Prologue #3
Gideon Walker was the sort of man people lowered their voices to discuss.
He was tall and broad-shouldered and he carried himself with the confidence of someone accustomed to getting whatever he wanted.
His dark hair was carefully combed and his beard neatly trimmed.
A gold watch chain glinted across his vest. Everything about him spoke of wealth, but there was something else in his eyes.
Something cold and calculating, almost predatory.
Ruth had seen men become visibly nervous in his presence and she had heard stories whispered after church. Stories of families losing farms, of debtors beaten and threats delivered behind closed doors.
No one ever spoke too loudly because none wanted Gideon Walker’s attention. Unfortunately, it seemed she already had it. His gaze settled on her as he dismounted and a slow smile touched his lips. “Miss Turner.”
She forced herself to nod. “Mr. Walker.”
He glanced toward the house. “Is your father home?”
Before Ruth could answer, the screen door creaked open and Frank appeared in the doorway.
The sight of him would have been almost comical under different circumstances.
His shirt was wrinkled and his face pale and sweaty.
One hand gripped the doorframe to keep him upright.
The previous night’s drinking was written all over him.
Walker looked thoroughly unimpressed. “Frank.”
Frank swallowed visibly. “M-Mr. Walker.”
Walker reached into his coat and withdrew a folded document. “I’ve come regarding your debt.”
Frank’s face drained of what little color it had. Ruth looked between the two men with her stomach in knots. She knew her father owed money, but she did not know how much.
Walker unfolded the paper. “The amount currently owed stands at eight hundred and forty-two dollars.”
Ruth’s breath caught. The number was staggering… Impossible.
Frank laughed weakly, a desperate sound. “You know I don’t have that kind of money.”
Walker folded the paper again. “I know.”
The heat seemed to intensify in that moment. Even the birds had gone silent.
Frank rubbed a trembling hand over his face. “The livestock’s gone.” He gestured vaguely toward the property. “I got nothing left but this house—”
Ruth stepped forward without thinking. All she knew was they couldn’t lose the farm, too. If they did they would have nothing and that idea terrified her more than any amount of work could.
“I can earn it,” she said. “I sew. I mend. I’ll take more work. We can repay you.” Even as she spoke, she knew it was hopeless. Eight hundred dollars might as well have been eight thousand.
Walker regarded her thoughtfully and for what seemed like an eternity, he said nothing. His eyes moved slowly over her face, her hair and down her body, then back again.
The look in his eyes made Ruth uneasy. Then, he smiled. “Perhaps there could be another arrangement.”
A chill slid down her spine despite the heat.
“What arrangement?” Frank asked.
Walker kept his gaze fixed on Ruth. “I will forgive the debt.”
Frank straightened as hope flashed across his face.
“In exchange for your daughter,” Walker finished.
The world seemed to stop as Ruth stared at him; surely she had misunderstood. “You mean—”
“I will take Miss Turner as my wife.”
The words landed like a physical blow, knocking the air out of her lungs for a moment. “No,” she breathed.
Walker’s expression darkened as Ruth’s pulse thundered. Every story she’d ever heard about Gideon Walker rushed through her mind. The cruelty and the violence. The fear he inspired.
“I said, no,” Ruth repeated, her voice stronger now. She would rather live in poverty, would rather starve. She would rather—
“Done.” The single word came from behind her as Ruth whirled around to find her father smiling, relief shining on his face. “I accept.”
The blood drained from Ruth’s face. “Father—”
“The debt’s settled.” His voice sounded eager, as though a great burden had suddenly vanished.
Ruth stared at him in disbelief. “You can’t mean it.”
Frank avoided her eyes. Walker, however, looked entirely satisfied.
The reality settled heavily over her. Neither man had asked what she wanted. Instead, one had asked for her and the other had accepted. As though she were nothing more than a piece of property being traded between them. Her stomach twisted.
“Father,” she said, taking a step toward him. “Please.”
At last, he looked up. For one foolish second, hope flared inside Ruth, but it was fleeting. “What’s done is done,” he muttered.
Walker adjusted his gloves with deliberate care. “When shall we set the date?” he asked.
Frank cleared his throat. “The sooner the better.”
Walker nodded. “I will make the arrangements and return in a few days.”
With that, he turned and walked away. Ruth watched him go for a moment before turning back to her father, but he would not meet her eyes. Instead, he turned and disappeared into the house.
Ruth was left alone. The hot Texas sun beat down upon the yard and yet, she felt frozen. As though invisible walls were closing around her. Her gaze dropped to the wet shirt still clenched in her hands. Water dripped slowly from the fabric onto the dry earth below. One drop at a time.
She thought of her prayer the night before. Whatever comes, help me meet it with courage. A shiver ran through her. Because for the first time in her life, she truly feared what tomorrow might bring.