Cheyenne Reckoning
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
Cheyenne Reckoning
Paradise Valley
Vivi Holt
Black Lab Press
To my friend, Claudine.
You inspire me.
Contents
FREE Book
About Cheyenne Reckoning
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
Excerpt: Forgotten Trails (Paradise Valley)
Historical Notes & Author’s Remarks
Also by Vivi Holt
About the Author
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About Cheyenne Reckoning
Claudine Hopkins is a woman on the run. A slave in pre-war Tennessee, she knows that if she doesn't escape now they'll take her baby, and she'd rather die than let that happen. But when she arrives in Arkansas, her worse nightmare becomes a reality. Lost and alone, she spends her days working toward the time when she can make things right again.
Dan Graham is the head cow boss at Paradise Ranch. When the plans he's made for his life are overturned by a black-bearded outlaw, he sets out to seek revenge.
Claudine and Dan cross paths in Cheyenne. Both have a goal, and both will do whatever it takes to reach that goal. But neither one of them is ready for what comes next. When unexpected love blooms between them they find themselves fighting for their very lives. But will Dan be willing to let go of his anger to embrace her love? Or will his need for revenge tear them apart?
1
October 1870
Dan Graham gave Goldy’s reins some slack as the horse picked its way over the uneven ground. The trail to Dolly and Emily’s house was white with snow, though thankfully not too thick due to the tree cover. The muddy ground showed through in dark patches. A rope pulled taut, and he glanced back at the two horses trudging along behind him – one chestnut, one dappled gray, both with blankets over their backs and secured across their supple chests.
It was time for him to speak to Dolly Hampton about marriage. His heart thundered, and even in the frigid air a droplet of sweat slid down his left temple. He took a quick breath. What if she said no? They’d never spoken of it before – heck, he hadn’t even kissed her. So there was no way for him to really know how she felt about him.
Why hadn’t he kissed her? He’d been visiting her for months now, and over that time his affection for her had grown. They were nothing alike – she was British, raucous and fun, loud and bright. He was a country boy, serious and slow-moving. It was enough difference that sometimes he wondered if he’d be doing the right thing by marrying her.
Perhaps it was the husband she’d lost to a fever less than a year ago, or the baby that husband had fathered before he died. Perhaps it was because he’d never come close to marrying before. He’d always thought he’d die a bachelor cowpuncher beneath a sky full of stars. But it was time to take a step forward – to marry Dolly and bring her and Emily to their new home. It didn’t make sense he’d waited so long. He wanted to marry her and spend his life with her, and she and Emily needed someone to care for them.
As he drew closer to the dark little cabin, its eaves laden with white, his pulse raced with anticipation. He should have done it last week, before Antonio and Lotte’s wedding, but there’d been so much to do around the ranch before the first snow fell, and then the wedding had kept them busy a while longer.
Now there was nothing in his way. He’d hoped to marry Dolly and bring her and little Emily home with him before snow covered the trail, but it couldn’t be helped now. They could bundle up in the furs he’d brought with him. Genevieve had helped him pack, letting him borrow her things – she was excited to welcome another woman to the ranch.
He glanced back at the two horses in his wake, one for Dolly and another to carry their things. It was too bad he couldn’t bring a wagon to the cabin, but the trail was too rugged and the snow deep in some places. They’d have to take turns carrying Emily inside their coats, and he might have to return for the rest of their things later if the pack horse couldn’t carry everything Dolly wanted to take.
Something caught his eye beside the river. He pulled Goldy to a halt and peered through a grove of junipers down to the water’s edge. There was some kind of new structure there. He dismounted and scrambled down the riverbank.
He could see it more clearly now – it was the start of a mining operation. A long sluice, half-built, hung over the cold water as it flowed silently downstream between borders of ice. At the far end of the sluice were the beginnings of a large wheel, and behind it the foundations for a hut.
Dan scratched his chin and surveyed the construction site. There was no one around, but it was clear a gold mine was being built, just as Angus O’Leary had said it would. The thug had visited Dolly a month earlier – he worked for the company behind the nearby mine and had offered to buy her cottage. She’d refused, but was certain Angus O’Leary wouldn’t take no for an answer.
He remembered how scared she’d been, and wondered what Dolly would say about it now that the mine was well underway. Were they still after her cottage? No doubt she’d have plenty to tell him about that and everything else going on in her life – she always did. He smiled as he pictured her bustling around the tiny cottage, fixing coffee and chattering about it all. He loved their conversations – they made him feel warm and important.
The mine, O’Leary … none of it would matter if she agreed to marry him and leave all this behind her. He returned to the horses and saw a flash of the cabin’s dark wooden walls through the thick woods. He grinned, even as his beard crackled with ice. He couldn’t wait to see them.
A sudden pang of fear stabbed through his heart – he couldn’t see any smoke wafting from the cabin’s small chimney. Dolly hadn’t said anything about moving out or traveling anywhere the last time he was with her. In fact, she’d seemed adamant they would stay in the cabin, even when faced with Angus O’Leary’s empty black eyes. She’d said it was their home and they wouldn’t budge. He’d been proud of her at the time, but now his gut roiled. He urged Goldy into a trot, tugging the other horses roughly behind him.
When he reached the cabin, he looped all their reins around a hitching post he’d set up himself only weeks earlier, then ran to the front of the building and up the few rotting steps. He pounded on the door with his gloved hand, then peered through the single window, cupping both hands around his face to try to see inside. His breath fogged up the glass and he shook his head in frustration. He couldn’t see anything. But there surely was no fire in the hearth, nor any other light that he could perceive inside the tiny room. “Dolly!” he cried,
pounding again.
The door opened inward with a squeak of its leather hinges. He pushed, sending it crashing against the wall, walked inside and saw her immediately. Dolly lay on the floor against one wall, her skirts twisted around her legs.
“Dolly!” He ran over and knelt beside her, taking her head in his arms in one swift motion. “Dolly, it’s Dan. Dolly, wake up!” But he quickly realized she wouldn’t – she was cold to the touch and her eyes were open, staring at nothing. He leaned down to feel her breath against his hand, but there was none. She was gone.
“Dolly!” He squeezed his eyes shut and slammed a hand on the floor. “No!” He slumped back against the wall and rubbed his face. How had this happened? Did she freeze? He studied her face, still pretty with her dark lashes vibrant against her pale skin. A smattering of tiny freckles on her upturned nose made her look like a sweet cherub, and he groaned as grief swirled in his chest.
There … on one side of her head, he felt a lump. He turned her face toward him and saw dried blood against her temple. She’d clearly been struck by something hard that had left a large gash in her scalp.
Emily! He leaped to his feet and ran to the baby’s crib in the corner. Emily was there, covered in blankets and furs, but her lips were blue. His heart dropped. “Emily, sweet girl,” he whispered as he lifted her into his arms.
She moved and uttered a soft whimper, and he sighed with relief. She was alive. “We’re goin’ for a ride,” he whispered in her ear. He adjusted the woolen cap on her head and wrapped her snugly in a soft blanket, then tucked her inside his shirt as he’d done once before, the first time he’d come across Dolly and Emily when he and Coop had been going after stray longhorns. Both of them had been sick with the fever that had taken Dolly’s husband. The memory made his throat tighten.
How had he let this happen? He’d moved too slow, taken too long. He should’ve proposed to Dolly months ago. Grief and guilt washed over him and his stomach clenched. He shook his head, took a long slow breath and stared at Dolly’s still form, his forehead creased. Finally he bent at the waist, picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. Her body had begun to stiffen, and he had to fight the anger welling up inside him. He had a job to do – he couldn’t think about anything else yet. First and foremost, Emily needed him.
He walked from the cabin and back to the horses with Emily snug in his shirt and Dolly lolling over his shoulder. He laid Dolly over the packhorse and tied her onto the saddle with some rope he’d strapped to its saddlebags. His throat tightened as he tied a blanket around her to shield her from the cold – and from his view.
He’d have to move fast to get Emily to Bozeman before she too succumbed to the cold. At least she was old enough now to eat solid food, though from the way she looked he wasn’t sure he could wake her up enough to try. He found some soda crackers in his saddlebags, slipped off a glove and held a cracker to her lips. “Hungry?”
Her eyes flitted open, and she moved her lips, then took a small bite and chewed listlessly. He nodded, then offered the rest of the cracker to her. Her fingers uncurled and took hold of it. He grunted with satisfaction, pulled his glove back on and mounted Goldy with a frown. It would be hard going along the trail to Bozeman, but he’d have to push the horses as fast as they could manage it.
It took Dan until mid-afternoon to reach the bustling little town. Snow drifts and ice impeded them every step of the way, and by the time they got there the horses were spent. He’d stopped every so often to give Emily some water or another cracker to eat. She’d perked up some, watching him from within his shirt with wide eyes between stretches of sleep.
In Bozeman, people scurried between businesses and their homes. It was quieter than usual, no doubt due to the cold and the dark clouds filling the sky. There’d be more snow before the day was through. He reached the doctor’s office and slid from Goldy’s back, his legs almost too stiff with cold to walk. He shuffled in, grateful for the warmth of the fire inside. “Doc, you in?” he called.
He heard footsteps, then saw Dr. Matthew Underhill’s round face appear through the doorway of the parlor. “Dan Graham! Good to see you, though what you’re doing visiting town in this weather, I’ll be glad to know.”
Dan frowned. “Not here to be sociable, I’m afraid.” He opened his coat and slid Emily out of his shirt.
The doctor’s eyes widened. “Is that the same wee lass you brought me a few months ago?”
Dan nodded. “It is.”
“What in Heaven’s name …?” The doctor took Emily from Dan and smiled. “She looks well enough. What’s the problem?”
Dan groaned with grief. “I found her cold and hungry. I don’t know if she’s sick, but I’ve been feeding her crackers and water the whole way here …” He rubbed his face and sighed deeply.
“Where’s her Ma?” the doctor asked, carrying Emily to his examination table and setting her down with a smile. She immediately reached for the stethoscope around his neck and tugged it, grinning. Her feet pumped up and down, and Dan noticed a small flush of pink in her cheeks.
“She’s dead.”
Dr. Underhill looked up in alarm. “What happened?”
“I was hoping you’d tell me. I’ve got her outside, strapped to my packhorse.”
The doctor nodded as he pressed the stethoscope to the wriggling child’s chest. “Well … bring her in, then.”
Dan went out, carried Dolly inside and laid her on another table in the same room.
Dr. Underhill frowned and lifted Emily. “Why don’t you take the child into the back room for a moment while I examine her Ma?”
Dan nodded, set Emily onto his hip and carried her out of the room. His throat was tight and he found he couldn’t speak for a few moments. When he set her on the ground, she grinned and stood, swaying slightly. He couldn’t help smiling at her happy face. “So you’re walking now, huh?”
She giggled and ran toward him, collapsing with another laugh against his legs.
He sighed and stroked her downy head. “Everything will be just dandy, you’ll see,” he whispered. Then the doctor called him, and he set Emily in a chair and hurried out to hear what he had to say about Dolly.
“She’s been struck hard on the head. Looks like the blow killed her, maybe not right away but soon after. She didn’t have a chance.”
Dan frowned and set his hands on his hips. His chest tightened and he felt anger burning in his gut. “Someone hit her? I thought that was probably it, though I hoped she’d just fallen …”
Dr. Underhill shook his head. “No, blow’s too severe for that. Looks like something metal, perhaps. I can’t say how long she’s been dead, given the weather, but likely not long. And whoever did it left the child to die as well, it seems.”
Dan rubbed his chin and took a slow breath. “I think I know just who that person might be.”
“Well, then you should go see the sheriff. In fact, tell him to come on over and take a look – I’d like to talk to him about it myself.”
“I’ll do that,” replied Dan. “I just have to stable my horses down at the livery, I won’t be long. But … what about Emily?”
Dr. Underhill was still examining Dolly. “The child?” he asked absently.
“Yes.”
“If you go through the office to my house and tell Mrs. Underhill, I’m sure she’ll take care of the girl for a bit. She seems well enough, at least nothing that a bowl of hot soup won’t fix.”
Dan nodded and headed for the door.
“Oh, and Dan?” Dr. Underhill caught his eye. “I know you’re hurting over this. But don’t do anything stupid?”
Dan’s cheeks flushed. It was a warning he probably needed. “Of course not, Doc.”
2
June 1862
Claudine Hopkins clutched her baby daughter Gracie to her chest and peered frantically to the right, then the left. Second Street in Memphis was packed with folks going about their everyday business, but to her this was a day like no other. From this
day forward, everything about her life would change – for better or worse.
Gracie squawked, likely in protest over how tightly her mother held her to her heaving bosom. Claudine shushed the child and loosened her grip just enough to give the baby some comfort. “There, there, chile. Not long now.” She hustled down the street, willing her face to portray the calm she didn’t feel inside. It wouldn’t do to give herself away, not when she was so close to the Burkle house – or “Slavehaven,” as it had become known.
Her heart pounded and she swallowed hard, her breath coming in shallow gasps. What was she doing? It was too dangerous. Any moment Mr. or Mrs. Williams could come around the corner and see her, she just knew it couldn’t last — this moment of freedom. She tucked the babe closer to her chest. The girl quickly complained, and she clucked her tongue gently as she rocked her. “Shhh … shhhh …”
She soon reached number 826 and paused at the front gate before hurrying across the yard to the back. The sun was setting behind her, giving the house an eerie look. It was a squat white structure with tall windows in the front that looked like wide-open eyes, and she shivered as she passed them. She should be at the Williams’ house now, in the kitchen preparing supper. They’d notice she was missing soon if they hadn’t already. But there was no going back now, at least not without some kind of explanation for her absence.