Bride of the Frontier (The Prophecy of Sisters Book 3)

by Hayley Faiman

“What did you dream?” I ask with a heavy sigh.

  There is a moment of silence and I hear fabric rustling around. “I’m getting comfy with my blanket. This dream was spectacular,” she says, then begins to tell me this fantastical story about knights, kings, queens, flying horses, dragons, and Vikings.

  “Mom,” I say with a warning.

  “Oh, and Liv is pregnant and Sybilla has just had a baby. It’s just so wondrous. I know they’re perfectly fine, Birdie, I wouldn’t have had such a warm and beautiful dream if they weren’t.”

  My mom has to be high as a kite. “Is Dad there?” I ask.

  “He’s not, but I’m telling you, Birdie, they are safe and happy. I am not worried about them at all. Not anymore.”

  I end the call shortly after, feeling defeated. I don’t know what to do and my stomach keeps twisting and cramping. Something is wrong, no matter what my mom thinks, her silly dream doesn’t make me feel warm and fuzzy at all. In fact, I feel the exact opposite after hearing about it.

  I just want my sisters back.

  Wherever they are, they need to just come home.

  Chapter One

  TWO MONTHS LATER

  COLT

  I don’t know her name, though I don’t need to. She’s here for one purpose only, she is here to provide a service. She sinks to her knees, her white long undergarment covering her nakedness, except for the expanse of her chest, the ties open just enough, her corset pushing everything up for my viewing pleasure.

  She opens her mouth, taking me inside of her, something that not many women or soiled doves do, in fact, she is the first that I’ve found who provides this service. Lifting my hand, I bury my fingers in her curls and gently tug her forward.

  I happily pay extra for this right here.

  Once I’ve spent down her throat, I take a step back and give her a wink as I pull up my wool pants and fasten the waist. Dipping my chin, I look down at her with a grin. She has a bit of sweat forming on her brow as she wipes the corners of her lips.

  “I’ll see you again soon,” I announce before turning and walking out of the room.

  Bessie is standing on the other side, a little too involved in my comings and goings at the Blue Bird Theatre. She gives me a coy smile and I have no doubt that she has business she would like to discuss with me.

  “I hear they’re pressuring you to take a wife,” she practically purrs.

  Arching a brow, I place my hands on my hips and wait for her punchline. If she asks me to marry her, I don’t think that I could keep my decorum. I might just laugh straight in her face.

  I need her just as much as she needs me, and not just for the ladies that live beneath her bordello’s roof, but also because she is a pillar of our community and an asset—financially. Her lips curve up into a grin as she takes a step toward me.

  “You need a wife and I have a whole house full of eligible maidens. Pick one, let’s forge an empire, Colton.”

  I almost laugh in her face. If she weren’t completely serious, I think that I might have. But Bessie is being serious and I’m wondering just what she has in mind.

  “I could procure an unused one for you, Colton,” she offers.

  Without a word, I turn my back to her and leave the bordello, her watching after me. I don’t want a wife and I certainly don’t want a soiled dove to share my personal bed, my name, or bear my children.

  Jogging down the stairs, through the bar and the men who are piled in, shoulder to shoulder. They’re drinking, gambling, and enjoying the women onstage just as much as the ones milling around looking for someone to take them up on a few hours of fun.

  Lonesable is waiting for me in the same spot I tied him off. Though I don’t really need to tie him off, he’s the most loyal animal I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

  “Hey fella, you miss me?”

  He neighs, but I hear his voice crisp and clear in my head. You have your fun?

  Chuckling, I swing up into the saddle, and click my tongue against my teeth and give him a light tap to signal him to move. He jerks his head with another neigh, then begins to trot back toward home. I don’t live in town, choosing to have my home built on the land that I was awarded with my position.

  I have two-hundred thousand acres in my personal name. Something that can never be taken from me, no matter what happens to my position. Though, that can’t truly be stripped from me either. They don’t call me a king, but it’s essentially what I am. I was voted into this lifelong position as the leader of this country.

  One day my children will have to be voted in, if they are of age. If they aren’t, then it’s possible that someone else can take their place, though I highly doubt that it would happen. When our country went to war with itself, it was all political.

  When the West won and the East lost, there was only one way to unite the people. A leader and a train uniting both sides together. Apparently, I was made that leader unanimously and then I was also placed in charge of the train.

  I’m not sure what I did to make them want me in this position. I was a warrior, a man in the military doing my duty to my country. I don’t feel as if I’ve done anything particularly noteworthy.

  I feel like the whole thing is kind of a joke, especially since the other aspects of the government think that they can give me instructions on what they want me to do and how they want me to behave, both as a leader and as a man.

  Riding up to the house, I’m surprised to see Ernest standing on the porch, seemingly waiting for me. Unless he has an urgent correspondence for me, he typically does his own thing and leaves me alone. To see him standing rigid and almost nervous surprises me.

  Jumping off of Lonesable, I allow him to ride on, knowing he’ll only go as far as the pond to grab a drink, then he’ll be back and make his way to the barn. Jogging toward Ernest, I stop in front of him and look down into his aging brown eyes.

  “There is something amiss,” he announces.

  “Amiss?” I ask.

  He nods his head once. “The ranch foreman found her walking aimlessly. She was thirsty, hungry, overly hot, and delirious.”

  “She?”

  He clears his throat. “We do not know her name. She is in a guest suite. Martha is looking after her, keeping an eye on her. She has been sleeping.”

  “Take me to her,” I growl.

  Is she a spy? Is she a native? Is she dangerous?

  All of these questions spin around in my head over and over as I follow behind Ernest and climb the stairs of my home, then turn right down a hallway and stop at the door across from my own double door entrance to my personal parlor.

  Ernest lifts his hand and knocks gently. Meanwhile, I feel like barreling through the dratted thing. Martha doesn’t waste any time at all, she opens the door swiftly, her round face tipping back to meet my own.

  “She still sleeps, sir,” she murmurs.

  Martha is my house manager. She sees to the well-being, cooking, and cleaning of the home. Essentially, she runs things and I allow her to as the only woman who resides here with me.

  Earnest walks into the room just a few steps and stands to the side. I march toward the bed, stopping at the foot, then lift my head and blink a few times at the sight of the woman lying before me. Her long black hair is splayed out around her head, her eyes closed, her skin pale and porcelain with patches of burned red flesh from the sun, her lips berry in color.

  The bedding is pulled up her body, to her neck, so I am unable to make out her shape, but it is smaller, slight. She’s the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on.

  My body lurches forward almost instinctually, reaching out, I wrap my fingers around the wrought-iron footboard and grip it tightly to keep from moving forward any more than I already have.

  Inhaling a deep breath, I let it out on a long exhale, attempting to calm myself and think clearly. Looks do not mean much to me, I should not be this affected by her looks alone. The only thing that I can think of is that she is quite possibly a
witch of some kind.

  She must have cast a spell on me, something that only takes effect if I look at her. I know this must be true, because I can physically not look away from her—no matter how hard I try. Something is very wrong with me, with her—with us.

  Her eyelids slowly flutter open and I’m met with bright blue orbs, unnaturally blue eyes. Her lips turn up into a small smile, but it only lasts a moment. Then, her entire body jerks to a seated position and she lets out a blood-curdling scream.

  BIRDIE

  It’s so dry. So fucking hot. Looking around, I realize I’m lost in the desert, but how did I get here?

  Something is wrong.

  I decide to replay the day’s events in my head as I continue to walk forward. I went to bed last night, got up this morning, made coffee, and spent the morning attempting to rearrange and rebook some clients to get to Seattle sooner, but it was all to no avail.

  Then, I jumped in my car and decided to do a quick grocery run so that I could spend the rest of the afternoon and evening editing the Williams family anniversary session. The last thing I remember was stopping at the red light and waiting for it to turn green again.

  There was a Chris Stapleton song playing on the radio and I closed my eyes for just a moment as I sang along. The music suddenly stopped and I reopened my eyes only to find myself standing in the middle of the blazing hot Arizona desert.

  I start to walk, not knowing where I’m going or where I am, and definitely not being dressed for an afternoon jaunt in the hot as fuck desert. I can feel my skin burning with each moment I stay in the sun, with each step that I take.

  Looking around, I try to find a shade tree, I would cuddle up next to a cactus right about now if I thought that it would save me from being burned and possibly adding melanoma to my future. But there’s nothing, nothing but rocks and dirt everywhere.

  I continue to walk for an undetermined amount of time, toward nothing but more desert. My feet start to shuffle and I realize that the cute flat sandals that I once adored are actually starting to melt with each step that I take.

  Dropping my head, I try to shield myself from the sun’s harsh rays as I shuffle forward, unsure of where I will land and when my body will finally give out.

  All I can do is think about Sybilla and Liv and wonder if they somehow suffered this same fate? Maybe I was kidnapped and drugged, left out here to die, and the same thing happened to me as it did them?

  There is a noise in the distance and I lift my head. There’s a man riding a horse toward me, and I let out a little laugh. This is unreal and I know that I must be close to death and hallucinating. My knees give out first, then my torso falls forward before everything goes completely dark.

  My eyes start to move from side to side and I hear voices far away in the background. I try to force myself to open my eyelids, hoping that I’m home in my own house, but something seems off.

  Inhaling, I almost cough, because this place smells nothing like home. There is an overwhelming scent of sage surrounding me. It’s an odd scent and I’m not even sure how I identify it, but that’s what it is.

  Opening my eyes, I look around, then forward and I find myself staring at someone dressed up in a wild west cowboy getup and I’m in a fucking bed—not my own fucking bed either.

  Parting my lips, I sit straight up, and I let out a scream. The man’s eyes widen and there is a woman next to me who reaches out and wraps her palm against my mouth to muffle the sounds until I stop.

  “Are you calm, yet?” the man in front of me calmly asks.

  His voice is deep, husky, and very gruff. I shake my head from side to side, because honestly, I don’t think I’m calm, not judging by the way my heart is slamming against my ribs. I kind of expect it to flop out onto my lap.

  His lips curve up into a grin and he leans forward slightly. “Are you a witch?” he asks softly.

  My brows snap together and I shake my head once. “No,” I say against the woman’s palm.

  She releases my mouth, slowly, hesitantly, but I don’t scream. Instead, I can’t take my eyes off of this man in front of me. I watch him, wondering why he thinks I am a witch. And who is a witch these days anyway? That just sounds weird. I mean, I’m sure there are witches, but who would think to even ask that?

  “What are you? A soiled dove on the run?”

  Tilting my head to the side, I don’t speak right away. “What is a soiled dove?” I ask.

  The woman next to me lets out a huff, and the man in front of me, he chuckles. “A bordello girl, a woman who works in a house of ill repute, a soiled dove.”

  I know that he’s trying to explain what a soiled dove is to me and he’s being cute, but the way he smiles, his green eyes bright and sparkling as he watches me, it’s hot as shit. Actually… now that I look at him, he’s hot as shit.

  He has what looks like dark brown curly hair that hangs just past his collar and brushes his shoulders. He has bright green eyes and he’s tall, wide-shouldered and slim-waisted. Plus, he has some serious stubble and boy, oh boy, his jaw is chiseled and sexy.

  I stare at him, not answering his question, because honestly, I still don’t understand it. Plus, I’m too busy ogling his sexiness, although I know that I should be thinking of other things, like how to escape this place and wondering why he’s dressed like an old west cowboy.

  It’s weird.

  “A woman who accepts money in exchange for her body,” he states, explaining it further and my head jerks back.

  “Are you asking me if I’m a hooker?”

  He arches a brow, his eyes still sparkling as he continues to watch me.

  “I have never sold myself for money. What kind of person asks a stranger that? Oh my god, you’re crazy. I mean, one time I did it with this guy that I was going to break up with, but he took me out to this fancy steak dinner and bought dessert, I felt obligated, but I broke it off with him the next day. Oh my god, does that mean I’m a hooker?” I ramble with a gasp.

  His brows snap together and the smile disappears from his lips. He turns his head to the side and starts to talk with a quiet man who is standing against the wall. He’s tall and thin with gray hair and he looks like he’s kind of been through hell in his life, but he’s surviving even though he kind of appears as though he’s doing it with a stick up his ass.

  “I understood her, but I did not understand her,” the sexy stranger says to the man.

  “I can say with all honesty, sir. I have no idea what came out of her mouth and how it did so, so quickly,” he says, dryly, just as I expected he’d talk—with a stick up his ass.

  Sexy stranger turns to me, a frown on his sexy lips. “When you’ve rested, I will see you in my parlor. It’s directly across from here, and Miss Martha will bring you to me.”

  He doesn’t say another word and doesn’t allow me to speak either, instead, he turns and walks out of the room, his gray-haired, thin man following close behind and they leave me alone with the woman who is still sitting beside me.

  I must be dreaming. That’s it. I’m having one of those vivid dreams my mom was telling me about. Maybe Liv and Sybilla are going to appear and tell me they’re safe and happy. Maybe I just need to go back to sleep. That’s it. I just need a little more sleep. I’m too stressed out about Sybilla and Liv.

  Chapter Two

  COLT

  Sitting at the small desk in my parlor, I decide not to go down to my main home office. I’m not willing to miss seeing her. I want to watch her walk into this room, I want to see her standing upright and take in her true shape. Take in every part of her.

  I don’t know who this woman is, but she is important somehow. I can feel it. She is not a soiled dove, she did not speak of a husband lost. In fact, the way that she spoke was odd in and of itself.

  There is more to her and I need to know if she’s some kind of spy or what exactly her purpose on my land is and why she would walk around the desert with little coverings and no horse, alone.

  Ernest
appears with a tray of food and water as I asked him to. He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his sideways glance in my direction. I ignore it. As the leader of this entire country, I can and do what I wish without giving him or anyone else an explanation.

  Though, I’m technically supposed to have a consult with the Assembly before I make any major decisions, but they can’t stop me from doing a dratted thing. Not at all. I have ultimate power, which I didn’t agree was the way they needed to reform the government, but they voted and made that decision, not me.

  “You have a comment?” I ask Ernest before he leaves the room, curious to hear what he has to say about the situation.

  He clears his throat, then looks to his boots before he lifts his head and his gaze meets mine. “I fear she could be dangerous, sir.”

  I hum. He’s probably not completely wrong, but I’m not quite sure what kind of danger. I don’t know if she’s dangerous for our country or just me personally. Thinking about her again has me reasoning that it is more likely she is dangerous for me personally more than anything. I am far too physically attracted to her.

  “She probably is,” I admit. “Though I won’t know the level of danger until I speak with her a bit further.”

  He nods his head once, but doesn’t move from his post. I fear the old dog may actually like me and be worried for my welfare. I want to tell him not to bother, that I can care for myself, but I don’t. Something inside causes me to hesitate.

  Clearing my throat, I stand to my feet and walk over to the window. Looking out, I take pride and joy in the fact that everything for as far as my eyes can see is mine. I’m not sure that I’ve earned every bit of it yet, but I will.

  With my hands clasped behind my back, I stand staring at the land as the sun begins to drift downward and start its descent to set and the night slowly takes over. I don’t know when she’ll find her way into my parlor, but I’ll wait until she does.