Her search for safety lands her in a totally new kind of danger.
The Heckmasters, Book 1
Certain that an ad for a job in a small New Mexico Territory town is the answer to her prayers, Nebraska schoolteacher Rhia Duke packs her sister into a rickety wagon and heads west.
Except when they reach the near-deserted town, she learns the truth. There is no job, no future, and no welcome in the bleak blue eyes of the handsome sheriff.
The minute Rhia’s runaway team thunders into town, Wystan Heckmaster feels the change in the air. One of three sons of a demon who dared love a human, he keeps watch over a Pit guarded by seven seals, and slays any Hellbound demon that attempts to free the master imprisoned within.
With a gut full of regret and a forgotten town filled with reformed demons, Wystan is certain of one thing: he can’t be the man Rhia needs. But when the truth behind Rhia’s flight from Nebraska comes to light, Wystan must open his soul—and pray there’s enough love between them to overcome the darkness rising from the Pit.
Warning: Contains a take-no-prisoners sheriff, a woman who can’t outrun her supernatural secrets, and a dusty town where hope is as thin as dust in the wind. Author recommends keeping a glass of cool spring water at your elbow while reading.
Wystan
Allison Merritt
Dedication
For everyone fighting demons. Keeping dreaming—keep them running.
Chapter One
An angel with bloody tear tracks on its face was never a good sign for starting over.
Rhia Duke studied the six-foot-tall marble statue, clutching the reins so tightly the joints in her hands ached. Maybe when it had been erected years ago it had been a symbol of hope. Now it looked like a leering monster waiting to pounce on its next victim.
“Rhia, what’s wrong with that angel?”
Her twelve-year-old sister Sylvie peered through the hole in the canvas cover of their wagon. She pushed her spectacles up her nose with one hand, tugging Rhia’s sleeve with the other.
The angel stood in the middle of a dried-up fountain, tilted haphazardly as though it hadn’t straightened itself from a rough landing. Its eyes were dark hollow holes in its face. There was nothing friendly nor peaceful about the statue. It made the hairs on Rhia’s arms stand up straight.
“I think it must have had water leaking from its eyes at one time. The minerals in the water left those marks.”
Sylvie’s mouth puckered, a sure sign she was processing Rhia’s guess and trying to decide if it was the most reasonable answer. “It’s scary. How come you think they let it dry up?”
It looks like the whole town has dried up. There wasn’t much in the way of compliments that a person could give Berner. Sagging porches, wooden front buildings silvered over time, empty, dusty streets, and scarce greenery all made Rhia think coming here hadn’t been such a good idea. But her money was down to a few coins easily hidden inside her shoe. Besides, she wasn’t sure the team of mules pulling their wobbly-wheeled wagon would last much longer. Still, the sound of wind whipping along the street made her wonder if they’d entered a ghost town instead of the thriving city she had expected.
“I don’t know, Sylvie.”
“This town is strange.”
Sylvie wasn’t wrong.
“Are we there?” From the back of the wagon, a weak voice rose above the squeaky wheel.
Sylvie sniffed in disdain. “If this is our new home, I think maybe we ought to turn around and go back to Nebraska.”
Rhia didn’t see the point of telling her sister there was no going back. “We’re here, Beryl. Stay where you are until I find a place to tie the mules.”
She heard the canvas at the back of the wagon rustle as Beryl Brookshier raised it to take in Berner.
“It’s awful quiet.” Beryl’s voice sounded as though it hadn’t been used in a week, dry and croaking as it was.
Rhia swallowed the lump of worry that nested in her throat. “Maybe there’s a town meeting.”
“I don’t like it,” Sylvie whispered. “That angel is looking at us and it’s not saying ‘how do you do.’”
Rhia forced a laugh. “Sure it is, but don’t stare at it if you don’t like it.”
The mules chose that moment to balk. Right in front of the sign that proclaimed they were entering Berner, population 231. Someone had scratched a line through the number and written 57 beneath it. Rhia wondered how one hundred and thirty-seven people had vanished and how long ago it had happened. From the looks of things, a plague might have swept through and wiped out the town.
She’d find out what happened as soon as she got the mules moving again and she saw another living person.
“Go, mules. Gee, haw.”
Because right or left would be better than a dead stall. Their ears flicked back and forth at her commands, but otherwise neither animal moved.
“I don’t think we can just leave ’em in the middle of the road.” Sylvie, too smart for her own good, leaned over the back of the seat. “You better crack the whip over their rumps.”
Rhia sighed. “I know how to drive a team.”
“I know. You did real good all the way here. Hey, look.” Sylvie pointed at one of the buildings.
A man, framed by the doorway, watched them, his eyes narrowed as though he couldn’t figure out why the wagon was sitting there. He was pasty white, plump, and looked like a doughy loaf of bread left to rise on the back of a stove. His pate was hairless, mouth wide and red. Rhia didn’t like the way he glared at them. She lifted a hand to wave, but wasn’t relieved to find the first person they’d seen in town looked as though he’d prefer they turned around and left.
“He looks mean,” Sylvie whispered.
“Rhia, I could hold the reins if you want to walk beside the mules. Maybe they’ll go on if you take Ponce’s bridle.” Beryl sounded as weak as a baby bird.
“Sylvie can do it. Save your strength.”
“I can drive.” Sylvie’s face lit up. Hiking her skirts up over her knees, she clambered into the front, then landed beside Rhia in a tangle of gingham and fraying ribbons.
Guilt nagged at Rhia’s conscience. Sylvie was always trying to help, but she feared her little sister would grow up too fast. “You’re not driving, you’re holding the reins. Don’t drop them and don’t move an inch until I have Ponce’s bridle in my hand, understand?”
“Yes.” Sylvie rolled her eyes. She grabbed the reins, straightened her back, and sat as still as the angel that leered in front of them.
Rhia climbed down from the wagon, wincing as her muscles flexed. She’d been sitting on the bench seat for hours, determined to arrive in Berner before another day passed. Now she wasn’t sure what to expect.
When she reached for the dominant mule’s bridle, there was a loud bang that made her jump. The mules brayed in unison and Ponce jerked against the harness. Hernando followed his teammate. Sylvie yelped in surprise as the wagon rolled forward.
“Rhia!”
The mules, weighing in at around nine hundred pounds each, might as well have been elephants. She tripped over her skirt as she ran after the wagon. Beryl’s thin, pale face peered out of the canvas. Her white-knuckled hand gripped the wagon frame.
Rhia’s worst fear was that the wagon would tip over and the girls would be hurt. The mules carried the conveyance down the street faster than she could keep up. The wagon veered in crazy patterns as the mules fought the harness. Panting hard and clutching a stitch in her side, Rhia thanked the heavens that no one appeared to be on the street.
Until the wagon reached a crossroad and a man stepped off the corner, his hands
raised as the mules galloped straight for him.
“No!” Rhia’s cry was lost in the clatter of hooves and the squeaking of wheels. She covered her eyes with her hands and stopped running, unable to bear the sight of an innocent man being crushed by her errant team.
She’d go to jail for murder, Sylvie would be taken away, and there would be no one to nurse Beryl through her illness. She’d have to live with a man’s blood on her hands for the rest of her life.
One of the mules snorted and stomped its feet against the hard-packed earth. The harness jangled, but the wheels no longer squeaked. Cracking one eye open, Rhia risked looking at the scene.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Sylvie’s voice was loud in the silence.
Heart in her throat, Rhia lifted her skirt and ran down to the crossroad.
“You all right, little lady?” The man ran his hand over Ponce’s nose, but his question was directed at Sylvie.
“I’m okay. Beryl?”
“Shaken, but fine.”
The announcement ended with a bout of wet coughing that set Rhia’s teeth on edge. She rounded the back of the wagon and came face to face with the man who had saved her sister and friend.
“Are you all right, sir?”
His expression seemed to question the rough cough coming from the rear of the wagon. He turned to Rhia. They were dark blue and set in a clean-shaven, tanned face with brows drawn together in concern. Wide shoulders boasted of strength, big hands still held and stroked Ponce’s nose. He was handsome, but more important, he didn’t seem angry about her runaway team.
“Never better. Is the lady inside ill?”
Rhia’s heart hadn’t slowed down from her scare. “She’s had the cough for a couple of weeks now.”
“Has she seen a doctor?” Another gentle pat and he released Ponce’s bridle.
Ashamed, Rhia shook her head. “We’ve been on the trail. I hoped we might find one once we got settled.”
He eyed the wagon, which had been secondhand when Rhia purchased it. “You plan to live in Berner?”
There was a note of skepticism in his voice.
“Yes. There was an ad in the Lancaster County Republican about hiring a teacher. I’m applying for the position.”
His brow rose. “There must be some mistake. There isn’t a school in town.”
Rhia’s stomach flopped to her feet. Her mouth went dry and she reached out to steady herself against the side of the wagon. “I don’t understand.”
“We’ll get this sorted out. I’m Eban Heckmaster. The doctor. If you want to bring Miss…”
Rhia looked up at Sylvie, whose face was as white as limestone. “Beryl Brookshier. This is my sister Sylvie, and I’m Rhia Duke.”
He offered a kind smile. “Pleased to meet you, no matter what the circumstances. If you’d like to bring Miss Brookshier to my office, I can see about helping her while you talk to my brother.”
“What can your brother do?” She didn’t like the idea of leaving Beryl alone in a strange place.
“He’s the town sheriff as well as the mayor.”
“Oh.” The mayor would probably be the man to talk to. “I suppose I’ll have to speak with him. I’m not sure about leaving Ponce and Hernando out here with our belongings.”
They didn’t have much, but Rhia intended to protect what little they had left.
Eban smiled. “Mules named for Spanish explorers. Interesting. You don’t have anything to worry about, Miss Duke. No one will touch your wagon. You have my word.”
Rhia swallowed. Beryl’s coughing worsened and Rhia winced when her friend gasped in pain. “There’s one more thing. We don’t have much money. I thought I might be able to take in some washing to supplement the teaching salary.”
Eban held his hands up. “Don’t worry about it right now. We can settle up later.”
“I don’t know…”
A hoarse noise came from the back of the wagon. She knew Beryl was in pain and possibly close to death, but she hated being in debt to anyone, especially a stranger. “All right. I’ll figure out a way to pay you, Dr. Heckmaster.”
“Rhia.” Beryl’s face appeared through the canvas. “What are you agreeing to?”
She forced a smile. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s focus on getting you well again.”
“Miss Sylvie can stay in my office while I examine Miss Brookshier. Wystan is…awkward around children.”
“Awkward?”
“A fancy way of saying he doesn’t like children.” Beryl eyed the doctor. “Where is everyone?”
Eban cleared his throat. “Berner has dried up a bit since I was a boy. It hasn’t recovered very well.”
Rhia thought he was being generous with his description, and Beryl, sick as she was, hadn’t missed a thing. Something wasn’t quite right here. They’d have to make the best of it. There was so little money, she didn’t think they could make it much farther along the trail.
“If you’ll point me toward your brother’s office?”
Eban nodded. “Cross the street, go two blocks and you can’t miss the jail. Wystan isn’t watching anyone, so he might be in the cafe across the street.”
Rhia looked across the street, not at all surprised the jail was empty. Who was here to cause any mischief? “Thank you for your help, Dr. Heckmaster. Sylvie, you stay with Beryl and I’ll be back shortly.”
She straightened her spine. Sylvie and Beryl needed her to be strong. There was nothing gained by climbing into the back of the wagon and giving in to her instinct to cry. She’d been taking care of her sister so long, she’d forgotten how to do anything except be in charge. Unflappable Rhia would take care of this situation as well.
Chapter Two
Something changed in the air the moment the wagon crossed the town’s border. Too early to be a supply train, and there was no way in hell it was visitors. Berner didn’t host town fairs, theatre troupes, peddlers, or bible thumpers.
Wystan Heckmaster slapped his battered Stetson on his head, collected the keys to the jail, then stepped out the door. The first thing he saw was a pretty woman with hair the color of maple sugar—a rich brownish-blonde. The frown on her face spoke volumes, and the air around her pronounced trouble. She made a straight path for him.
“Mr. Heckmaster. Or should I call you Sheriff? Or Mayor? I need to discuss the ad in the Lancaster County Republican with you. Someone placed an ad, but your brother tells me there is no school here. I’m sure there has to be a mistake. There’s only one Berner in New Mexico Territory. I’m very capable at reading maps. If I wasn’t, I would be ashamed to call myself a teacher.”
He doubted she had taken more than two or three breaths during the speech. If she made talking in rambling paragraphs a habit, no wonder she looked so peaked.
“Teacher?” He glanced along the street, but it was deserted as usual. “Lady, we don’t have a school here. Certainly no need of a teacher.”
Her hands balled into fists that settled on her hips. The dress she wore was patched—the egg yolk yellow faded into something even more disgusting. It had little flowers dotting the material, but they looked as worn as her scuffed black boots.
“Then what was the purpose of placing an ad in the Lancaster County Republican?”
She spoke with the fierceness of a mama bear warning predators away from her cubs. Wystan reached into his shirt pocket and drew out a toothpick.
“I didn’t place any ad in any Lancaster County anything.” He looked past her, expecting Eban to saunter up the street. Eban had to be the brother she’d referred to since Tell was still on the trail.
“Someone did,” she insisted. She fished a crumpled and much-folded piece of newsprint out of the pocket hidden by the folds of her skirt. “See? Right here it says, ‘School teacher wanted for spring term at Berner Schoolhouse. Wages paid based on experience.
Room and board provided. Apply in person at City Hall, Berner, New Mexico Territory.’ I’m sure my eyes don’t deceive me.”
Wystan stared at the clipping, then back at the woman. A galaxy of freckles spattered across her nose and cheekbones, making her look younger than her eyes said she was. Full figured and sure as shittin’ a grown woman. The wariness and worry darkening her hazel eyes gave her away as one with a lot of trouble on her plate.
“I can read.”
She pulled the ad away from his face, folded it, and returned it to her pocket. “Where would you suggest I look for an explanation, Mr. Heckmaster?”
Fussy little thing. “I assure you that no one in this town did. There’s been a mistake. Sorry to inconvenience you, Miss Schoolteacher. Now turn around and head home.”
A flush colored her cheeks. “I can’t head home! I have no home to return to. My little sister and my friend are waiting at the doctor’s office for me to straighten this mess out. The ad says that room and board will be provided. I’d expected to move into a room, sir.”
“You left them with Eban?” That explained his absence.
“Beryl is ill, Sheriff. This is the first town we’ve seen in days and it was past time for her to get some attention.” Despair crept into her voice.
Wystan shifted his weight and transferred the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “Eban’s not exactly trained in human medicine.”
The woman’s mouth opened into an O. She shook her head and seemed to regain her senses. “He’s a veterinarian? He seemed certain he could help Beryl.”
Wystan cleared his throat. “Sure, animal doctor. I’m sorry for your misfortune, lady, but as you can see, Berner’s about run into the ground. There’s nothing here for you or your friend. Might be best to move along.”
She seemed to deflate. “Move along.” Her lips moved, softly forming the words, but it was as though she didn’t comprehend them. “We’ll move along, right down the trail into the next town where there won’t be any teaching jobs either. Sylvie, Beryl, and I will starve to death on the side of the road with no one in the world to care.”
Wystan Page 1
