheels creaked along the rocky trail. “He’s got good manners, a steady mind. Not to mention a good job. I’d wager a month’s beef that he's thinking of building himself a home.”
Nora laughed, moving a stray wisp of hair from her face. “Cade’s a friend. A really good one. You know that.”
“Friend now,” he said with a wink. “But that can change.”
She smiled, but her gaze drifted toward the hills. At twenty-one, she didn’t want to settle for something small and safe, even if Father meant well. Not with her heart still holding out for something true. Yet, she said nothing. Dreams were easier to cradle in silence.
She looked at Mother, who also smiled, though her eyes were fixed on the road. Nora knew Mother liked Sheriff Maddox too, probably more than she’d ever admit. But to Nora, Cade was someone who helped her down from a saddle or taught her to shoot straighter. Not someone she pictured at the altar.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden move. The carriage jostled, one wheel dipping into a rut. Father’s smile faded..
“Truth is,” he said, very low, “we might need more than laughter to get through this year.”
Nora felt a wisp of unease. “What do you mean?”
He glanced at Mother, then back to Nora. “Cattle prices are falling. Timber contracts haven’t come through. I’m not saying we’re out of money, but we’re not far from it. If something were to happen—”
“I can help,” she said quickly. “We can sell off the dry pasture, or maybe take in boarders again, or—”
“I know you would.” Father tried to speak more lightly, but his deep sigh of concern showed quite the opposite. “You’ve always had more grit than most men I know. But a partner wouldn’t be the worst thing, Nora. Not now.”
She’d barely opened her mouth to argue when the carriage jolted again, .
the movement so abrupt and sharp she had no time to process it.
She was thrown clear, still clutching Mary Jane to her chest. The baby was crying, the horses were screaming, and she couldn’t do anything about it.
Pain flared through Nora’s side. Her ears rang.
For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Then, she pulled herself upward a bit, to hands and knees.
“Mother?” Nora crawled with one hand, as her knees tore against stone and dirt. “Father!”
The carriage was on its side, crushed inward.
Nora saw Mother’s hand reach through a broken panel, her fingers slick with blood.
She grabbed hold, pulling, praying, whispering God’s name.
But the wood gave way with a hollow crack.
And then, to her horror, the structure collapsed further, swallowing her parents inside.
“No, no…Please!” Nora screamed her voice broken, but no one answered. Mary Jane’s cries were the only ones cutting through the silence.
“I’ve got you,” Nora went on numbly. Her own hands were trembling, bloodied at the knuckles, but she held Mary Jane tight against her chest. “Shhh, you’re all right, little bug. I’ve got you.”
The baby’s cries softened, then faded to quiet whimpers as she nestled into Nora’s shoulder.
When Nora pulled back slightly, Mary Jane blinked up at her with wide, tearful eyes.
Her lip was still trembling, but she didn’t cry again.
For one fragile moment, the world stilled, and somehow, even at two, Mary Jane seemed to know that Nora was all she had.
“I won’t leave you,” Nora whispered fiercely, buried her face in Mary Jane’s curls, and breathed in the living warmth of her. “Not now, not ever. I swear.”