A Widowed Rancher Stopped for a Mother and Daughter in the Rain… She Said ‘Stay Back or I’ll Shoot
Chapter 2
Thomas Hale had been a widower for six years.
He lived alone on a ranch that stretched along the eastern side of the valley.
His wife, Elizabeth, had died giving birth to their son.
The boy had lived only three days.
After that, Thomas had stopped inviting people into his house.
He worked.
He ate.
He slept.
He woke before dawn.
That was enough.
Or so he had convinced himself.
When he reached the ranch that night, he dismounted beside the barn.
The woman remained several yards away.
The child was wrapped in Thomas’s coat.
Thomas pointed toward the house.
“You can use the kitchen.”
The woman didn’t move.
“You first.”
Thomas almost smiled.
“You really don’t trust me.”
“No.”
“Fair enough.”
He walked into the house.
The woman followed.
She kept the pistol hidden beneath her cloak.
Thomas noticed.
He pretended not to.
He built a fire.
The girl sat beside it.
Her teeth chattered.
Thomas placed a kettle over the flames.
“What is her name?”
The woman hesitated.
“Lucy.”
The child looked up.
Thomas nodded.
“Lucy.”
The girl stared at him.
“What’s your name?”
The woman answered for her.
“Lucy doesn’t speak to strangers.”
Thomas looked at the woman.
“Then I suppose we’re all strangers.”
Her jaw tightened.
“I’m Sarah.”
“Sarah what?”
“Sarah Bennett.”
Thomas nodded.
“Thomas Hale.”
“I know.”
He looked at her.
“How?”
Sarah didn’t answer.
Instead, she looked toward the window.
Thomas understood.
“You’ve heard of me.”
“Everyone in this valley has.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
For the first time, something almost resembling amusement crossed her face.
It disappeared quickly.
Thomas served them hot broth.
Lucy drank too quickly and began coughing.
Sarah placed a hand on her back.
“Slowly.”
Thomas watched.
There was something unusual about the way Sarah cared for the girl.
Not like a mother.
Like someone who had promised another woman she would keep the child alive.
Later, when Lucy fell asleep near the fire, Thomas brought blankets.
Sarah refused his help.
“I can manage.”
“You’ve been walking through rain for hours.”
“I can manage.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“I said I can manage.”
Thomas set the blanket beside her.
“Fine.”
He walked away.
Sarah watched him go.
Then she looked down at Lucy.
The child’s hand was wrapped around a small brass locket.
Sarah opened it.
Inside was a miniature portrait of a woman.
Her sister.
Anna.
The woman Lucy had called Mama.
Anna had died four days earlier.
And before she died, she had made Sarah promise one thing.
“Don’t let them take my daughter.”
Sarah had promised.
She had not expected to have half the county hunting them by dawn.
