Forgotten Trails (Paradise Valley Book 5)

by Vivi Holt

  Praise for Vivi Holt

  The writing was superb staying true to all of Vivi Holt’s writings. Vivi Holt never disappoints in her writing and the amazing books that she has published. She has a gift for writing intriguing and entertaining stories.

  Amazon reviewer

  My first time reading Vivi Holt, I believe she will be one of my favorite authors.

  Amazon reviewer

  Wonderful! Vivi Holt pulls at your heart strings and then some

  Kit Morgan, Bestselling author

  Forgotten Trails

  Paradise Valley

  Vivi Holt

  Black Lab Press

  Contents

  FREE Book

  About Forgotten Trails

  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

  Excerpt: Lost in Laredo

  Also by Vivi Holt

  About the Author

  FREE Book

  Sign up for Vivi Holt’s New Release Newsletter, and you’ll get a free book! The Lift, a short love story:

  What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator with a Hollywood heart-throb? For hours…

  You think you know what you’d do. You think you'd be all cool, suave and sophisticated. Well, I wasn't. I was running late, flustered, sweaty and awkward. And he was aloof, sexy and not interested in anything I had to say.

  We didn't come from the same world. We shouldn't even have met. But we did. And everything changed.

  Get my FREE book!

  About Forgotten Trails

  Angela Wilcox has lost her memory. Pregnant and alone, she has no idea who she is, where she’s from or how she found her way to Montana Territory.

  Hank Oster is the new Deputy Sheriff in Bozeman. And he’s on the trail of a gang of cattle rustlers. When he discovers a beautiful, young woman alone in an abandoned cabin in the middle of nowhere, his first instinct is to help find her family. But he soon discovers she has no idea who they are or where they might be. And it seems she doesn’t want to know.

  In this final installment in the Paradise Valley series of clean, historical, western romances, new characters will find a home at Paradise Ranch, and old, beloved characters will have their whole world shaken to the core, as they bid the ranch a final farewell.

  1

  August 1871

  Deputy Hank Oster urged his horse Auger forward with a click of his tongue. The stallion was eager to gallop and didn’t need more inducement. Soon the ground was a blur beneath their feet and Ost grinned. He loved being out on the open road.

  He wondered what was happening back at Paradise Ranch. Likely they were hurrying to finish the summer’s work before fall came. Branding, fencing – there was so much to get done, and he knew it’d be all hands on deck. Tom O’Reilly, the owner of the ranch, always hired a new crew in the spring to help with the roundup and had them stay through the summer. Now that Ost and Vaquero weren’t part of the crew any longer, Tom might ask a couple of the greenhorns to stay on through the winter as well.

  He grimaced. It had been his decision to leave, but sometimes he wished he hadn’t. Still, he’d enjoyed the last couple of weeks living in Bozeman and learning from Sheriff Stanton. He still had a lot to learn before he’d be ready – so the sheriff had told him that morning – but he was a quick study, and a crack shot after many years of practice. So he knew it wouldn’t be long until he felt like a real lawman.

  The sheriff had also warned him against going out on his own and trying to take on outlaws and criminals. But today was his day off and he intended to help Tom out by tracking the rustlers that had been stealing cattle from Paradise Ranch for months now. He’d promised Tom before he left that he’d make sure the outlaws were caught and would pay for their crimes. But Stanton didn’t seem to have the same urgency. He’d suggested they put together a posse, but the sheriff had just nodded his head, said he’d think it through and let him know.

  Ost didn’t feel like waiting.

  The trail he followed was a faint wagon track, dipping and curving over bends and through hollows. Mountain peaks soared on one side, craggy and snow-tipped, and he flew past juniper and hemlock groves as he rode. Suddenly he came upon a lake, still and blue as ice, mirroring the sky overhead clearer than a looking glass. Clouds floated lazily above.

  His thoughts returned to Paradise Ranch, the place he still considered his home. Every day he thought about what they might be doing or saying, and wondered again if he’d made the right choice. He’d always thought he’d be a cowpuncher the rest of his days, but this new opportunity was something he couldn’t seem to shake off.

  And he really loved the idea of being a sheriff. Granted, he was only a part-time deputy in Bozeman, a town of barely two hundred in Montana Territory. But he knew the town was growing, and one day they’d need a full-time lawman. Stanton was getting old, and he knew the sheriff had asked him to be a deputy in hopes of one day passing the reins to him. Whether he wanted those reins or not was something he hadn’t yet decided.

  He rode south for hours through Paradise Valley, stopping only for lunch beside a creek, letting Auger drink and crop grass for an hour while he ate a sandwich. The afternoon saw him trot over grassy plains and through thick woods. Finally, with the setting sun casting an orange glow over the landscape, he pulled Auger to a halt and scanned his surroundings for a good place to make camp.

  He wasn’t far from the Yellowstone River, and had crossed numerous creeks and tributaries through the day. One bubbled over smooth stones nearby as it swept downstream. He gave Auger his head, and the horse let it droop as he walked toward the stream. The horse must be thirsty. The animal soon sated his thirst, and Ost drank as well, kneeling beside him on the shore.

  He straightened and lifted his hands above his head with a yawn. His body ached from the all-day ride. He took Auger’s reins and led him along the creek bank, knowing he’d have to return to Bozeman first thing in the morning. He had to show up at the brewery in the afternoon, where he’d taken a job as a bartender. He was still working out how to manage his time between the sheriff’s office, the brewery and searching for the rustlers.

  He spied a cabin up ahead, squatting on the creek bank and looking as though it had suffered through several floods. Whoever built it hadn’t thought through how high the creek’s water levels might rise after the spring thaw or during summer rains. He frowned and walked toward it. There’d be no flood tonight, and if it wasn’t too badly damaged it might be a good place for him to sleep.

  The cabin had a chimney that looked to be in working order, at least from the outside. But the front door was rotten and sagged on leather hinges. He pulled on the handle and it scraped across the worn porch. He peered inside. “Hello?”

  There was no response. Inside, the cabin smelled damp and musty. Cobwebs wove from walls to ceiling, and something small scurried across the floor and into the next room. He stepped inside. “Anyone here?” Nope, still silent.

  Ost took a closer look at the hearth. It was clear a fire hadn’t been lit there in a long time, but he couldn’t see any reason he shouldn’t. The rest of the room was covered in dust and some mold, but otherwise looked habitable. It was cozy enough and would provide him some shelter. He picketed Auger in a field behind the cabin after the horse had drunk his fill, then carried his belongings into the cabin, set them on
the floor in the main room, and returned outside to hunt for kindling.

  Before long he had everything he needed. Some of the firewood was damp, but not so much that it wouldn’t burn. It’d send up some smoke, though, and he wasn’t too happy about that, given the purpose of his trip. Still, he didn’t believe the rustlers were close by. He’d been searching for a sign all day, anything to tell him they’d been by that way recently, and hadn’t found one.

  The fire started slowly in the hearth, then took hold and burned brightly. He added more wood until he was satisfied, then laid out his bedroll on the floor. The sun had set and thrown the cabin into darkness save for the firelight. He stared into the flames, his mind wandering.

  There was a rustle in the adjoining room. His brow furrowed – rats? He thought he’d seen one when he first entered the cabin. Likely there was a whole nest of them in the next room. He should go and check, since he had no desire to share his bedroll with a curious rodent. He stood with a groan and shuffled into the other room, his muscles stiff after the hard day’s ride. He really should have supper and something to drink – he’d do that as soon as he sorted out the rat problem.

  He stared into the blackness, but his eyes couldn’t make out anything in the adjoining room after being fixed on the fire. He sighed and returned to the hearth, thrust a stick into the fire and waited for it to light, then carried it back. The flame flickered and almost expired, but he shielded it with one hand, and it persisted long enough to push back the darkness and give him a glimpse … his eyes flew wide and he cursed beneath his breath – what in Heaven’s name? He stumbled back and stared some more.

  There was a woman in there, sitting against one wall, her arms wrapped around her knees and her head tucked behind them. He couldn’t see her face, but when she moved he gasped. She was alive. “Hello?” he said.

  Slowly her head lifted and she caught his gaze, her eyes filled with fear.

  “It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you. You just startled me is all. I didn’t know anyone was back here. I’m sorry … is this your cabin?” He stepped closer, but the flame on his stick flickered and died, throwing them both into darkness. He hurried back to the hearth and lit it again. This time it caught more quickly and flamed brighter.

  When he turned again, she was standing in the doorway to the larger room, her hands linked beneath a swollen stomach. He swallowed and nodded, forcing a smile. “I’m Ost … Hank Oster.”

  She stared at him with wide eyes. “Hello.”

  He could see her hands trembling and realized he must have scared the life out of her, showing up that way and building himself a fire. He set the stick down in the hearth and moved slowly toward her. “Is this your cabin?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  He frowned. “Are you here alone?”

  She scanned the room, her breathing intensifying. “I don’t know.”

  He frowned. “What’s your name?”

  She twisted her hands together, stared at them, then caught his gaze again. “I don’t know.”

  Ost rested his elbows on his knees and poked the fire with the same stick he’d used as a torch an hour earlier. The woman sat on his bedroll, her legs tucked beneath her. There was mud along one side of her face and a large purple knot on her forehead. She was expecting. And she didn’t seem to know the first thing about herself. He’d asked her name several more times, and she’d given him a blank look and shook her head. Either she was an accomplished liar, or she’d lost her memory. Given the size of the lump on her forehead, he guessed the latter.

  But it still didn’t explain what she was doing all alone in an abandoned cabin in the middle of nowhere. She was an attractive young woman, wearing well-made if soiled clothing. Someone must be looking for her. “Do you remember how you got here?”

  She shook her head again.

  He frowned. She couldn’t have walked far given her condition. “Well, we can’t go looking for your family tonight. We’ll have to try in the morning. So you can have my bedroll. I’ll take the spare blanket.”

  She smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Ost.”

  His cheeks warmed as he spread the blanket on the floor and lay on his back, his hands linked behind his head. He could see her settling into the bedroll out of the corner of his eye. Her family couldn’t be far. The cabin was only a few miles from the Montana Trail – perhaps they’d been traveling it when something happened to separate them. She’d fallen and hit her head, or someone had hit her, and disoriented, she’d wandered along until she found the cabin. There was no evidence anyone else had been there recently, no horse tracks in the dirt outside.

  His eyes wouldn’t drift shut. He felt as though his insides had been wound up like a clock – he couldn’t relax, let alone get to sleep. He didn’t know anything about the woman lying so close to him, and there was something about her that made him want to know everything. She looked about his age, maybe a few years younger. Her long blond hair was caught up in a bun at the nape of her neck, but long strands had come loose and hung around her pretty face. When her large blue eyes found his, he’d thought he might never catch his breath again.

  And yet she was obviously married to someone else – someone who was probably out there looking for her that very moment, anxious and afraid for her well-being.

  He rubbed his eyes and sighed deeply. If only she could tell him anything that might make finding her loved ones easier. The nearest settlement was miles away, so it wasn’t likely she was from the area. He’d take a look around in the morning, but if he didn’t find anyone he’d have to bring her back to Bozeman with him. The sheriff would know of any reports of a missing woman while he was gone.

  He leaned up on one elbow and studied her where she lay on her side. She was asleep, or appeared to be. Her lips were parted slightly and she breathed deeply and slowly, one hand resting on her belly. He lay back down and shut his eyes. He’d best try to get some sleep – he had a big day ahead of him tomorrow.

  Ost drifted off and dreamed of riding Auger behind a herd of longhorns. He laughed when Vaquero challenged him to a riata-tossing competition, and his rope sailed through the air to pull tight around a yearling’s horns. He smiled in his sleep and let his dreams carry him away.

  A scraping sound awakened Ost and he sat up with a start, his mind scrambling to find his bearings. His heart raced and he took a deep breath. Right – the cabin. He scanned the room and saw his bedroll lying empty on the floor. The front door was open – that must’ve been the sound that woke him.

  He jumped to his feet, and the stiffness of passing an entire night with nothing between his long body and the cold floorboards but a thin blanket made him wince. He shuffled forward, already rocking his head from side to side to stretch the kinks from his neck. “Um … hello?” Not knowing the woman’s name made things even more awkward between them than they should’ve been.

  Outside, he saw her standing beside Auger, stroking the stallion’s neck, one hand resting protectively on her enlarged stomach. He wandered over to her and smiled. “Did you sleep well?”

  She returned his smile. “Not really. The floor’s a bit hard.”

  He chuckled. “I know what you mean.” He rubbed the small of his back.

  She petted Auger’s neck again, smiling as her hand glided over his smooth black coat.

  “So I guess we should eat some breakfast, then look for your family.”

  A flash of fear crossed her face. “Oh.”

  He frowned. “That’s not what you want?” Why wouldn’t she want to look for her loved ones?

  She bit her lower lip.

  He decided not to push. “Fine. We don’t have to search for them if you’d rather not. But then I’d have to take you back to Bozeman with me. The sheriff, my boss, will know if anyone’s reported you missing.”

  The woman looked away, shivered and stared at a large spruce that towered over the rest of the trees at the edge of the field. He could tell she was wrac
king her mind for some hint, some memory.

  Hank patted Auger’s flank and glanced her way. A duck flew low overhead, and its call made her jump. She glanced up, saw the bird pass by and exhaled slowly with relief. Why was she so jittery? What was she afraid of? He didn’t know, but he sensed she didn’t want anyone to look for her. Why? She was like a little bird that had fallen from its nest – every small sound seemed to frighten her. “What should I call you? I can’t just keep saying ‘hello’ whenever I want to get your attention.” He laughed awkwardly.

  “I don’t know … I’ve always liked the name Rose.”

  He nodded. “Rose is a pretty name. I can call you that.”

  She didn’t say anything but walked back toward the cabin.

  Ost followed. “We only have one horse, as I’m sure you’ve realized. Can you ride?” He didn’t know what women in her condition could and couldn’t do. If she couldn’t ride, they’d be in even deeper trouble. There was no way she could walk as far as Bozeman.

  She stopped and met his gaze. “I can ride.”

  “It won’t … hurt you?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  She wasn’t very convincing, but Ost knew they didn’t have a choice. Maybe she did too. If only she knew more – like who she was or where she’d come from.

  2

  The ride back to Bozeman took three days. Ost had to travel slowly and stop frequently to give Rose breaks. The heat of summer seemed to sap her strength. He hadn’t taken enough supplies to last that long, but he had plenty of bullets and a flint with him, so he hunted for their supper and saved the beef jerky, soda crackers and beans for dinner and breakfast. He knew she needed more sustenance than he was able to provide on the journey, but he did the best he could.