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  Easing back from the doorway and facing the small room, she clamped her jaw to keep from screaming. The sum Stanwick demanded was outrageous, and she’d made no promise. How had the saloon owner convinced this man of his claim? She scanned the area but saw no way to escape without being seen.

  Stanwick leaned forward and pointed. “I brought along an agent from what amounts to the law in this territory to help enforce my rights.”

  “Mister Templeton.”

  Good. Papa’s voice is calm. Knowing she had to see the action, she dropped to the floor and laid flat, the rifle ready in her right hand.

  “I don’t argue I have a debt owed to the Lucky Nugget Saloon.” Papa directed his comments to the agent. “I did leave town without paying.”

  “He admits it.” Stanwick swept his arm in a wide arc. “Arrest him.”

  Templeton lifted a hand. “I’m here to settle the debt.”

  “I wasn’t finished, sir.” Papa’s posture straightened. “When Stanwick made threats about forcing my daughter to work for him, I thought only of her safety first.”

  “Threats?” Frowning, Templeton jerked his head toward Stanwick. “You mentioned nothing about these circumstances when discussing the complaint.”

  “I didn’t threaten.” Stanwick shrugged, but he narrowed his gaze and looked around the yard. “I offered her a choice of jobs.”

  Vanora hated being this far away. She didn’t trust what Stanwick would do, especially now that his plan was on the verge of unraveling.

  Papa settled his hands on his hips. “I counted being forced to marry without due consideration of my daughter’s wishes as a threat. So I did what any parent would to protect his own. Besides, I never owed Stanwick anywhere near what he’s claiming.”

  “What was the amount you owe, Mister Deverell?” Templeton pulled out a pencil from a pocket.

  “You can’t go by what he says.” Under Stanwick, his horse danced and tossed his head “I’m a businessman. If loans aren’t paid, then interest accrues.”

  Her breath caught. The saloon owner was losing his patience. She debated about creeping closer but didn’t.

  Papa shook his head. “And the going interest rate is one hundred percent? That’s usury, and I won’t pay. By my figures, after the partial payment that was mailed, I owe you seventeen dollars and seventeen cents.”

  “You can’t prove that twenty-five dollars ever reached me.” Stanwick’s voice rose. He struggled to control his horse and spun in a circle before charging toward the barn. “I demand the entire amount.”

  Shoulders back, Papa stood his ground opposite Stanwick, even though the horse danced a mere foot away. “How could you know the correct amount of the mailed payment if you didn’t receive it?” He dug into his trouser pocket and pulled out a gold coin. “Here’s the balance.” He stepped to the left side of the Pinkerton agent and handed up the coin. “The extra is what I consider a reasonable amount of interest on a loan of less than a week.”

  Hefting the coin in his palm, Templeton glanced between the two men. “Mister Stanwick, this transaction appears to be completed.” He passed over the payment.

  Stanwick snatched the coin, his face flushing a deep red. Then he drew his pistol and aimed at Papa.

  His henchmen replicated their boss’s action.

  Grabbing the rifle, Vanora jumped to her feet and slid around the exterior of the tack room. At the back of the barn, she reviewed her options. When guns were drawn, she’d seen the two henchmen spread out. Moving forward on either side of the barn posed a risk, but Papa was at the mercy of an angry man.

  A sound came from her left, and she whipped around, lifting the rifle to her shoulder. Then she lowered the muzzle.

  Trent ran at a crouch from the far side of the corral, his pistol at his hip. “I saw the riders. Who’s here?” He positioned himself next to her.

  “Stanwick and two of his men. And a Pinkerton. Papa paid his debt, but Stanwick wants more.” She left out the part about Stanwick demanding her, too.

  “No one gets the better of me, Deverell. Especially not a weak-willed gambler like you. I’m faced with men refusing to pay after that disappearing act you pulled.”

  “That the saloon owner?” Trent looked back at the direction he’d come.

  “Yes.” She followed his gaze and spotted the other hands moving toward the barn, guns drawn. Relief weakened her knees for a moment. The numbers were more even.

  “Do you know what you’ve done to my reputation in Virginia City?” Stanwick yelled. “Caleb and Josh, escort the Pinkerton on his way. He’s of no value anymore.”

  “Stanwick, I protest—”

  Vanora leaned away from the wall enough to spot Templeton, with guns aimed at him from both sides, ride back in the direction of Morgan’s Crossing. “Two men and the Pinkerton are gone.”

  “Don’t worry, Vanora. We’ll get Owain out of this mess.” Trent signaled Ford and Gordon to go to the left of the barn, and he beckoned Hans closer then pointed around the other side. Just before he moved out of sight, he turned back and met her gaze. “Stay here.”

  “Now, Deverell, where’s that sweet daughter? I intend to take her back to Virginia City. But not to marry.” He laughed. “No, I’ve got the perfect little job she’ll do to bring in the customers.”

  A shiver went down her spine at the man’s crazy-sounding tone.

  “She must be in the house.”

  Papa’s misdirection might work, but she stayed ready to come to his defense.

  “Hey, Jonesy, I like the look of that black stallion in the paddock. We’ll take him along for our troubles.”

  Vanora stiffened. A third member of his gang? Duke was not going anywhere. Trent needed that stallion, and he shouldn’t have to suffer for Deverell problems. Taking a deep breath, she slipped around the corner of the barn and marched down the row of stalls. The shadows should mask her approach for at least half the barn’s length. With the rifle at her shoulder, she sighted along the barrel, keeping the despicable man in her sights.

  Stanwick waved his pistol back toward Papa. “Tell me where that daughter is, Deverell, or I swear I’ll plug you with lead.”

  “I’m right here.” Vanora stepped into the middle of the aisle. As soon as Stanwick’s gun moved, she squeezed the trigger.

  Then everything happened at once. Stanwick roared, and his horse reared back, dropping him to the ground. Papa dove toward the corner of the barn. Gordon and Ford grabbed the reins of the third henchmen and wrestled him off his horse.

  Vanora ran toward Papa, but he waved her forward. She trained her weapon at Stanwick who writhed on the ground, moaning, but she kept scanning the area, unsure of where Trent ended up.

  Moments later, the two henchmen came into view on the road, walking with their hands on top of their heads. Hans and Trent followed with guns leveled, leading two horses. “McVale, ride toward Morgan’s Crossing and bring back the Pinkerton agent.”

  “Right, boss.” The ranch hand jogged off along the barn to collect his horse.

  Thirty minutes later, Stanwick wore a sling after being patched up, and the whole gang sat tied against a horse stall.

  Despite being ordered by Papa and Trent to stay in the house, Vanora leaned on the wall next to the door. This issue was too important, and she wanted to find out what was being done with these men.

  “No sheriff in the mining town, huh?” Templeton paced a few feet then turned.

  “Closest one is in Sweetwater Springs.” Trent shifted his boots in the straw. “Sixteen hours away in a hard ride. Otherwise, count on the better part of two days.”

  “These danged assignments in the frontier.” Templeton pulled off his hat and scrubbed a hand through his thinning hair. “I’ll need help transporting them.”

  Trent blew out a breath. “I’ve got to head into the mountains and drive down the last of my herd. I don’t think I can spare anyone.”

  “I’ll go.” Papa faced the agent. “This mess was brought on
by my vice. I’ll accompany the agent getting these men to Sweetwater Springs and swear out my statement to the sheriff.”

  Vanora bit back a gasp. She’d known this moment would come. Resignation pulled at her shoulders as she turned toward the house. Tears sprang to her eyes, and this time, she let them fall. These few days on the Rolling M had changed her and given her hope for a different life. After all she’d been through, she was back to the same routine—packing up and leaving…once again.

  Epilogue

  Saturday afternoon, the group from the Rolling M loaded into the farm wagon and headed toward Morgan’s Crossing. Vanora wore a dress made in a light blue floral pattern, and she tied back the top section of her long hair with the ribbon Trent won at the funfair. She was pleased to be in the company of four spiffed-up cowhands who’d shaved, slicked back their hair, and wore their best shirts.

  She couldn’t have been prouder than when Papa stepped up to deal with Stanwick and his gang. He’d insisted she remain behind because he wanted to deal with the consequences of his actions. Maybe he would stay away from the faro tables now. Papa should have finished his business in Sweetwater Springs and be on his way back. Before he left, he’d told her not to expect him for several days, because he intended to make the rounds of the outlying ranches. They’d found their winter spot.

  The meeting hall was decked out with all sorts of wildflowers—she didn’t know all the names but the pink, purple, and yellow blossoms gave the air a sweet scent. She was glad to see Cinnia’s familiar face at the entrance table, who waved over her husband, Nicolai, for a quick introduction.

  Trent headed for the tables along the side wall and set down the ham he’d pulled from the smokehouse and asked her to slice. Faces and names blurred as Vanora moved through the room at Trent’s side. He greeted everyone and drew her into the conversations. Then whispers of “she’s coming” circled the room, and everyone quieted.

  Vanora glanced at Trent, eyebrows raised.

  Smiling, he held a finger to his lips.

  The crowd burst out with cries of “Happy September Serenade” and “Congratulations.”

  A woman with strawberry-blonde hair stood at the entrance, mouth gaping. She turned to the tall broad-shouldered man at her side.

  The man cupped her cheeks and bent his head for words that only the two could hear.

  Vanora looked on with a lump in her throat. She yearned for the type of intimacy that made everyone else in the room disappear.

  Trent leaned close. “That’s Dorrie, who organized the dances this summer. And her husband, Valerik, who provides music on his balalaika.”

  His warm breath on her cheek caused a shiver. She remembered Cinnia mentioned the couple and that they were related by marriage. The petite woman gave a speech that echoed all the things Vanora had been feeling about how sharing time with people being important.

  A late-arriving couple with an infant arrived and caused quite a stir. Moments later, guitar-like music filled the air, and people moved to the edges of the room to provide space for dancing.

  Trent turned and held out his hand. “Let’s join them.”

  Unable to resist, she slipped her hand in his. “I’m a bit rusty.” In truth, she hadn’t danced since her school years.

  “Follow my lead, and you’ll be fine.” Grinning, he trotted to the end of the parallel lines.

  By the time the tune changed for the fourth or fifth time, she stepped to the beat only a half second behind her partner but didn’t care. The movement, the laughter, and the accidental bumping of partners or strangers all blended into a congenial atmosphere. Each of the ranch hands asked for a dance, and Trent claimed each one between. A request she was most happy to grant, because he made her feel special. She couldn’t tell if the feeling came from his sure touch as he guided her through the steps, or his attentiveness to their conversations, or making sure she had enough to eat—she’d savor them all.

  After eating her fill and dancing several more rounds, she finally begged for a chance to rest. As Trent escorted her toward the door, a pause in the music occurred, and she glanced over her shoulder. “What’s happening?”

  Trent turned to look and grinned. “I’ve never seen Nicolai play before nor have I ever seen Valerik dance.”

  “Well, he’s really just standing there and moving Dorrie around him.”

  “True.” Trent nodded then glanced down. “Not bad for a man who lost several toes to frostbite.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know.” That poor man. She pressed her fingers to her mouth. “I’ll bet that’s a hard story to tell.”

  He rested his hand at the back of her waist and guided her through the door into the cool night air. “My guess is the one you told me about Preece was just as hard.”

  “True.” She breathed in the night air and listened to an owl in a distant tree. Out of habit, she looked for the brightest star to the north and made a wish. “The one involving Stanwick is not one I need to repeat.”

  “Why not?” He turned her so she faced him. “You ought to be proud of fighting against a man who tracked you for a couple hundred miles. Although…some women might be flattered by that type of behavior. Sure you don’t want to wait until Stanwick’s prison sentence is over?”

  She spotted the telltale quirk of his lips before he broke out a smile. “He didn’t want to marry me as much as he wanted control over me because of Papa’s gambling.” She looked up and blinked fast, the way she’d read about in a story in a Young Women’s Journal left behind in her bedroom. In those stories, flirting in the moonlight always ended in a kiss. One she wanted to enjoy from this special man. “I only have an interest in a man who escorted me to this wonderful town.”

  “I like how small actions make you happy.” He caressed a finger over the apple of her cheek then leaned close to brush his mouth on top of hers.

  The gentle touch sent a tingle though her whole body, and she inhaled through her nose. His lips moved in small nips, making her want more. She rose on tiptoes to press closer, grabbing the front of his shirt for balance.

  He leaned back, breaking their connection. “Too bad about tonight.”

  “Bad? What do you mean?” Had she been such a horrible partner? “Tonight has been delightful, if you don’t count my clumsy attempts at dancing.”

  “You were a great partner.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “What I meant was the dances were a monthly place for courting couples to go.”

  “Is that what we are?” Her pulse raced. His statement was almost more exciting than a kiss.

  His brows wrinkled, and his gaze searched hers. “If you agree.”

  Wanting to tease him just a bit, she dipped her chin. “Maybe I should wait to give you my answer until Dorrie starts up the dances again in the spring.”

  “Not on your life.” He shook his head. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to beat away all the beaus who’ll flock to the ranch’s doorstep after meeting you tonight.” Trent brushed his lips against her forehead as he drew her close to his chest. “If you’re serious about waiting, I’d have to consider kidnapping you away to the closest preacher.”

  Under his joking tone, she heard determination in his words. Vanora breathed in his scent and listened to the steady beat of his heart. Here in his arms, she found security and the beginnings of a steadfast love. “Don’t even mention the word kidnap. Sure as shooting I want to be courted.” She pulled away enough to gaze into his eyes. “But if you drag your heels, I’ll have to draw my weapon to hurry you along.” She grinned. “And you know I always hit what I aim for.”

  “No more guns.” He spread his arms wide. “Switch your ammunition to hugs and kisses and take your best shot, because my heart is your target.”

  DEAR READER,

  When I was offered the opportunity to participate in Debra Holland’s Montana Sky Kindle World, I was flattered and excited. I’ve been a part of this special fictional world, behind the scenes as an editor, since 2012. I’ve grown t
o love these characters as if they are my own family members.

  So, I wanted to find a story that would bring new characters into the world that hopefully readers wanted to meet and would come to care for. I also wanted to have Debra’s beloved characters cross paths with mine in interesting situations. That was a given.

  In my first story, Laced By Love, I created sisters who had to rely on one another after they were orphaned as young teens. That story features the younger sister, Cinnia, and her search for a home and love.

  The second story, An Unlikely Marriage, featured the older sister, Nola York, who is on a quest that she hopes will lead her one step closer to her dream. After all these years of relying on one another, the sisters made choices that will put them at opposite ends of Montana Territory.

  For the third story, Dance Toward the Light, I starred the third member of the set of vaudeville troupe friends, Dorrie Sullivan, and put her on a path to determine what came next in her life. Because vaudeville has filled her life for many years, she capitalizes on those skills.

  In the fourth story, Baling Wire Promises, I set the last Andrusha brother, bounty hunter Pete, traveling to reconnect with his brother, Nicolai. All does not go as planned, and Pete finds himself in a situation he could never have predicted.

  For the fifth story, Hearts in Rhythm, I featured an injured ballet dancer who has to find a new profession. She receives help from an unexpected ally in horse trainer Estefan del Vado.

  In the sixth story, In His Corner, the hero was a boxer struggling to get into the championship circuit. I matched him with a woman possessing knowledge of herbal remedies to heal his wounds.

  For Love’s Target, I considered using Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show again because the cast of those performances was huge. But the geographic distance of the East Coast where the shows were staged and Montana Territory posed such a big problem. One very popular act in entertainment shows of the time was sharpshooters. Smaller versions of Buffalo Bill’s show were staged all over the West.