I take slow, shallow breaths to keep myself steady and keep my body loose and limber, ready to react as quickly as I can if this all goes sideways. I’m not much of a quickdraw artist but my aim is usually true and I’m pretty sure if it comes to it, I can get the bulge on them. I can take the pair of them, but my concern is that Addy is gonna get caught in the line of fire.

  “Our business is concluded when I say it is,” Zane hisses. “I want this land, Jackson. And I think you’ll find that when I want something, one way or another, I tend to get it.”

  I give him a smirk and shake my head. “We’re done here.”

  I turn and walk back toward the house, careful to keep myself between Zane and Addy. She’s looking at me with wide-eyed fear and confusion on her face so I gently take her by the elbow and guide her back toward the house with me. If I know Angel and Francisco half as well as I think I do, I know the both of them are somewhere around here, rifles in hand, ready to fight. But I don’t want it to come to that. I don’t want my land – my home – sullied by bloodshed.

  Zane calls to me from behind but I don’t break stride or turn around. I ain’t gonna give him the satisfaction because I know it’ll only encourage him.

  “This is far from over, Jackson. Y’hear me?” he shouts. “I’ll be seein’ you and your missus around. I’ll be seein’ the both of you real soon.”

  I get Addy into the house as quickly as possible and shut the door behind us. I move over to the window as casually as possible, so as not to alarm her, and take a look at the yard beyond. Just as I thought, both Francisco and Angel are out there, shotguns in hand, pistols on their hips. Zane and his man are already turned around and headed back up to the main road though, so I let out a quiet breath as the crisis passes.

  Maria bustles in and sets a tray with a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses down on the table then departs again without a word. When I turn around, I see Addy standing there looking at me with an expectant look on her face. I cross over to the table and pour a couple of glasses of Maria’s lemonade. I pick up one of the glasses and offer it to her but Addy continues to stand there. With a sigh, I set the glass down, but pick up the other and walk back over to the window, keeping an eye on the yard.

  “And who was that?” she asks.

  “Zane Weathers,” I tell her. “He owns the ranch down the road and a piece and half of Asbury.”

  “I got that from his introduction,” she says. “But who is he and why is he threatening you?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I reply.

  She puts her hands on her hips and stares daggers at me. “The fact that you and your men feel the need to approach the man armed to the teeth says it matters.”

  I sigh and take my hat off, dropping it on the small table next to the window. I know she wants answers but I don’t want her getting caught up in the middle of all this. Hell, I don’t want to be caught up in the middle of this. It’s a situation not of my own making but one I have to deal with all the same. And I guess given Addy’s position in my life, she’s entitled to know what she’s stepping into.

  “When you deal with a man like Zane Weathers, you’re wise to go heeled,” I explain. “He’s as likely to put a bullet in you as a rattlesnake is to bite you.”

  Addy falls silent for a moment then takes a seat at the table. She picks up her glass of lemonade and takes a drink as if considering my words. I see a ripple of fear pass across her face, but she tamps it out quick.

  “And why does he want your land?” she finally asks.

  It’s a question I’ve asked myself probably a thousand times already. But I ain’t come up with an answer for it. I take a long swallow of my lemonade and set the glass down at the table, taking my seat across from Addy and shake my head.

  “Truth is, I don’t know,” I tell her. “It ain’t any more valuable than his land or anything.”

  “You have no natural resources or anything that have value?”

  I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so. There’s nothin’ here he doesn’t have on his land.”

  She purses her lips. “Well, is he a business rival?”

  I shake my head again. “No, it ain’t that. He doesn’t raise or train horses,” I say. “He owns half the businesses in Asbury – the hotel, brothel, and all of the gaming.”

  She chews on her bottom lip, considering her next question. Addy is sharp, I can’t take that away from her. She’s asking questions I don’t think most people would even think of. Seems like picking up the slack for her family’s business made her tougher. Stronger. It seems to have prepared her for dealing with people like Zane. At least somewhat prepared her. I don’t think you can ever be fully prepared to deal with a man like Zane.

  “Well there’s got to be something here he wants,” she muses.

  I shrug. “I don’t know what it could be.”

  We sit in silence for a few long moments, neither of us certain what it is Zane’s after. Although he’s been pretty insistent about trying to get me to sell, over the last month or so, he’s been getting more aggressive in his pursuit of my land. Addy takes a drink of her lemonade and then fixes her eyes on me.

  “So what are you going to do about it?” she asks.

  “Don’t see what I can do about it.”

  “He threatened you, Jackson,” she presses. “He threatened us.”

  I open my mouth to reject the idea but close it again. It was more of a veiled threat, but she’s not wrong. Zane is a big talker – that much I know about him. He runs his mouth faster and longer than a thoroughbred can sprint.

  “It’s just words, Addy,” I tell her. “I don’t get riled up by words.”

  “It’s words for now, but –”

  I stand up suddenly and Addy shrinks back in her seat. She lifts her chin defiantly and looks at me with a stubborn expression on her face. She’s taking Zane seriously, which is a good thing. And while I appreciate her passion, she needs to learn that there is a time and a place for it.

  “I’m not goin’ in with guns blazin’, Addy. That ain’t gonna solve anything,” I explain. “Ideally, there ain’t gonna be any shootin’ at all. I don’t want blood to be shed on my – on our – land. In our home.”

  She looks at me with that expression of defiance on her face for a moment longer before it dissolves. Her face softens and she looks abashed. Pursing her lips, she nods.

  “You’re right. I apologize for overstepping –”

  “You have nothin’ to apologize for. This is your home too and I appreciate that you take it seriously,” I say. “And there may come a time when we have to solve the problem with steel. But we ain’t there yet.”

  She nods again. “I understand. And you’re not wrong.”

  I give her a small smile. “I’m gonna go wash up for supper.”

  I walk out of the room and although she apologized, I can still see that stubborn set to her jaw. She doesn’t approve of me letting Zane threaten us. I don’t like it either, but I have no desire to see more killing. I’ve seen too much of it in my life already.

  5

  Adeline

  I cross the yard, drawing curious glances from Maria, who is doing the wash out back and Francisco, who is working on the rear extension of the house. They are obviously no more used to seeing a woman in britches and a hat than people back home were. But, like the people back home, they will get used to it.

  Just as it was when I worked my family plantation, when I work on the ranch, I have no intention of doing so in a dress. Once upon a time, I was one of those women who would never be caught without a dress or my hair done properly. I was the perfect Southern lady. But when I had to take over for my father, I learned quickly that practicality trumps being perfectly dressed and coifed.

  And I have an agenda for the day.

  With a canteen slung over my shoulder, I head out into the forest that sits behind the house. It’s wild and untamed and as I head down the well-worn path, the trees are pressed close on either side. The canopy is high overhead, the foliage so thick that it blocks out most of the light. Here and there, shafts of sunlight spear down through the branches above me, but for the most part, the forest around me remains cloaked in gloom and thick pockets of shadow.

  The floor of the forest is covered in pine needles, decaying vegetation, and thick tangles of weeds so I have to pick my way along carefully to avoid turning an ankle or something worse. As I walk, I look around, not entirely sure what it is I am looking for out here but hope I will know it when I see it.

  The twigs beneath my feet are dry and snap between my feet as I make my way down the path. As I walk, my mind drifts back to the confrontation between Jackson and Zane the other day. I know I was a little harder on Jackson about it than I should have been. Of course, I did not want him to just start shooting and risk his own life. He was right that Zane did not do anything provocative enough to warrant a shootout.

  On the other hand, Zane triggered something deep inside of me. A sort of primal fear. And that’s because he reminded me so much of some of the people I remember from back home. Some of them had the same sense of entitlement Zane seemed to have. The sort of attitude that they could come in and take whatever it was they wanted without suffering the slightest repercussion.

  Zane had the same sort of demeanor and bearing of the soldiers who murdered my father and burned our farm down. And the same smug, arrogant attitude as the men the Governor sent in to seize our land. Of course, it terrifies me but at the same time, it enrages me. I have never felt as helpless and alone as I did when our land was being burned and then taken out from under us. There was nothing I could do and the pain it caused me was profound.

  So after that, I learned to shoot. I learned to fight and defend myself. After our land – my home – was destroyed and then stolen from me, I vowed that it would never happen again. I vowed that I would fight with my every breath and every drop of blood to defend what is mine. I lost everything once and I don’t intend to lose everything again.

  And that is why I find Jackson’s response – or rather, his lack of response, really – so troubling to me. His seeming lack of concern about Zane Weathers is concerning. “Just words,” is how he characterized Zane’s confrontation. He acted like the veiled threats Zane issued were no more substantial than air and he was so nonchalant about it all and he seemed to grow irritated with my concern.

  It is more than obvious that Jackson does not want this to come down to a fight. Neither do I honestly, but I am willing to fight if that’s what it takes to keep Zane from muscling in on our land. I am willing to do whatever is necessary to defend what is ours and keep somebody from taking it out from under us. And what concerns me is that I can’t say the same for Jackson.

  Maybe I am too aggressive or too willing to fight but Jackson’s passivity is troubling to me. He wears his guns on his hips but I don’t get the feeling that he would actually use them if it came down to it. I get the feeling that Jackson will do whatever is necessary to avoid a fight – even if that fight is inevitable. I hate feeling this way, but I have always been very truthful with myself and cannot deny my thoughts or feelings about this.

  When Jackson found my advertisement in that matrimonial catalog and we began corresponding, he conveyed such a strength and presence that was undeniable. I am not afraid to admit that I was smitten with him based on his words alone. Jackson is not the most eloquent of men and is not given to flowery words, but he’s well-spoken enough. He has had some education and speaks in a clear, plain language – which is something I appreciate. I never have to guess at his meaning or try to read the subtext of his words.

  And yet, the man I am getting to know now, although he has a good heart and is a decent man, does not have the same sort of presence or strength that first commanded my attention. It is not simply because he refused to draw down on Zane the other day. It is that his attitude seemed entirely passive as if he would simply roll over and give Zane our land and home if the man demanded it of him.

  Not that I think Jackson is a coward. I would never say that of him. I know Jackson has a quiet inner strength and I don’t believe that if backed into a corner, he would run from a fight. But I also believe he will do whatever is necessary to avoid being put into that corner, to begin with – including giving over what’s his. He doesn’t want to fight and while I can respect that in some instances, it makes me wonder if we are actually compatible together.

  Sweat rolls down my forehead and I pause for a moment to wipe it off with my sleeve. I take a look around and all I see is dense forest. I can hear the slow gurgle of the river from where I am. The lack of sunlight pouring in from above keeps things relatively cool out here and this deep in the forest, the trees are even more densely packed.

  It is quiet and peaceful with nothing but the sound of the river’s soft flow and the songbirds flitting from branch to branch overhead filling the air around me. It’s certainly beautiful out here, but I still don’t see what it is that could make Zane want this land so badly. It just doesn’t make sense.

  I cannot say how long I have been out here but I know it has been a while. I should probably get back before Jackson starts to worry. Turning in a circle, I make a mental note of where I am. I will be coming back out again to keep looking for what it is that Zane is after. I know there has to be something. It is the only thing that logically adds up given the lack of anything valuable or special about the land our ranch sits on.

  Our ranch.

  As I march back down the trail, headed for home, I think about everything. We haven’t yet signed the papers that will make us an officially married couple. Jackson said we’d head into San Francisco once we both felt ready and take care of that. But he is insisting that I get used to thinking of the ranch as ours, rather than his. He wants me to start thinking in terms of a married couple rather than a single woman anymore.

  For the first time since I arrived in California though, I begin to have doubts about this entire arrangement. I’ve lived through having my entire world destroyed and everything taken from me once already. I’d hoped to find a man to build a life and a family with. I’d hoped to find a genuine partner and somebody willing to fight to keep what’s ours.

  Jackson is a good man. He’s a good provider and I can see that he’d be a good father. He’s the kind of man I can see myself raising a family with. Maybe even falling in love with. I care for Jackson, but, we’ve hardly known each other long enough to call it love. There is an affection between us that is undeniable though.

  But I need a man willing to fight for that life I want to build and for the family we hope to raise. And for the first time since I stepped down off the train in San Francisco, I have to admit if only to myself, that I’m wondering if Jackson is that man.

  6

  Jackson

  “Where’d you go today?”

  I sop up some of Maria’s stew with her homemade bread and pop it into my mouth. Addy takes a long drink of water and dabs her lips with her napkin before turning her gaze to me. I see a defensiveness in her eyes as if I’m accusing her of something but I’m just trying to make simple conversation. I’d heard she went traipsing out into the forest so I’m curious.

  “I just went for a walk,” she replies. “I used to walk through the forest back home all the time.”

  I laugh softly. “The boys aren’t used to seeing a woman in britches. Caused quite a stir.”

  “When I worked the farm back home, I wore britches most of the time,” she tells me. “It’s just more practical than walking around in a dress.”

  “Fair enough.”

  I nod and even though I can tell there’s more to the story than she’s saying, which makes me curious. The fact that she feels the need to keep a secret from me is – interesting. She quickly looks back down at her bowl and spoons more into her mouth, guilt written across her face in big, bright letters. It’s amusing to me, actually.

  I remain silent and continue eating, never taking my eyes off her though, just watching her growing discomfort. She squirms in her seat and can’t bring herself to meet my eyes, increasing my amusement. But, it shows me she’s not a woman who is comfortable lying – even if it’s simply lying by omission. I can see by the way she’s acting that she’s somebody who strives to tell the truth no matter the cost. Which makes holding back whatever it is she’s holding back all the more interesting to me.

  And finally, as if she can’t take the silence anymore – or perhaps it’s just her guilt – she speaks.

  “Aren’t you even the least bit curious why Zane wants this land so bad?” she asks.

  I wash my food down with a long drink of water and nod. “Sure. I’m curious.”

  “And yet, you haven’t tried to find out what it is?”

  “Figure I’ll find out sooner or later,” I reply and take another spoonful of stew.

  Addy sits back in her seat, dabbing at her lips with her napkin, a look of frustration on her face. I really don’t know what she wants me to say here. Am I curious? Sure. Zane seems single-minded about getting my land out from under me. I’ve thought about it a lot but in the end, what is or isn’t here doesn’t matter. I ain’t gonna sell which means this whole situation is either gonna end when he gives it up, or we fight it out – which is the outcome I don’t want.

  “How can you be so casual about it, Jackson?” she seethes. “He’s threatening to take your home – our home – from us.”

  “And you figure me getting upset about it is gonna change that fact?”

  She pushes her bowl away from her and slumps back in her seat. “No but maybe if you stood up to him, he wouldn’t feel bold enough to threaten you the way he does.”

 

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