Chapter Two
Ashland, Ohio
The sky was shading a vibrant pink at the edges by the time they turned up the drive. They were in for quite a spectacular sunset by the looks of things.
Luke noticed it the way he noticed most things at the end of a long day.
Distantly and dimly, without particular feeling.
The ranch stretched out on either side of the track, the fields quiet and still in the fading light.
The cattle settled for the evening in the lower pasture.
The barn doors stood open as he’d left them that morning. Everything was as it should be.
And he was thinking about supper. There was a good piece of salted pork waiting for him in the pantry.
It had rained heavily earlier in the day, and in places, the road was a mire, so they picked their way slowly.
Beside him, Liam was still talking.
His brother had been talking, with only the smallest of interruptions, for the better part of the last two miles.
This was by no means unusual. Liam Hunter had come into the world with a gift for talk.
He was a gabber. A charmer. Not like Luke.
Liam was a good rancher, a good husband, and apparently, an inexhaustible source of commentary on everything from fence posts to criminal activity in the surrounding counties.
“Timothy says it’s getting worse,” Liam was saying, his horse keeping an easy pace alongside Luke’s. “Three incidents in Shreve this month alone. Two in the last week.”
“Mm.”
“Outlaws coming through from the east, he thinks. Using the smaller towns as—what did he call it?” Liam frowned, reaching for the word. “Staging posts. Places to lie low between jobs. Shreve’s got no proper law to speak of, so it’s become…”
“A magnet,” Luke offered.
“Exactly. A magnet.” Liam nodded, satisfied. “Timothy’s keeping an eye on it, but there’s not much he can do from here. Different county. He’d have to go through proper channels, and you know how long that takes.”
Luke knew. He’d had enough dealings with law enforcement over the years to understand that proper channels was another way of saying by the time anything gets done, the trouble will have moved on and done the same thing somewhere else instead.
“He’s worried about it spreading, though,” Liam continued. “If Shreve gets much worse, those men will start looking for somewhere quieter to—”
He stopped.
Luke had already seen it and sat up straighter in his saddle, suddenly alert.
Jane was on the porch, and something in her posture said as clearly as words that something was wrong. She was pacing, wringing her hands.
She often came out to meet them in the evenings, particularly since her pregnancy had made the house feel oppressive by late afternoon.
But this was different. As they got closer, Luke could see that she had a piece of paper in her hand, folded and refolded into a small, creased square.
She was worrying it between her fingers, turning it over and over with sharp, agitated movements.
Liam swung down from his horse before it had properly stopped.
“Jane.” Liam was already moving toward the porch steps. “What’s happened?”
Jane stopped pacing. She looked at Liam, then past him at Luke, who had dismounted more slowly and was looping his reins around the hitching post with careful, measured movements. Her face was pale, and her eyes had a bright, strained look, almost feverish with emotion.
“A letter came,” she said breathlessly. “This afternoon.” She held it out to Liam. “It’s from Anna.”
Luke left his horse and moved toward the porch. He didn’t hurry. There was no point in his adding to the panic that was evidently brewing.
Liam unfolded the letter. The silence that followed was broken only by the evening birds in the tree line and the distant low of cattle.
Liam’s eyes moved quickly down the page, his brow drawing together as he understood its contents.
“Lord,” he said quietly when he reached the end.
“What does she say?” Luke asked, doing his best to disguise his curiosity, his concern.
Liam looked up. There was something careful in his expression. He was choosing his words, which was—to put it bluntly—not like him. He glanced at Jane, who gave a small nod.
“Her fiancé was unfaithful,” Liam said. “She found out.” He paused. “She’s left home.”
Liam exchanged another meaningful look with Jane.
Luke waited. There was clearly more.
“She’s entered a bride auction,” Jane said, since Liam appeared to be struggling with the delivery. “In Shreve.” She pressed her lips together. “The auction is tomorrow. If we’re to get there, we’ll have to leave soon.”
The words landed with a weight disproportionate to their number.
Luke looked at Jane. Then at Liam. Then back to Jane.
“Shreve,” he said flatly.
“Yes.”
He said nothing else for a moment. He looked out at the drive, at the last of the light draining from the western sky, and thought of every single thing that Liam had spent the past two miles telling him about the town of Shreve. That lawless place that gave its own sheriff sleepless nights.
A bride auction.
In Shreve.
Tomorrow.