Yellowstone Dawn (Yellowstone Romance Series Book 4)

by Peggy L Henderson

  Yellowstone Dawn

  Book 4

  Yellowstone Romance Series

  By Peggy L Henderson

  Copyright © 2012 by Peggy Henderson

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author.

  Acknowledgement

  Carol Spradling, my critique partner. You keep me honest in my writing, you never let anything slide, you’re my toughest critic and my biggest supporter. Thank you for your friendship and for putting up with me.

  My beta reader, Arlene Foster, for her reactions and comments. Thank you to my family for their support, and to my boss at work who lets me slide and jot down little notes of dialogue that pop into my head at the most inopportune times.

  Thank you, Ramona Lockwood, for creating the beautiful covers for this series! (http://coversbyramona.blogspot.com)

  Chapter 1

  Montana Territory, March 1877

  Everyone was dead. Danica Jensen gently placed her hand over the old woman’s face, closing the lids over the lifeless eyes that would be forever frozen in time. She had performed this task five times already in the last few minutes, and her hands turned blue and stiff like the bodies that lay all around her, strewn about amongst the sage and rocks. The wind howled cold and fierce through the shallow valley, sending an icy chill straight to Danica’s soul. The wool blanket she had wrapped around her body did little to shield her from the impeding blizzard’s merciless onslaught. The sensations in her heart and mind matched the ferocity of the bitter cold bearing down on her. She knew she had to find shelter. Someone else depended on her for survival.

  The fierce early spring blizzard had descended upon her and the family she’d been traveling with faster than the cutthroats who had swooped out of nowhere and attacked them without mercy. The old woman had thrown a blanket over Danica and forced her to the ground when the first shots had ricocheted around them. Seconds later, the woman’s body had collapsed on top of her, leaving Danica immobile beneath her. The group never stood a chance. No one carried a gun, leaving them completely defenseless against the unprovoked attack.

  Danica’s body shook with rage and cold, her muscles tense with anger. After everything she had endured over the last - how long had it been? - nearly nine months, the cruel and senseless death of these innocent people left her feeling numb all over. All her life, she’d been determined to control her own destiny, but recent events left her questioning and doubting if she’d ever be in control of anything again.

  Growing up in a male household, and without a woman role model, she had nevertheless been expected to act like a lady. After her mother died when she was only ten years old, Danica’s father had largely ignored her, while he doted on her brother.

  When her brother met with an untimely death, she had tried to be both son and daughter to her bitter father, but to no avail. She’d fussed over him as any loving daughter would. Unlike her brother Jacob, she took an interest in her father’s banking business. She soon discovered she was rather good with numbers and business dealings. Her father took no notice, and wouldn’t allow her active participation, so she kept her talent hidden. For all outward appearances, her father acted as any responsible parent would. She had private tutors, the finest and latest fashions to wear, and wanted for nothing, save her father’s love. Danica realized early on that, although she had a parent, she was alone and would have to forge her own way through life.

  Everything about her life had changed that fateful day this past summer. What was supposed to have been a fun-filled weekend adventure of sightseeing through the newly established Yellowstone National Park had turned into a living nightmare. Her friend Maddie had, by choice, suffered a horrific death that day, while Danica swore she’d stay alive at all cost. She never did find out what had happened to the six other members in her party. She hadn’t been able to stop the events of that day any more than she could have stopped what happened today.

  She gently folded the hands of the old woman across her lifeless chest. Danica’s self-appointed guardian had saved her life, just as she’d taken her in and cared for her months ago, after . . . Danica sniffed. She’d been helpless to return the favor in kind. She hated leaving the bodies of these people she’d grown fond of exposed to predators. She had nothing she could use to dig graves. And she needed to get out of this weather if she was to survive. She turned and glanced at the bodies lying on the hard rocky ground one last time, saying a quiet prayer as tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Danica steeled her heart. She gathered up whatever supplies she could carry that lay strewn around; a bundle of firewood, several water bags, another knife to supplement the one she kept strapped to her leg, a pouch with some dried meat, and two additional blankets. She tightened her lips in a firm line, then turned and headed toward the trees in the distance, hoping to find shelter from the ferocious wind. As cold as it was, she feared it would snow again soon.

  Keeping her head tucked low toward her chest, she walked into the wind, adjusting the firewood and blankets over her shoulder. Her back ached with her added burden, but she trudged on with a determination as fierce as the winds howling in her ears. By the time she reached the timberline, the first snow flurries danced around her face. Her breath swirled in ghostly patterns in front of her, even as perspiration beaded her forehead.

  If I don’t stop soon, I won’t be able to stand up straight anymore. She shifted her bundles from her left to her right shoulder to relieve some of the pain in her lower back. She hadn’t been in this much discomfort before. Everything would be all right, she told herself. She just needed some rest. The gray sky above quickly grew darker, and the air around her seemed to get colder, if that was even possible. Danica pulled the one blanket that she wore like a cloak tighter around herself. She no longer felt her fingers and toes.

  A sudden blast of cold wind pulled the blanket from her head, sucking the air from her lungs. Her long hair whipped around her face, obscuring her vision. She had to stop. Each step she took became pure agony. Her stiff back no longer absorbed the shock from each footfall on the hard ground. Looking up, she spotted a row of young lodgepole pine trees, their low nettled branches promising some shelter.

  When she reached the dense row of trees, she dropped her burden with a loud groan of relief. Before she lowered herself to the ground to crawl under the protective branches of one of the trees, she straightened her spine and held her hands to the small of her back, rubbing the tight muscles. If only she could stand upright like this for a while longer. But another strong gust sent the branches whipping and swaying precariously close to her face, and she sank cautiously to her knees. She parted several of the branches, and hastily crawled into her shelter.

  There was enough room for her to turn around, but she had to stay low to the ground. The wind was, mercifully, barely noticeable. She reached her hand out from under the tree, feeling for the bundle of blankets she had dropped. The wood would be useless to her in this shelter. If she managed to start a flame, she might set the entire tree on fire. She would have to make due with the covers she brought, and hope they would offer enough warmth to get her through the night.

  Danica pulled her water bags from around her neck and uncorked one. She raised the tip to her parched lips, and took a long drink. The icy liquid chilled her insides, and in her haste for s
ome water, a sharp pain struck her forehead between the eyes.

  “Stupid,” she mumbled at her own carelessness at drinking too quickly. After the pain subsided, she swirled the water in her mouth before the next swallow to prevent a recurrence of the ache to her brain.

  Shivering even as her body was drenched in sweat, Danica unrolled her two spare blankets, and wrapped them tightly around herself. A wet body in this cold would be her death. She lay down on the soft musty earth, pulling her legs up as close to her body as was possible. She hugged her hands and arms to her stomach, rubbing in a circular motion, the cold from her numb fingers seeping right through her clothing. In a hasty decision, she dragged the water bags under the blankets, afraid they would freeze if she left them in the open.

  Removing a piece of tough dried meat from her pouch, she rested her head on the ground, and chewed the meat slowly. She didn’t have much of an appetite, but she knew she had to eat. Her condition demanded that she stay nourished and hydrated. The ache in her back radiated up and down her spine, but the sensation was less intense than even a few minutes ago. Tomorrow, she would have to figure out how to get to the nearest town. Before she closed her eyes, Danica prayed the blizzard would be over by morning.

  *****

  Josh Osborne swayed precariously on top of his worn-out horse, clutching the area above his left hip. He leaned low over his mount’s neck to shield his face from the wind’s furious onslaught. Thankfully, the flesh wound in his side had stopped bleeding. He couldn’t say as much for the hole in his left shoulder, though, judging by the occasional warm trickle of blood down his chest. The bullet was still lodged in the fleshy part just above his collarbone. Even the slightest movement sent searing hot pain shooting down his arm.

  Josh gritted his teeth, and steeled himself against the pain. He needed to stay alert. The howling wind was making his job more difficult as he urged his horse into the gale. Blinking hard to keep his eyes focused on the ground, he guided his trusting animal to follow the trail of hoof prints that would soon be obscured by the wind. Those bastards who had shot him wouldn’t be able to keep moving in this weather any more than he could. Another couple of hours at most, and it would be too dark to see anything. If he had any hope of catching up to the men he’d been tracking for several days, he needed to do it quickly. The gray skies promised snow this night.

  Josh cursed his own stupidity and carelessness. The poachers he’d been following since discovering their recent site of slaughtered bison must have known he was on their trail. He hadn’t been prepared for the ambush, and only some quick maneuvering and a fast horse had saved his hide earlier today. Men who profited from taking game inside the boundaries of Yellowstone were becoming more brazen. The animals and natural features inside the park were supposedly under the protection of the United States government, but there was no one in this vast wilderness to enforce this law. In an effort to deter the illegal harvesting of game, newly appointed superintendent of the park, and Josh’s cousin, Kyle Russell, had proposed hiring a game keeper to oversee the management of wildlife.

  “The position doesn’t pay much right now, and it sure as hell is a lot for one man to take on, but you’d be perfect, cousin,” Kyle had said when he approached Josh with the offer. “It’ll also allow you to stay on the land.”

  With the creation of a national park, Josh and Kyle’s homestead that their grandfather had established more than seventy years ago in the Madison Valley would become yet another casualty in the government’s vision of “a public park or pleasuring ground for the benefit and enjoyment of the people.” Josh scoffed. Benefit and enjoyment of which people? Obviously the government excluded those very people who had lived on these lands for thousands of years, and who considered the area sacred. The Shoshone people who used to call these mountains home, along with all other native tribes who migrated through the area, were being systematically purged and pushed onto reservations far away from their homelands.

  Josh knew that Kyle could not have foreseen this when he strongly campaigned to get the government to protect this area from settlement and private exploitation. Part of his plan had been to preserve not only the natural beauty and wonders of the area, but also the Shoshone’s ancient homelands. The land would be preserved, but its very first inhabitants were not part of the government’s plan.

  Protecting the natural hot water features, and the abundant wildlife in this area proved to be a daunting task. Kyle had his hands full establishing and enforcing rules for visitors. The government set aside very little funds for law enforcement in the park. Josh had readily agreed to oversee the protection of game. Poachers became more numerous every year. The vast numbers of elk and bison were easy targets, as were the bears and wolves. Hundreds, if not thousands, of animals were needlessly slaughtered for their hides and antlers, leaving the meat to rot. Without the means for proper enforcement, there was nothing to stop the poachers. Kyle’s hands had been tied. Until he received approval for a gamekeeper, all he’d been able to do was confiscate the hides, and tell the poachers to leave the area.

  Josh hadn’t been so kind. Since his appointment this past summer, word obviously had spread that anyone caught with hides or antlers would be escorted to Cooke City for prosecution. If they resisted arrest, Josh was quick with his rifle. Those poachers who remained to take their chances were obviously willing to kill for their profits, as the men Josh had been following proved.

  Josh reined his horse to a stop atop a rise leading to a shallow valley below. The sagebrush swayed in the wind, and Josh scanned the distance. The timberline several miles up ahead would provide some shelter. He hated to end his pursuit, but he needed to tend to his wounds. Glancing back at the ground, his quarry’s tracks suddenly scattered, and the hoof prints indicated that the horses had been driven into a fast gallop.

  Josh scanned the valley again, shielding his eyes with his hand against the wind. His hair whipped around his face. Countless black dots billowed in the wind about a mile away, and he squinted. Ravens fluttered about, even in this weather, announcing the death of some animal.

  “Damn.” He nudged his horse down the slope into the valley. What damage had those unscrupulous bastards managed this time? His stomach twisted into a tight knot as he drew closer to the site of the raven congregation. With a sinking feeling, he kicked his horse into a gallop, ignoring the heated pain in his shoulder and side.

  His jaw clenched tightly when he pulled his horse to a stop moments later. He counted six bodies lying about amongst the sage. Josh threw his right leg over his horse’s neck and leapt off its back, landing lightly on his moccasin-clad right foot to absorb the impact. He quickly limped to the first body on the ground and knelt beside it. An elderly man lay frozen in death. His eyes were closed, and his hands rested on his chest as if he were sleeping peacefully. Judging by the pallor of the man’s skin, he had died no more than several hours ago.

  Josh examined each body in turn. The family group consisted of the old man and woman, a young man, and three small children. His forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. These people had been carefully tended to after their death. Judging by the hoof prints on the ground, their killers had descended on the party quickly and mercilessly. They hadn’t stopped to even plunder the bodies of any belongings, and simply killed for apparent sport.

  Someone else must have posed these people after the killers left. Josh swept the area. There had to have been at least one survivor. Faint small footprints that the wind hadn’t obscured led away from the massacre site, in the opposite direction as the men he pursued. Josh weighed his options. He could continue his pursuit of the outlaws, or he could follow the surviving member of this family, and get more information about the killers. The person could tell him exactly what he would be up against. And, he reasoned, he needed to tend to his wounds. In his present condition, he might not be able to apprehend these men, who had proven twice today that they held human life in low regard.

  Wisely, the person who survived
was heading for the timberline, no doubt to seek shelter from the weather. His mind made up, Josh vaulted onto the back of his horse, groaning at the pain in his side. He hung off the gelding’s left side for a moment to catch his breath, then followed the faint trail of the lone survivor toward the forest. There was nothing he could do at the moment for the poor souls who had met an untimely and senseless death here.

  His horse covered the few miles to the timberline in very little time. Snow flurries descended all around him, their intensity increasing by the minute. Dismounting and remounting his horse earlier had re-ignited the pain from his wounds. It would be good to finally stop and rest. The person he’d been following couldn’t be much further up ahead. The footprints had started out with long strides, but as the distance covered increased, Josh could tell the person had slowed down, the prints closer together, indicating a shortening in stride. Was he or she injured? He’d soon find out.

  A line of young lodgepoles loomed up ahead, and Josh knew he’d found the individual he sought. The prints led directly to the trees. All other lodgepoles at the periphery of the forest were too tall and ancient to offer any kind of shelter. These younger ones, with their dense branches low to the ground could offer a person sanctuary much like a small cave. He reined his horse to a stop when he reached the trees, and eyed the bundle of firewood on the ground. He dismounted carefully, and pulled his blanket and rifle from the horse’s back. He removed the animal’s bridle, and hobbled the gelding’s front legs together, giving him enough line to find his own shelter, but not enough to run off.

  “Hello,” Josh called out in Shoshone. “I am a friend. You have nothing to fear.” He stood before the tree he suspected concealed the one he’d been following, and waited. The crunching sound of dry nettles from beneath the branches reached his ears. He knelt to the ground. Several branches parted, and he hardened his face in surprise. The person staring out from beneath the natural shelter was the last thing he expected. A woman’s ghostly pale face emerged, her emerald green eyes staring at him. Long wavy strands of golden hair whipped around her face. Her eyes held no hint of fear, only a fierce determination. The shiny glint of a knife drew his attention downward to her hand. His eyes darted to the weapon, then back to the woman’s face. In the deep recesses of his mind, she looked vaguely familiar. He frowned, trying to recall where he’d seen her before. Perhaps she merely reminded him of his cousin’s wife, Katelyn.