Copyright © 2021 by Rachael Huszar
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published by Rachael Huszar
www.rachaelhuszar.com
First published in 2021
Cover Art and Design by Laura Boyle
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN: 978-1-7371259-0-7
FOR MOM AND DAD
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHER
PROLOGUE
July, 1862. Southern New Mexico Territory
THE SHARP CRACK OF AN ash-encrusted log dissolving into the bowels of the fire pit brought Bill Andrews out of his stupor. He had never liked night watches. There was something beautiful about the seemingly endless expanse of sky above him, but also something strange. As the night grew, so did the quiet. Surely a time when all good souls should be asleep and unaware of these long, dark hours.
Bill sat up, feeling the lower half of his back pop, and rubbed the drowsiness out of his eyes. Weird feelings or no, he had a job to do out here. He pulled another hunk of wood onto the shrinking fire and nudged it with the toe of his boot. As more smoke billowed up, Bill stared out into the plains around him. The dry grasses and air were still, amplifying the quiet of the night. “And not a star to be seen.”
A noise off to the left caught Bill’s attention, and he froze for a moment before recognizing the footfalls of his partner, Frank Byas. Frank entered the circle of firelight, and sat down across from Bill, taking off his hat to fan away some of the smoke and sparks.
“See anything out there?” Bill asked.
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” said Frank. He was a younger man than Bill, and had a bit more energy at this late hour. “Walked the whole perimeter of the Heeley lands, nothing but cattle. All well here?”
“Yep.”
Frank followed Bill’s gaze across the plains for a moment, letting the silence sink in. “What would you bet on? Wolves or coyotes?”
Bill, who had been falling under the hypnosis of the too quiet night once again, looked to his partner. “What?”
“You know. The reason we’re out here. What d’you reckon is attacking the livestock? Wolves or coyotes?”
“Is there much difference between the two?”
“Well, sure,” Frank said, starting to get excited. “Wolves are bigger. And they can go solo. Coyotes work in a pack.”
“I suppose I hadn’t considered. I heard from Wyatt Heeley himself about his bull two weeks ago. ‘Shredded,’ he said. Not sure even a wolf could do damage like that to a steer. But a whole pack of coyotes? That’s different.”
Frank’s sly grin widened. “Would you bet on it?”
Bill leaned forward, grinning back. “You trying to hustle me, Frank Byas?”
“Never, Bill. I just think it’s interesting. Everyone I’ve asked so far has been of the same mind as you. And I think I might know more about wolves than everyone in Three Willows put together.”
“Then do enlighten me, oh Wolf Expert,” Bill said. “How could a wolf do it?”
“Well—”
A cry echoed out across the plains. The wrenching, choking screech of a steer in distress.
Frank and Bill were on their feet in seconds.
“Came from the east. Get your gun, Frank!”
“Right behind you.”
The two men ran towards the fence line, rifles in hand. The once quiet cattle were now on the move, clustering near the fence. Bill and Frank reached the hem of the herd without delay and scanned along the backs of the beasts, looking for any sign of what had birthed that awful cry.
Bill was the first to see it. “There! At the back. Steer’s down.”
The animal was flat on its side, the steam of hot and heavy breaths blasting from its nostrils. They hadn’t brought a light, but even on this moonless night, Bill could see the whites of its eyes glowing in fear.
The men approached the steer cautiously, avoiding its legs and horns. The tangy scent of blood washed over them both.
“Oh my God,” Frank whispered.
Long, wide slits ran along the steer’s side, belly, and haunches. Blood flowed freely across its hide. The rising heat and smell of the flesh made Bill’s stomach turn as he leaned closer.
“Look around,” he said. “Anything out there? Anything running away?”
Frank broke his gaze from the pitiful creature and hoisted himself up onto the fence for a better view. “Not that I can see.”
Solemnly, Bill pulled his hunting knife from its sheath, and with one steady cut, put the animal out of its misery.
Frank looked back at the sight over his shoulder. “Any wolf that would tear open a steer like that must have been rabid beyond salvation.” There was a quaver to his voice.
With the steer now lifeless, Bill moved closer to inspect its injuries. “Look at these marks. Single slashes. This weren’t no wolf unless it was ten feet tall and carrying a knife.”
“That’s crazy. We would have—” Frank halted his speech and spit on the ground, rubbing at his mouth with his sleeve. “Ugh, dirt.” He looked out across the plains again. “Jesus, where the heck’d this wind come from?”
The poorly butchered beast had been his focus, so he hadn’t noticed either, but as Bill stood to his full height, he felt the warm wind buffet his body, spraying his eyes with dust and small debris. It seemed to be picking up speed faster than he could think. “A storm?” he called out to Frank.
Frank pointed out across the landscape once again. “Rain’s coming in fast! We better get to the old barn, or we’ll be caught in it!”
Without further discussion, the two men vaulted the fence line and made a mad dash for the only structure within miles on the ranch lands, the old barn. At least it had a solid roof. Together, the men heaved open the heavy door and ducked inside as the rain began to pummel their backs.
Inside, Frank leaned against the wall, panting hard. “How did we go from the quietest night I’ve ever seen to a disaster in less than five minutes?”
Bill didn’t answer. He was just as astounded as his partner. How on earth were they going to tell the tale of this night?
As he heaved the old barn door closed, Bill took one more look at the moonless sky. Waves of wind and rain pelted the sides of the old barn, causing the structure to creak, joining the discord. Perhaps it was the exhaustion, or the adrenaline and blood pumping through his own ears, but Bill could swear there was another sound in the mix: the beating of wings.
1
GREEN. AT LAST.
There had been a point, maybe fifty miles back, when Samuel Brooks was ready to give up on his search for Three Willows. There had been desert as far as the eye could see. The scenery hadn’t changed for days. He was starting to think he had been duped, and
there was no civilization out here at all. But, finally. There was green.
As the dirt gradually gave way to taller and taller grasses, Sam looked out and began to see trees and what even looked like some buildings in the distance. “Well, whaddya know.” He nudged the sides of his horse, and rode on.
People. Real, actual people. Walking down streets, selling their wares from stores, going to and fro their homes. Sam felt like he had to keep blinking to be sure it was all real. What was a town like this doing out in the middle of nowhere? Sure, it was what everyone had told him. ‘Three Willows? Just keep riding south.’ ‘Oh, that place? Never been, but surely it’s out there somewhere.’ They’d spoken about it like it was a place of myth. And maybe it was. A paradise God had plucked up and planted here for weary travelers. Sam was never one to question good things.
A man in a checkered shirt drove an empty cart down the main thoroughfare. There was a lazy half smile on his face, as if he was lost in his own thoughts.
“S’cuse me, sir.”
The man looked up, and then over his shoulder, as if to check that he was actually being spoken to. “Huh? Yeah?”
“Where might someone find a drink in this town?”
“Uh…” The man seemed taken aback at what Sam considered a simple question. He stared hard at Sam’s face, glancing up and down a few times, before he seemed to remember he’d been asked a question. He pointed down the road. “Down the street a ways, there’s a bar in the hotel, if that’s what you’re thinking. Red doors, you can’t miss it.”
Sam tipped his hat to the man. “Thank you kindly.”
The man nodded and resumed driving, looking over his shoulder to stare at Sam at least three more times.
“Whoa, Sinbad.” Sam looked at the building before him as he dismounted. The red doors weren’t the only thing that stood out about this place. There were two floors, walls clad in boards painted a bright, yellow-white, with red to accent the windows and railings as well. Near the roof, a large sign read “Piper Hotel” in script that was too fancy for its own good.
Hitching Sinbad to the post outside, Sam entered.
The interior of the place was mercifully less vibrant. A long bar counter hugged one wall and wrapped around the corner, with a mirrored wall behind it, reflecting an empty room full of dark wood round tables with their chairs stacked on top of them. It was early afternoon, after all.
“Be right with you!” A female voice called out from another room.
Sam leaned his elbow against the bar counter. “Take your time!” he called back, his eyes scanning the array of bottles.
From a doorway near the back of the room, the source of the voice entered.
She was a short woman with golden curls piled high on her head, and lipstick as red as the hotel doors. She had squeezed herself into a blouse that might have fit her better in her younger years, but now seemed to pucker in all the wrong places. Although the way her chest nearly overflowed from the neckline might cause some men pleasure. A bar rag was hung over her shoulder, but she quickly pulled it off as she took a look at Sam’s face. Her red lips curled into a smile.
“Allow me to rephrase,” she said in a voice oozing sweetness like sap. “I’ll be with you right now. What can I get for you?”
Sam took a seat at the counter. “Something stiff.”
“Whiskey it is.” The woman reached down and pulled out two glasses and a dark brown bottle.
“Much obliged.” Sam graciously took the offered glass and slugged down the stinging drink.
The woman downed her glass as well, then leaned back, bracing her hands on the bar counter. “It’s not often I get an unfamiliar face in here. Especially one of your type.”
“And what type is that?” Sam said, amused.
“Tall. Dark. Handsome.”
Sam narrowed his eyes. He didn’t consider himself unattractive, but after weeks of traveling the desert on horseback, he knew his skin nearly matched his fawn-colored hair. Not typically features of one described as dark. And he wasn’t particularly tall. “You flatter me.”
“It’s one of my skills,” the lady said. “So, where’re you from, stranger? And where’re you headed?”
Sam spun his glass in his hand. “I’m from further north, up near, uh, Independence County.”
“Woof, you have come a long way.”
“And headed to nowhere. Three Willows was always journey’s end for me.”
The woman cocked her head, a tone of suspicion creeping into her voice. “That so?”
It was true, but it wasn’t the whole truth. There was no reason to hand out that story. He smiled at the woman. “Yes, ma’am. Though truth be told, y’all are a little hard to find. Couldn’t get clear directions from anyone. I was starting to wonder if this place even existed.”
The woman gave Sam another look up and down. Between her gaze and the scrutiny he’d received from the man in the street, Sam felt like some sort of undiscovered specimen. “We exist all right. But, well . . . unless you’ve got a family keeping your horse company outside while you chatter with me, I’m not sure this town will suit you.”
“Oh?”
“People find their way to Three Willows to settle down and put their feet up. Lay roots, all that. I have a keen eye, mister. I’m excellent at reading people, and you do not seem the settling sort.”
How mighty forward, Sam thought, taking his time to answer. In his experience, those who proudly claimed they were good with people, usually weren’t. She certainly wasn’t hiding her hand. “Well,” he said at last. “Maybe you need to get your eyes checked.”
A moment hung between them, then the woman burst into laughter, sending ripples through the exposed skin on her chest, and offered her hand. “Mamie Piper.”
Sam took it. “Samuel Brooks. Pleasure to meet you, Missus Piper.”
“Oh, ‘Mamie’, please. Missus Piper was my mother, and the longer I can put off becoming her, the better.”
“Mamie it is, then.”
Mamie poured out two more glasses of whiskey and raised one up in a toast. “To new neighbors.”
Sam clinked his glass to hers. “Cheers.” He took another refreshing swig.
“Now, then,” Mamie pressed on, after polishing off her drink. “Where’re you looking to stay in town? Know anyone ‘round here?”
Again, Sam took a moment before answering. He certainly had Mamie’s full attention. What he didn’t have was very much money. It had been such a relief to get here at all, for the past few days he’d hardly thought of anything else. It had been a desperate trek, riding mostly by night and sheltering in the day to avoid the heat. Seeing the miles and miles of landscape stretching out, not even sure if he was heading in the right direction. Nothing to consume his thoughts except worry about what lay ahead of him and fear of what lay behind. Now that he was here, and the elation of making it was settling some, he’d have to work out a plan. And that plan might involve the buxom Mamie Piper, if he could swing it right.
“Counting you,” he said, “I know a grand total of one person in this town. I’m a bit embarrassed to admit, but arriving in Three Willows was always step one of the plan, and I haven’t come up with a step two.”
Mamie pursed her lips into a pout. “Well, that won’t do at all! Tell you what. Seeing as you’ve come so far, why don’t I put you up in a room here at the hotel tonight?”
Sam hung his head. “I’m afraid I couldn’t afford such a nice place as yours, Mamie.”
“On the house. I insist. And let me stop you before you say you won’t take charity. Just you being here has already given me a week’s worth of excitement, and I could not ask for more.”
Sam put on his most grateful smile. “That’s mighty kind of you.”
“Then it’s settled. You’ll stay here for the night, and I’ll have a word with our mayor, see if we can’t come up with an arrangement for you.”
Sam felt a twinge in his mi
nd at the word ‘mayor’. That was the last thing he wanted. “That seems a bit much? I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way for my sake—”
Mamie flapped a hand at him. “Shush. Nonsense. Mayor Carson and I have a first-rate working relationship, I’m sure we can come up with something for you. This is Three Willows, Samuel Brooks. Hospitality is the name of the game. We’ll be glad to have you.” Mamie exited from behind the bar counter and made her way towards the stairs near the entrance. “Let me go turn down a room upstairs for you.”
Sam listened to the sound of her heels clipping up the stairs and down the hall above him before letting out a long breath and slumping on his stool. “You made it. You have a bed for the night. Gotta take what you can get, Joker.”
2
JESSALYN JOY WAITED PATIENTLY FOR her students to settle down before looking at the next word on her list. They were down to the final two competitors.
Jessalyn stepped forward, the creak of the schoolhouse’s floorboards cutting through the tension of the students, as they watched her with excited eyes. “Lilah Templeton,” she said, “please spell ‘acquaintance’.”
Lilah sprung up from her seat at the bench. “Acquaintance. A-C-Q-U-A-I-N-T-A-N-C-E. Acquaintance.”
“That is correct,” said Jessalyn. The students clapped. Jessalyn turned to the second finalist, Noah, a sour look on his face in the wake of Lilah’s success. “Noah Heeley, please spell ‘recommendation’.”
Noah rose from his bench, still glaring at Lilah across the room, and began to spell. “Recommendation. R-E-C-O-M-M-E-N-D-A-. . .” He paused. “. . . S-H-U-N. Recommendation.”
Jessalyn let out a tiny sigh, but didn’t let the disappointment show. “That is incorrect.” The room broke out into excited shrieks from the girls rooting for Lilah, and groans from the boys rooting for Noah. “Lilah, if you spell it correctly, you will be today’s winner. ‘Recommendation’.”
Then Came the Thunder Page 1
