Chapter 1

Shadow Valley, Texas - March 1872

The dust swirled around Bethany's boots, each gritty puff a stark reminder of the miles they'd traveled. She stretched, wincing as every muscle in her body protested. The rickety stagecoach had offered little comfort on their journey from Dallas, but freedom from that stifling town was worth every ache.

Bethany brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, her gaze falling on the tear in her mother's traveling dress. Desiree, with a practiced flick of her wrist, draped her shawl over the rip, avoiding eye contact. Bethany sighed. It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last, they were forced to hide tattered clothes and empty stomachs.

"Hurry up Samantha!" Desiree's sighed impatiently.

Bethany surveyed the small town. Children shrieked with laughter, their frantic mother chasing them along the sun-drenched boardwalk. The scent of fresh bread hung heavy in the air, a tantalizing reminder of a life she craved. Yet, she knew this was just another stop on their endless journey.

It had been seven years since they'd fled Charleston, their lives draped in mourning after her father and brother fell in the war. The remnants of their once-comfortable life were long gone, sold to finance their escape from the South's ravaged landscape.

Charleston had been a dream Bethany clung to, a memory of bustling streets and laughter-filled evenings. Now, it was a distant ache in her heart. Her mother harbored a different dream, a relentless pursuit of a wealthy suitor for her daughter, a man who could bankroll their former life.

Dallas had offered that possibility, in the form of Mr. Oliver Buchanan, a portly banker with a fondness for whiskey and a heavy hand. Bethany had seen through his facade, the lecherous glint in his eyes, the way his gaze lingered too long. The bruises on her arm and the sting on her cheek were stark reminders of the night she'd convinced her mother to leave.

"Samantha!" Desiree's voice cracked with a touch of hysteria. "Leave those horses alone!"

Samantha, offered a final pat to the russet-colored horse's nose before reluctantly rejoining her mother. Bethany wrapped a comforting arm around her younger sister, planting a kiss on her cheek. Samantha's love for animals was a constant source of sadness. Their transient lifestyle made it impossible to keep any pets, a truth that often brought tears to Samantha's eyes.

Desiree approached the general store, her gaze flickering to the group of men engrossed in conversation. Her ears perked up as a list of supplies – lumber, tools, a wagonload of equipment – filled the air. The West, with its wealthy ranchers, was exactly what she'd been searching for.

"Excuse me, ma'am," the storekeeper apologized, his voice harried. "I'll be with you shortly."

Desiree smiled politely. "No rush, take your time." Her gaze drifted back to the men, curiosity gnawing at her.

"He'll be more than a few minutes." A gruff voice cut in.

Desiree turned, her smile faltering slightly at the sight of a short, bald man with a bushy mustache. "Pardon me?"

"Walt Morgan, at your service, ma'am," he offered his hand eagerly. "I own the newspaper in town."

Desiree took his hand, a glint entering her eyes. "Desiree Mills." This chance encounter could be useful.

"You'll be waiting a while then." Walt shook his head, his gaze shifting to the men restocking their supplies. "Those folks come in from the Flying Arrow Ranch every month, practically take over the store with their orders."

"Flying Arrow Ranch?" Desiree's voice sharpened with interest.

"Cattle and horse operation, just north of here." Walt pointed towards the tall figure in a black hat and white shirt. "That fella there owns the place."

Desiree followed his finger, her smile faltering slightly as she scrutinized the man. "Him?" She questioned, a sliver of doubt creeping in.

"Buck Cross," Walt confirmed, his voice laced with disapproval. "Half the town wouldn't do business with the halfbreed, but he's got more money than God himself."

Desiree's eyes narrowed. "Surely there are other ranchers around?"

"He's the only one close enough to do business here."

Suddenly, the air shattered by the sharp crack of gunfire. Three men on horseback tore down the dusty street, shooting wildly into the air. Desiree shrieked, scrambling for cover behind a large barrel. Panic surged through her as she searched for her daughters. There! Bethany, huddled in the doorway of the dressmaker's shop across the street.

But a wave of horror washed over her as she spotted Samantha. Her youngest daughter lay sprawled on the ground near the horses, a chilling reminder of her warning just moments prior. The large chestnut mare, startled by the gunfire, reared high on its hind legs, its massive hooves aimed at Samantha's crumpled form.

Time seemed to slow down for Desiree. The world narrowed to Samantha, the panicked whinny of the horse, and the horrifying image of her daughter being trampled. A primal scream tore from her throat, a sound raw with terror and desperation.