Prologue
Chicago & Northern Railroad
Late September 1872
“Tessa, do you think anyone saw us get on?” the small tow-headed boy asked as he scooted closer to the young woman’s side.
Tessa Roarke peered out her dirty train window into the darkness before turning back to look at nine-year-old Coalie. “I don’t think so, but we’ll have to be very careful.” She patted her lap, motioning for Coalie to stretch out on the hard bench and place his head there. “I think we’re safe.” She wasn’t at all sure, but she kept her doubts to herself.
Coalie made himself as comfortable as possible, stretching out full length on the bench, using Tessa’s lap as a pillow. His boots scraped against the hard wood, adding to the noise surrounding them—the loud clacking of the train as it swayed along the tracks, the belching sound of the smoke from the stack, the periodic whistles, and the snores of the male passengers. Tessa looked down at Coalie’s blond hair.
His breathing deepened. She thought he must have fallen asleep, then the sound of his whisper startled her. “Maybe we should go to one of those lawyers.” Coalie opened his big green eyes and looked up at her.
“Oh, no,” Tessa protested immediately. “No lawyers. I can’t abide lawyers. They’ve no loyalty. They make promises they can’t keep and charge people for it. No, Coalie. It’s important that we stay away from the likes of them. This has to be our secret. We can’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t tell, Tessa.” Coalie sat up and hugged her. “I promise. And I won’t go to any lawyers neither.”
Tessa kissed his forehead and smoothed back the hair falling across his brow. “I know you won’t.”
Coalie settled back down, lying across Tessa’s lap once again. Tessa sighed, closed her eyes, and tried to rest. Her past was behind her. Her future, and Coalie’s, was in the far-off territory of Wyoming. Surely they’d be safe in Wyoming. After living in Chicago and surviving the great fire, how much danger could there be in a town called Peaceable?
* * *
At the back of the railroad car a big blond man watched the woman lean over the child. He’d followed them from her apartment and through the dark and dangerous streets of Chicago to the train station. He hadn’t expected her to be traveling with a young boy. He hadn’t expected her to leave Chicago at all. Tessa Roarke was heading for Peaceable, Wyoming, and there was no way for him to stop her.
* * *
Miles down the track, in the tiny town of Peaceable, attorney David Alexander slept soundly, a battered-looking orange tomcat curled up beside him, both of them blissfully unaware that their lives were about to be turned upside down.
Chapter One
Peaceable, Wyoming Territory’
November 1872
“Help!”
David Alexander sat bolt upright in bed, instantly awake. He thought he’d heard cries for help in his sleep.
But when he sat silently for a moment, he heard nothing more.
“Was that one of your friends, Greeley?” he asked the battle-scarred cat curled up next to him. “I could’ve sworn I heard someone.” The orange tabby arched his back, yawned, then settled back down in the warmth of the bed.
Though the cat seemed undisturbed David listened intently. It must have been a dream. He didn’t hear anything except the tinny sound of an out-of-tune piano from the saloon four doors away. Horace Greeley yawned again. David felt like doing the same. He slipped down under the sheets, pulled the quilts up over his ears, rolled over, and went back to sleep.
The pounding on the
back door roused him the second time. “What does a man have to do to get a good night’s sleep around here?” he muttered, flipping back the covers. David grabbed his pants and stumbled out of bed. He hopped from one foot to the other as he pulled on his trousers, then stepped into his boots. He stamped his feet, forcing the cold leather over his woolen socks. Pausing a moment, David took time to scratch the soft fur on Greeley’s head. “Another fight, no doubt,” David muttered to the cat. “In one of the saloons.”
The pounding persisted, louder this time. “All right, all right, I’m coming,” David yelled.
Raking his fingers through his hair, he stuck his arms into a shirt before he yanked the front door open.
A skinny boy of perhaps eight or nine stood bundled up against the cold in an assortment of dirty rags. “You gotta come quick, Mr. Alexander!”
“Why? Who are you?” David asked, surprised to see a child at this time of night. Usually his midnight visitors were disreputable characters.
“I’m Coalie.” The boy stepped forward and tugged on the tail of David’s shirt, gesturing toward the commotion down the street. A group of townspeople, bundled up in quilts and heavy winter coats, stood outside the largest saloon in town.
“You gotta come. They’re takin’ her away.” Coalie tugged again, harder.
“Who?”
‘Tessa.”
David took a step back. He didn’t know anyone named Tessa.
Coalie shook his head, gripping David’s shirt with surprising force. “Hurry!”
“Just let me get my coat.” David reached back through the open door and grabbed his sheepskin jacket from the peg. “Who’s…” He turned. Coalie was running down the street toward the saloon. “Who’s Tessa?” David shrugged into his jacket. He slammed the door of the office behind him. There was only one way to find out. He sprinted after the little boy.
“What’s going on?” David asked, pushing his way toward the front of the crowd a few minutes later. He could see Coalie edging closer and closer to the entrance of the Satin Slipper.