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Prologue
Nineteen-year-old Alice ran from the house, her features wrenched in grief as she nearly flew over the stone steps edged by fragrant orange marigolds. With her heart beating fast and hard, she fought back the sobs that desperately wanted to erupt from her throat. She cut across the yard just as she heard the front door open and her stepfather call after her.
“Alice!”
She ignored him, her breath now coming in ragged gasps. The shrubbery passed by in a green blur as she headed toward the shelter of the woods behind the house. Only then did she allow her sobs to bubble up and escape, gasping cries of disbelief, pain, and heartache. She slapped at branches and scared a couple of rabbits with her thrashing footsteps. Twigs snapped under her feet. Between the trees in the near distance, she saw the surface of the lake, the late afternoon sun glinting against the surface in shades of silver and orange.
Finally, in the midst of a copse of trees, she tightly grasped the branch of a birch tree. She bent over with her mouth open wide, her eyes shut tight as a silent wail erupted from the very depths of her soul.
How many times would she lose someone she loved?
First was her father, who had passed away when she was eleven years old. Just minutes ago, her mother had slipped into blissful eternity, no more pain, though her own pain had just begun. She released her grasp on the tree and leaned forward, bracing her arms against her knees, not caring that her soft-hued yellow dress was now caked with dirt and leaves.
In the distance, she heard her stepfather, William Cooper, calling for her. She ignored him. While her mother had been very happy with William and vice versa, he’d always been rather cool toward Alice. Without words, he seemed to constantly remind her that she was not his real daughter. Oh, William was a kind and polite enough man who had provided her with a roof over her head and food on the table, even an education at Miss Sanderson’s School for Girls. Yet it’d always be clear to her that while he was willing to provide the daughter with shelter and food, he’d entered into the marriage for her mother and no one else.
Her grief overwhelmed her, and she sank down onto her knees, dirtying her dress even more. Her hands dug into the leaves that had recently begun to drop from the trees. Curving her fingers into handfuls of crackling leaves, she lifted them from the rich, loamy soil beneath. Stared at them a moment and let them fall. Another deep, lingering moan left her throat as she lowered her head to the ground. Lord, why did you take her away? Why would He do such a thing?
Immediately ashamed of her thoughts, she asked for forgiveness in whispery agony. “Lord, please take my mother into Your loving embrace. Thank You for releasing her from her pain and suffering, and please send Your comforter to me. I need it, Lord, I truly do.”
She felt sick to her stomach at the thought of having to make her way through life without her mother. She felt bad for running from the house so abruptly, leaving William alone with his own grief and pain, but she didn’t suppose that he would turn to her for any comfort. In fact, now that she thought about it, she distinctly remembered him softly closing the door to the bedroom he shared with her mother just after she had bid her own mother good-bye and before he entered the room to say his own farewells. Then, standing in the hallway outside of the bedroom, her ear pressed against the door, she heard her stepfather’s low moan as her mother took her last breath.
She didn’t know how long she remained down by the lake on her knees, in the leaves and the dirt. She didn’t notice until the shadows began to grow deeper. The birds quieted, and the squirrels were long gone, tucked into their burrows away from trolling predators of the night. She lifted her head, pounding now, her nose stuffy and her throat raw. She blinked, taking in the scenery around her but not really seeing it.
For the briefest of moments, guilt traveled through her. She had run off and left William there with her mother, where she should’ve stayed. Instead, she had run away, run as fast as she could, away from death, as if doing so, her mother’s final surrender to it hadn’t happened. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be! Yet deep down, she knew it was true. She was left feeling sorry for herself, putting off the inevitable, and acting like a coward.
Slowly, she rose to her feet and glanced down at her dress, slowly shaking her head. It would be a miracle if she could get the dirt out. She caught her breath. Here she was, thinking about her dirty dress when her mother was lying in the bed in her bedroom, the one she shared with her husband. Chances were that William would still be there, sitting in the chair beside the bed, holding her mother’s hand. Her mother, Mabel Cooper, husband of William Cooper, while she was still Alice Walker, having kept her birth father’s name. William had never offered his, even after he’d married her mother.
She began the slow trek back to the house, weaving her way among the trees, fearing how silent the house would be now without the sound of her mother’s laughter or her soft singing as she worked in the kitchen or tended her flower and vegetable gardens in the backyard. Alice’s heart had never felt so heavy.
“Please, Lord, help me to be strong and brave. Help me to…”
She didn’t even know what she needed. She no longer had a mother to guide her. Throughout her mother’s rather slow and long decline, William had already begun to distance himself from Alice, spending most of his days in their bedroom with the door closed. Last week, William had sent for the doctor. He’d briefly examined her mother and then emerged from the room, his expression resigned.
And so, she and William had stood helplessly by while whatever was taking her mother away continued to increase her fatigue. She wasted away and experienced coughing fits that caused even William to wince as they wracked her body. She grew ghastly pale and so weak she couldn’t lift her hands from the bed. Again and again, Alice had asked the doctor why he couldn’t help her. He shook his head and told her that some people just had stronger constitutions than others. He had hinted at a possible recovery but told her there was nothing he could do to make her better.
“That decision is in the hands of God.”
Alice didn’t cast any blame on William for her mother’s condition. She knew that he loved her mother with all his heart. It just seemed as if he didn’t have any room left in his heart for her. The doctor hadn’t been able to tell them what was happening to her mother other than her heart was failing. What caused it, he didn’t know.
So she and William had stood silently outside of her mother’s bedroom when the doctor emerged and told them to do their best to simply keep Mabel as comfortable as possible and let her rest. He had provided them with laudanum, a concoction that contained morphine derived from something called opium or some such. Alice didn’t really care what was in it as long as it eased her mother’s pain and quieted her nerves.
When she emerged from the woods and returned to the house, prepared to mount the steps onto the veranda, the front door swung open, and the doctor emerged in the process of settling his derby hat atop his head, her stepfather close behind. The doctor peered down at Alice, gave her a sorrowful look, and slowly shook his head.
“I’m sorry about your mother, Alice. If there’s anything you need, or any questions you have, you come see me, you hear?”
Alice swallowed thickly and nodded. She looked beyond the doctor toward her stepfather, who seemed to have aged ten years since her mother had fallen ill. His shoulders drooping and with bags under his eyes and a stunned expression on his face, he simply stared through her as if she were invisible. As the doctor came down the steps, leaving William on the porch, he placed his hand on her shoulder and spoke very softly.
“Watch after your stepfather and send for me if you need me.”
Alice glanced up at him and forced a small smile. “Thank you, Doctor Abrams, for everything.”
He merely nodded, and then, with a long sigh, he headed toward his horse and buggy that had been left in front of the small barn. William Cooper stood by the door, his eyes watching the doctor pull the buggy out of the yard, although Alice had to wonder if that’s what he was truly seeing. She slowly took the steps up to the porch and paused beside him. Finally, she managed to work the words from her throat.
“What are we going to do now, William?”
That’s what she called him. William. He didn’t answer her, his mind elsewhere. She moved past him and into the house, knowing better than to try to encourage him back inside. There were arrangements to make. She had a feeling that William wasn’t going to be doing it. She supposed that their housekeeper and cook, Mary, would be more than willing to help. Mary had loved her mother deeply. Mary had been a member of the staff since Alice could remember, and William had agreed to keep her on after the death of Alice’s father, his marriage to her mother, and then his subsequent moving into their home.
It seemed odd now that she was the one that felt like the outsider, the stranger, even though she had grown up here. She took the stairs up to her room, her footsteps softened by the carpeted stairs. Her eyes downcast, she didn’t pay attention to the dark maroon carpeting with the gold leaves and indigo flower pattern as she moved quickly to her room, not once glancing at the closed door behind which her mother lay. She would need to send notices to the Reverend McGruder, who, unfortunately, had been out of town for the past week, tending to a farm family a couple of hours away.
She knew the routine. The funeral would be conducted at the house. Women and friends of her mother would come to wash and prepare her body for burial, while the men would dig a grave at the local cemetery. Before the burial, someone would be sitting up with her mother’s body for three days to ensure that she really was dead and would never return. It was either that or bury her mother with the grave bell. She knew neither she nor William would bear the thought of her mother waking up in a coffin below ground, being forced to find the string that ran from the coffin to the surface of the ground, where it would be attached to a bell, which could be rung if the deceased woke, only to realize that they had been buried alive.
To her, the idea of a grave bell was an old wives tale, until she had attended the funeral of an outlying farmer whose wife had insisted upon it, even after the three-day wake. Death was death, she knew, and only Christ the Lord could resurrect the dead.
Chapter One: Alice
A month had passed since her mother’s burial, yet Alice still struggled with the fact that her mother was no longer there, in her life. The house sounded different. She no longer heard her mother’s footsteps coming downstairs. She yearned for the sound of her mother’s humming. She missed the hint of verbena-scented perfume she sometimes wore. She missed her mother. The only thought that gave her comfort was that her dear mother no longer suffered. She was in heaven now.
She often placed fresh wildflowers on her mother’s grave. She had done so every day since that horrible day that she’d died.
“I brought you some flowers, Mama,” she murmured. “I think you’ll like them.”
The practice was maudlin, she knew that, but she also felt compelled to do it. This morning, as it had been ever since the burial, she saw evidence that her stepfather had also been here fairly recently. A wilted white rose had been laid on the grave, still nothing more than a mound of dirt, one of the newest in the family cemetery about half a mile behind the house.
“William misses you something terrible,” she continued. “I do too. I wish you hadn’t had to leave, Mama, but I know you’re not suffering anymore.” She believed that. Her mother wasn’t hurting anymore. Her own pain had just started.
She looked at the flowers on the mound of still-fresh dirt. Very soon now, the roses would go dormant, as would the wildflowers. She would have to find something else to place on her mother’s grave when she visited. On each visit, she talked to her mother as if she weren’t gone at all, but of course, she never received a response. She didn’t expect one. She hoped that her mother was now at peace with her first husband, Martin, Alice’s father. She imagined them happy and without a care in the world.
Down here, Alice grew increasingly worried. Over the past month, William had barely left the bedroom he had shared with his deceased wife. He didn’t leave the house to go to church, nor to take care of business in town. Instead, he simply sat in his room, staring out the window. Even Alice knew that retreating so far into himself wasn’t good. He grieved for her mother deeply. She wanted to try to comfort him somehow, but she didn’t know how.
Though she missed her mother desperately, even achingly, and the mere thought of her often brought a flood of hot tears to her eyes, she knew that she couldn’t allow herself to grow morose. She prayed for strength. Strength for what, she didn’t know. She felt like a stranger in the home she had grown up in. Even Mary had remarked on it just a couple of days ago.
Since her mother had grown ill, William had ever so slowly retreated into his study and his work. At first, she had simply thought him uncaring, but she later realized that he just couldn’t bear to watch the love of his life slowly fade away. Losing her mother had not been easy on him, but it wasn’t easy on her either. She felt alone, and her stepfather’s retreat into his own solitude didn’t help any. She needed to talk to him.
If only she had someone to talk to. Bethany, a good friend, had returned to Chicago with her family from their summer retreat in these woods along the Des Plaines River south of Joliet. William often took the train out of Chicago to take care of business, but he seemed not to care too much about that right now. He had his hand in a number of businesses throughout the state, like his lumber yard down near Springfield and his interests in the Illinois Central Railroad, not to mention his bank in Peoria.
She sighed. “At church today, Mama, I met a handsome young man.” She smiled. “His name is Anthony. I’ve seen him around a few times this summer but never talked to him before today.” She paused. “I don’t know his last name.” She looked around at the woods surrounding her, only the birds and the squirrels and perhaps a rabbit able to hear the private words she spoke to her mother. “He has slightly long and wavy black hair and dark brown eyes, like he might have some native blood, but I don’t know, and it doesn’t really matter.”
A bird twittered in the tree overhead. “He approached me this morning as Mary and I were walking toward the buggy. William was speaking with the reverend near the door of the church.”
This was silly. Her mother couldn’t hear her. She wished she could as she recalled every word of the conversation…
“Miss Walker, might I talk to you for a moment?”
Both she and Mary had turned. Alice had felt a slight leap in her heart, glanced at a frowning Mary, but then shyly nodded. She darted a glance toward her stepfather and saw that while his expression was blank, he had stiffened.
“Alone?”
Alice glanced at Mary, whose frown deepened as she started to shake her head.
“We’ll just be over there, in plain sight,” Anthony commented. “It’s just for a moment, Miss Walker, a message that my parents wanted me to pass on to you.”
Once more, Alice turned to her stepfather. He didn’t seem all too happy, but he didn’t say anything. Maybe he just doesn’t care what I do anymore. Maybe he never did. She felt bad thinking such things about her stepfather. She replayed the incident in her mind, idly wondering if she was just being foolish.
Even though Alice could tell by Anthony’s doubtful expression that he didn’t much care for Mary’s sense of propriety and protectiveness over her, Alice placed a hand on Mary’s shoulder and spoke softly. “I’ll just be a moment, Mary.”
Her mouth suddenly grew dry, and her heart gave a funny little jump. She was not used to being the focus of attention of any man. Even so, Alice took a few steps closer to Anthony. He grinned and whipped his hat from his head, his fingers fidgeting with its brim as she approached. He attempted a smile until he again glanced over her shoulder, his grin disappearing. Without looking, Alice assumed that Mary was probably glaring at him for his lack of propriety.
“I just, I just wanted you to know that I was sorry about your mother,” Anthony said. “And I know this might not be the right time to ask, but I was wondering if you might agree to allow me to escort you to the dance next Saturday night.” Before Alice could say anything, he continued, “It’s the last one of the season. After that, we’ll be closing up our house for winter and leaving Chicago.”
Alice was surprised. While she saw Anthony often in the area, as his family was also rather wealthy and owned a summer home in the area, he had never before made an attempt to approach her. At first, she didn’t know what to say. What would her stepfather think? Then again, he didn’t seem to be thinking much of her lately.
“That would be nice, but I’ll have to check with Will—my stepfather first.”
Who was she fooling? Certainly not her mother. The plain truth of the matter was that she had welcomed the distraction, something to turn her thoughts away from loss and grieving and pain, if just for a little while.
On the way home from church, William told her to see him in his study after she changed out of her Sunday dress. Instead, she had jumped down from the buggy before it reached the stable, intent on visiting her mother’s grave at the family cemetery before returning to the somber, often silent house. She supposed she had lingered here long enough.
By the time she returned to the house, she found the downstairs eerily quiet. She barely heard Mary in the kitchen as she started her preparations for the Sunday supper. She knew where her stepfather was. In his study. She walked down the short hallway past the front parlor on her way to the kitchen and then paused in front of a closed door. She knocked on it. Though no answer came, she heard movement inside.
“William?” Nothing. “William, can I come in? You said you needed to talk to me.”
Finally, he responded. “Come on in, Alice.”
For several moments before she turned the brass knob at the door, Alice felt a surge of anger toward him. She was struggling. She knew that her stepfather was grieving, too, but shouldn’t they do some of that together? He wasn’t often downstairs anymore. He had never neglected his business interests before now, not even when her mother had fallen ill. He was always away most of the week, taking care of business, or so he would mutter before coming and going. Still, he was a wealthy man, so there was really no reason why he would have to leave her and her mother here alone so much of the time.
She didn’t expect her stepfather to provide much comfort for her, but she’d been left alone to her own devices for days and days. She’d roamed the house and the yard, and sometimes helped Mary with her chores. Most times, though, she spent hours and hours out in the woods or sitting by the lakeside, feeling sad and lonely. She had no one to talk to about her grief, except God, and she had a feeling that even He might be tired of hearing her talk about her sorrow and how much she missed her mother.
She opened the door and stepped into his study. Two of the four walls were lined with bookshelves. Most of the books were old and about business topics or political treatises written by the country’s early founders. Heavy dark blue velvet drapes shuttered out any light from the early afternoon sun, and the windows were closed. The room felt stuffy. William sat at his mahogany desk, the houseplants behind and on either side of the window behind him looking like they could use a good watering. He didn’t look up at her, pretending to be busy even though there were a few papers sprawled over his desktop.
“Is there anything I can get for you, William?” He mumbled something unintelligible. She didn’t know what to say to him, not really. Since her mother had died, she had felt like she was living with a total stranger. “Or is there something I can do for you?”
He looked up at her, his brows furled. “Can you bring your mother back?”
She inhaled sharply, not expecting the comment nor the expression on his face when he said it. She knew that people grieved differently, that some got quiet, some got mad, and some shook their fist at God.
He seemed to realize what he had just said and heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
“Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked kindly. She was growing worried about him now.
“No,” he said softly. “What did Anthony want?”
“He asked me if I wanted to go to the dance on Saturday night, the last one of the season before he and his family left Chicago to head back home.”
That caught his attention. When he looked at her, she saw a frown forming and anger in his gaze. “Dancing? So soon after your mother’s passing?”
She heard the accusation in his tone and sought to explain. “Well, I—”
“And to be seen talking in the company of a young man, a young man without a very good reputation, I might remind you, alone and without a chaperone?”
Now it was her turn to frown. “We were in the yard of the church, in plain sight of Mary and you and the reverend!”
“I won’t have my stepdaughter soiling her reputation, nor her mother’s reputation and memory, or mine, by cavorting with someone of Anthony’s reputation.”
Cavorting? Before Alice could defend herself, he continued.
“Alice.” His voice softened. “I think you’ve known for a long time, from the very beginning, in fact, that I loved your mother very much. I tried to be kind to you, and I provided you with food and lodging, and even an education—”
“All of which I appreciate very much, William.” It was true. She had always been diligent in trying to be respectful, always telling the truth, and always being kind to her stepfather. “I have great regard for you. I’ve tried to honor you as much as did my own father. I’ve tried to follow the teachings of the Bible, and I have always strived to show you the gratitude I feel for the devotion you showed my mother, and your care of me.”
He looked away and then slowly shook his head before looking back. “I understand that, Alice, but you’re an adult now. It’s way past time that you found a husband and made a family of your own.”
What? What was he saying? Now that her mother was gone, did he want to be rid of her so quickly? Pain stabbed at her heart.
“You don’t have to worry about it,” he said. “I’ll find you a husband who will care for you and treat you properly.”
Alice’s heart pounded even harder. Was he marrying her off? He wanted to get rid of her so badly that he would arrange a loveless marriage for her? She gazed at him, eyes wide with dismay. Fear and disappointment prompted a sheen of hot tears. “William, what do you mean? I’m not ready—”
“You’re nineteen years old and will be twenty in another month or so,” he grumbled. “It’s time you got yourself a husband. Your mother’s gone now, and frankly, I’m going to be spending more and more of my time outside of Chicago.” He frowned again. “And I can see by your behavior in the churchyard that you need supervision.”
“William, I don’t understand—”
“I’ve started making some discrete inquiries.”
Inquiries!
“William, I apologize!” Her heart raced, and her mouth grew even dryer. Panic threatened. “I didn’t think I was putting myself in a compromising situation!” She rushed on, “I never intended to risk my reputation by simply speaking to Anthony, you have to know that.”
“Be that as it may, people saw the two of you together, standing much too close. One of them came to me with her concerns.” He frowned. “There will be no discussion about this. Now please leave me alone.”
He turned in his chair to stare at the closed drapes over the window, arms crossed over his chest. She waited a few seconds, then turned and left the room, quietly closing the door behind her as warm tears brimmed in her eyes. What was she supposed to do now?
“In the Arms of the Outlaw” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!
Nineteen-year-old Alice Walker, grappling with the recent loss of her mother, is thrust into a new life in Silverpeak, Colorado. In this untamed wilderness, she reluctantly joins her sister, who runs a boarding house. With her gentle demeanor and hidden strength, Alice’s unwavering faith fuels her journey to convince others of their untapped potential. It is in this rugged terrain that she crosses paths with Reed Walker, a haunted bounty hunter, and their chance meeting sparks in her a connection that might even transcend her sorrows.
What hidden depths will this encounter enlighten in Alice?
Reed Walker, a rugged bounty hunter burdened by his past, reluctantly agrees to help Ella Thomson, a boarding house owner, in escorting a distant relative to town. After having left behind his faith and choosing a solitary life, Reed is unaware that meeting Alice will completely reshape his understanding of inner strength. Her unique power will captivate him, and their journey to Silverpeak will become a voyage of self-discovery and a test of beliefs.
Will he manage to resist her transformative influence?
Amidst their clashing ideologies, Alice and Reed find themselves united against a rising common threat. While navigating internal struggles and confronting external obstacles they unravel the complexities of their own hearts. Will their divergent paths converge into an enduring love, or will stubborn hearts push them apart in the face of adversity?
“In the Arms of the Outlaw” is a historical western romance novel of approximately 60,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.
OFFER: A BRAND NEW SERIES AND 2 FREEBIES FOR YOU!
Grab my new series, " Faith and Love on the Frontier", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!
Hello there, my dear readers! I hope you enjoyed this little sneak peek of my new story. Looking forward to reading your comments!