A Stolen Heart in Dallas (Preview)

Chapter One

“Watch your step!” the porter shouted. Martha caught herself just in time, before her heel fell straight down the gap between the train and the platform, but the near-miss hardly daunted her. There was too much to look at above ground to make her care about what her feet were doing.

“Anthony, there’s our baggage. There!” Martha’s mother, Mrs. Jackson, called out over the crowds waiting for other trains to come and go. Amid the crush of people and foggy steam billowing from the trainyard, Martha saw the pile of trunks and suitcases that her mother was talking about. 

“Get them quickly before someone else steals them!” Mrs. Jackson yelped. 

“Don’t worry, Mama. We won’t let anyone take our things,” Martha promised before shooting her brother a knowing look. After a full week of traveling from Chicago, not one good night’s sleep, and a hungry stomach to boot, Martha and Anthony knew it was only a matter of time before their mother lost her temper.

She was a perfectly lovely woman most of the time, with an easy disposition and open heart perfectly suited to her role as a pastor’s wife. However, her nerves were delicate, and with so many unknowns in the air, Mrs. Jackson’s patience was fraying. 

Anthony led the way toward the pile of sacks and trunks, quickly locating their three valises and passing them back to Martha. 

“Where did Mama go?”

“Over there. Looks like she found a quiet corner,” Martha pointed out. Mrs. Jackson was stationed by a shaded pillar, hanging on to it for dear life as though she was afraid of getting swept up into the current of people. 

“I wish your father was here to meet us. How I long to see his face again!” Mrs. Jackson whimpered once they made their way back to her. Anthony reassured their mother that the parsonage they would soon call home was close enough to the station to walk to, so it wouldn’t be long before they’d get to see Pastor Jackson again.

“So much walking. I suppose that’s why we packed light. There were so many things I would have liked to take with us from Chicago, but… we’ll make do, won’t we? Come on! Your father must be desperate to see us!” Mrs. Jackson picked up her own suitcase, forced a smile, and led the way toward the exit of the train station. 

“You’d better carry that for her, or we’ll never hear the end of it,” Martha whispered to Anthony, who did as he told and lightened their mother’s burden. 

“Don’t forget that Papa brought a whole trunk of our belongings two months ago!” Anthony said to Mrs. Jackson, kissing her on the cheek. 

Mrs. Jackson’s positivity returned as soon as they got free of the throngs of people wandering around the train station. Martha led the way to the church and parsonage where her father had been waiting for them for weeks. 

The separation had been hard for everyone. The Jacksons were a tight-knit family and always had been, but with the children getting older, they’d grown even closer. At nineteen years old, Martha knew she’d likely get married soon and leave her family’s home. Seventeen-year-old Anthony would be close behind, as long as he could figure out how to make a living on his own. 

“Doesn’t feel much like Chicago, does it?” the lanky Anthony said, hoisting two valises under one arm.

“There’s a river, just like in Chicago,” Martha replied, pointing behind them at where the Trinity River sparkled on the other side of the station. Looking down at the hand-drawn map her father had sent in advance of their arrival, it looked like a very long river indeed. 

“It’s a drier heat. That will take some getting used to. Your father wrote to warn us of how hot Dallas would be, but I underestimated the strength of the sun.” Mrs. Jackson held a hand up to her forehead, blocking out the blinding, early evening light.

She was right. They’d only been in Dallas for two minutes and already Martha felt hotter than she ever had before, and it was only April. From what she heard, the summer would only get worse. Martha reached into her red calico skirt pocket to feel around for her fan, but it wasn’t in there. It was probably packed away in the purse over her arm, but it wasn’t worth the extra energy it would take to fish out. 

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Mrs. Jackson fretted.

“I’m very sure. In fact… look! There’s the St. Jude’s steeple!” Martha exclaimed, pointing into the distance. The noise of the busy, wide, street covered the sound of Mrs. Jackson’s squealing. Being amongst throngs of people was normal for Martha, seeing as she’d grown up in Chicago. Even from her short amount of time in Dallas, she could tell it was a smaller city, though still very vibrant. The light gave an orange glow to everything, and all the men in cowboy boots gave away that they were very far from home. 

The St. Jude’s steeple reached up tall over the lowly stone buildings on the wider street, but when they turned the corner and were finally standing in front of the church, it was smaller than Martha had expected it to be. It was built from grey stone, with an engraving over the door that read “1853.” There were charmingly colored stained-glass windows that decorated the side walls and a small cemetery in a quiet adjoining yard.

“Hardly looks like it will fit more than thirty or forty congregants,” Anthony noted. 

“Oh, but it’s so charming! It looks just how I pictured it to be! A little peaceful oasis in the heart of a bustling city. I’ll bet if we closed our eyes and just listened to the birds and rustling leaves, we wouldn’t even know there was a train station within walking distance with clanging metal pieces and whistles being blown. A little piece of paradise sent to us by God,” Mrs. Jackson gushed. Martha smiled. Her mother’s fussy moments were never long-lived. In the end, joie-de-vivre and faith in the Lord always brought back her goodwill. 

“It had better be like paradise to make it worth the move,” Anthony grumbled, temporarily setting down the suitcases and stretching his wrists. 

“I love how quaint it is.” Their church back in Chicago had been able to hold a hundred people at least, so Martha was looking forward to a calmer pace of life. Dallas was still a city, of course, but from what Martha could see of it so far, it fit in perfectly with her fantasy of frontier life. She dreamed of making lemonade, wide open spaces, and maybe even adventures of her own. 

Back home, Martha spent most of her time reading or running errands, and the only flowers she saw were the ones sold by young women downtown in tattered clothes desperate for a bite of bread.

The sight of a full garden that ran down the south-facing side of the church almost made Martha clap her hands with joy. Though she’d never planted anything herself, she’d done a good deal of reading on the matter and was excited to try. 

Anthony, on the other hand, was clearly not as excited about the move as Martha was. While Martha had always struggled to make friends who didn’t mind her shyness, Anthony had a close group of friends that he was sad to be leaving behind. Martha had a feeling the separation would be good for him. This way, he could settle on a life of his own instead of always following in the footsteps of his friends. 

She had sympathy for her brother, however. Pastor Jackson’s decision to leave for Texas felt to the whole family like it had come out of nowhere. Everything had happened so quickly. Papa came home one day saying he’d been called by an advertisement in the newspaper, and the next week he was en route to the new church. Anthony had had very little time to get used to the move. For Martha, however, it was a refreshing change of pace. 

“As much as I’m enjoying staring at the outside of our new home, I think we should go find Papa! Do you think he’s in the house, or—”

Before Martha could finish her sentence, Pastor Jackson thrust open the doors to the chapel and opened his arms wide to greet them all.

“My love!” Mrs. Jackson called out, rushing through the gate to the churchyard until she finally reached her husband’s arms. 

Martha studied her father as she and Anthony walked down the path. He looked slightly thinner in the face, but it was the cowboy hat on his head that really made him look different. His black coat and white collared shirt were the same as ever, and Martha was pleased to see he had the same old twinkle in his eye. In fact, it may have grown even stronger under the Dallas sun.

“My sweet, sweet family! I can’t tell you how good it is to see you here! What do you think of our new home? I know it isn’t the biggest chapel in the world, but I think we’ll have some profound days of worship in this place. You should hear how heavenly it sounds when the organ kicks up!” Pastor Jackson said, showing them around the small church. 

“It’s perfect. What it lacks in size it certainly makes up for in beauty. And an organ! I never would have guessed from the outside that it would have anything but a piano,” Mrs. Jackson exclaimed, running her hands over the tops of the rich, chestnut pews.

“It’s a charming church, Papa. You picked well. How’s the house?” Anthony asked.

Pastor Jackson swallowed. “Well, it’s… cozier than our last home. So, that will take some getting used to. I happen to think it’s a charming house with a lot of promise. As long as we put our love into it, it will be the home we’ve always wanted!”

The light-flooded chapel grew quiet. Pastor Jackson was given to putting a shine of positivity onto everything. If he thought the new parsonage required a lot of work, then that probably meant it was missing the roof. If he said it was cozy, that likely meant there was only one room. Still, nothing was going to bring down Martha’s spirits that day. Tired as she was, there was only room for excitement in her heart.

“Why don’t you just give us a tour and we’ll stop assuming the worst in our minds,” Mrs. Jackson said with a laugh, hooking her arm around her husband’s.

Pastor Jackson sighed happily, looking around at his family. “I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to see you all here. I’ve been dreaming of this day for weeks now.”

“Dream no longer. We’re here, Papa!” Martha replied.

The parsonage did indeed need some work. It wasn’t quite as small as Martha had worried it might be, but only certain rooms in useable condition. In fact, it was quite a big house, even if the floors were threatening to give out in certain areas. 

“Ah. I see what you mean about all that work…” Mrs. Jackson said as they tip-toed through the house. The wallpaper was peeling and there was a thick layer of dust over just about everything. 

“There’s a good deal of promise,” Martha agreed. “May I ask… what happened to the previous tenants?” 

“There hasn’t been anyone living here for some seven years. A bout of cholera hit this neighborhood hard, and it hasn’t fully recovered until now. Since there have been more people coming in from the north and east, there have finally been calls to open up the doors of St. Jude’s once more. We’re going to make a fine home here and make a real community for these people. You’ll see.” Pastor Jackson proudly straightened out a cross that was hanging on the wall in the hall leading to the kitchen.

“I have no doubt. Tell us about the people you’ve met so far,” Mrs. Jackson demanded. Her husband obliged, running through a list of names that no one was going to remember as he led them through the rest of the house. 

There was a majesty to it that made Martha think it must have been a glorious house in its heyday. As soon as they got to what would be her room at the top of the stairs, Martha could hardly see the place for what it was anymore. All she could see when she looked at the peeling wallpaper was the promise of what it could be. In her imagination, the drab table by the bed had a vase of freshly picked flowers, and there was a new coat of paint on the window trimmings.

“This is the room I never knew I always dreamed of,” Martha said, more to herself than to her family, but everyone heard her anyway. 

“You dream of dust and grime?” Anthony asked his sister with a smirk.

“Look at the view!” Martha protested, pointing out the arched window. There were some taller buildings in the distance, but for the most part, the vista was filled with treetops and the stained-glass windows of the church. 

“It’s a spectacular view. Best in the house. Which is why I thought you would like it, Martha. Have you kept up with your watercolors?” Pastor Jackson asked.

“I have and I’ll certainly keep going now that I have new things to paint!”

“Yes, there are the beautiful treetops. You should have seen the apple blossoms a few weeks ago! All fallen to the ground now, I’m afraid. But I’ll be waiting for a painting next year! You see that bit of smoke coming up there?”

Martha followed her father’s finger as he pointed out the window. Sure enough, there was a winding trail of smoke coming from nearby and disappearing over the skyline.

“Is that from our neighbor’s house?”

“Yes and no. It’s from the blacksmith shop. Tomorrow, I’ll take you all on a tour of the area, so you know where to go for anything you might need. Dallas may be smaller, but we still have everything we need within walking distance. They even put a pump into the kitchen last week, so there’ll be no need to haul water in from a well outside!” 

Martha was almost disappointed, though she knew she’d appreciate the convenience eventually. She was hoping to learn how to keep a proper house and lead a quiet way of life away from the factories of Chicago. With running water and gas streetlamps, Dallas was hardly the frontier she’d hoped it would be, but the air was much fresher at least. Martha was determined to make the best out of the situation, and she wasn’t the only one. 

“We’ll be able to make this place into such a home!” Mrs. Jackson exclaimed.

“Having you all here with me, that’s what will make this house a home. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you all!” 

Martha melted into her father’s arms. Even Anthony had to crack a smile. After weeks of uncertainty and not knowing what Pastor Jackson’s sudden urge to go to Texas would lead them to, it felt worth it. She’d always trusted their father to know what was best for their family, but even Martha had to admit it was a bit strange for a pastor as well respected as her father to pick up his entire life and move across the country after seeing an advertisement in the paper.

The candles flickered over the dinner Mrs. Jackson managed to throw together with what was in the kitchen. The stew was lukewarm by the time they all managed to sit down, but no one complained. There was too much adventure in the air. Martha, Anthony, and Mrs. Jackson filled the pastor in with all the stories from their travels. Martha could have stayed up all night listening to her father detail his first few weeks in Dallas, and they all discussed how much good they could do through the church. 

“Oh Lord, thank you for bringing us to this wonderful place. May the people be as kind as my father seems to think they are, and may Mama find friends quickly. I hope that you can bless Anthony with some kind of purpose, guided by your love. Help lead him with your light and good word,” Martha prayed in a hushed whisper before bed that night. 

Finally lying down in bed, Martha’s bones sunk with exhaustion into the straw mattress beneath her. Still, her mind was full of too many thoughts to fall asleep. Her mind stayed active as her eyes got used to the light of her new room. Martha stared up at the ceiling, here and there noticing a loose nail or a bit of peeling paint. 

A thousand ideas rushed through her mind as she thought of everything she wanted to do the very next day. Make new curtains, start taking down the ancient wallpaper, and think about what color each room in the house ought to be painted. Then, of course, there was everything she wanted to do at the church. Get into the garden and give the place a good sweep, but also get to know the children in the neighborhood. Bible school had always been her strong point, and Pastor Jackson was happy to let her take charge in that department.

Martha knew it was naive to put all her hopes and dreams into a new city, but she couldn’t help but feel she’d really arrived at the destination she was always meant for. Dallas was the place where her life could properly start.

Chapter Two

“Didn’t see you round the saloon last night,” Elroy said to Jesse as he strolled into camp. 

“Sometimes a man needs more than the company of other men,” Jesse retorted, stirring a rumble of congratulations from the rest of the men. No one asked for more details, which was lucky for Jesse. The excuse was nothing more than a lie. In truth, Jesse didn’t have the strength for yet another night spent looking down the bottom of a whiskey glass with the Blackwater boys.

He’d only been in town for a week and didn’t know anyone except the outlaws he was trying to ingratiate himself with, so if anyone had asked about what woman he’d spent the night with, he’d have to make someone up pretty quickly. 

Jesse didn’t have time for friends anyway. He had his father’s name to defend, and if that was to be accomplished, he needed to stay focused.

“I heard Amos wanted a word with me,” Jesse said to the small group of outlaws crouched around the fire. Behind them, the Dallas skyline was visible, but this bunch of men needed to stick to the outskirts to avoid the sheriff’s notice. Of course, nightly exceptions were made for outings to the saloon, where connections were forged with other lawless grifters, and painful memories of evil deeds done were hidden behind the fog of alcohol. 

“Amos wants a word with you?” Elroy, the second in command of the Blackwater gang, replied. The other men shared an “ooh.” Though they had no reason to be in direct competition with each other, Jesse could tell that his presence around the Blackwater camp frustrated Elroy. He obviously fancied himself the heir to the Blackwater throne, but that wasn’t something Jesse wanted to fight over. 

Criminal domination wasn’t Jesse’s goal with working his way into the good graces of the outlaws. He had something else in mind entirely… but his new “friends” didn’t need to know that. 

“The big man’s in his tent. It’s a bit early for him, but… if you say he wanted to see you, who are we to disagree?” Wyatt, one of the other men said. He pointed over to the biggest tent, surrounded by smaller tents and bedrolls where the other men slept. 

“You going to pledge yourself to the big man? Join our ranks of debaucherous, money-making glory?” Benny added. Apart from Elroy, Jesse really had done a great job of befriending the Blackwater gang. They considered him a brother and his place amongst them was all but confirmed. 

“Wish me luck!” Jesse replied in earnest. He needed all the luck he could get. Amos was a smart man. If he saw through Jesse’s front for a second or even caught a whiff of his real intentions, his bones would be bleaching in the sun by noon the next day. Hopefully, Amos carried none of the suspicions Elroy did, and he would only see a man hoping to study under his lawless tutorage. 

Jesse approached the tent in question, wondering how to knock on canvas. Luckily, the front flaps were open, and he could see the infamous Amos Blackwater poring over what looked like a map. He was a big man, about a head taller than Jesse who was already just over six feet. Amos’ massively wide shoulders were the most intimidating part of him, besides the beady blackness of his eyes. Twenty-two-year-old Jesse was in his prime, but that didn’t stop him from being a little intimidated by Amos. 

Maybe, it was that he knew just what inhuman crimes Amos was capable of committing that drove Jesse’s heart to race with nerves every time he saw the man.

“Ah, Jesse. Yes, I was hoping you’d come by. I’d offer you some coffee, but…” Amos looked into his mug before turning it over to the ground, proving its emptiness.

“That’s alright. Already had some today.” 

“Come in, come in. Pull up a stump,” Amos directed, waving Jesse into the small tent. Doing as he was told, Jesse moved a small log up to the other side of Amos’ makeshift table. The Blackwater leader quickly folded up the map of whatever he was looking at before Jesse could get a clear view. 

“I hear the boys have taken quite a shining to you. Legend has it you’ve been taking the spotlight at the saloon ever since we strolled into town. I have to say, I like what I’ve been hearing about you so far,” Amos admitted, leaning back to cross his arms.

“Yes, we’ve all been getting along so far,” Jesse replied with a chuckle. Truthfully, spending night after night loudly boasting about the fortune he was going to make and how capable he was with a pistol was beyond exhausting. If the white lies earned him the keys to the Blackwater gang, then it would all be worth it. 

“How long have you been here in Dallas?”

“Not long,” Jesse confessed. “I might have… I might have heard that you were coming. After hearing stories about all the fine… work that you do, I knew I had to do whatever I could to meet you. To learn from the best.”

Amos raised his bushy eyebrows. “Is that so? Well, you’ve caught my attention. So, you don’t have any family around these parts?”

“Nope,” Jesse lied. His mother lived just outside of Dallas, in a small town called Cedar Pines, but outlaw gangs always preferred new recruits to have no ties. Besides, if Amos found out who Jesse’s real father was, he’d shoot him on the spot. 

“Interesting… very interesting. Now see, I normally wouldn’t want to involve new people without taking more time to get to know them… but I have a good feeling about you, Jesse. You remind me of myself when I was younger. Hungry, scrappy, and smart.”

“Thank you, that’s… well, that’s quite the compliment,” Jesse replied with what he hoped was enough deference. 

“It is. But it’s true. With that in mind, I was wondering if you’d be interested in getting involved with our latest… venture.”

Jesse’s heart humped with excitement before guilt plunged it back down into his stomach. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. For months now, he’d been researching the Blackwater gang and trying to find ways to get closer to them, but now that it had actually happened, reality struck hard. 

Up until then, he hadn’t had to hurt anyone or even break a single law. All he’d been doing was making up stories in saloons and trying to befriend the outlaws he hoped to enact his revenge on eventually. If he had committed a crime, it was a victimless one. Once he shook Amos’ hand, however, all that could change.

Keeping Amos Blackwater and the other gang members convinced that he was faithful to their cause might require proof in action. Steal for the outlaws, harass other townsfolk, or even… kill on behalf of the Blackwater gang.

Did the ends really justify the means if it included such collateral damage? Jesse anxiously put his hands in his pockets, grazing against the pivotal page he’d pulled from his father’s diary the night before. The words echoed in his mind. 

 

July 7th, 1874

They’ve taken everything from me. I just got word that I’m wanted in court tomorrow. It’s true what they say. No good deed goes unpunished. All I wanted to do was rid our town of this evil that’s been haunting us, but I should have known better.

Sheriff Donner has been working with the Blackwater gang from the beginning. That information I gave him, everything I’d learned about their plans to ambush the train line, fell on their ally’s ears. It doesn’t matter what I do now. I’m doomed. 

Mark my words, Donner won’t let me walk free for another day, knowing what I know about him. He’ll twist my words in front of the judge, and make all the Blackwater outlaws pretend I was one of their gang. They might even make me out to be the leader. 

There’s nothing I can say to save myself. The worst part is that I’m leaving behind a wife and son who don’t deserve this. Jesse will grow up without a real father. He’ll have no one to guide him or tell him when he’s on the wrong path. He might even end up joining one of these outlaw gangs.

If you ever read this, Jesse, heed these words: stay away from the Blackwater boys. Forget any of this happened, and start a stable life for yourself. Take up the farm, keep your nose clean, look after your mother, and leave vengeance to the Lord. The Blackwater gang has taken enough from us.

Then again… if you ever see the whites of Amos Blackwater’s eyes… I wouldn’t blame you for shooting him right between his beady blinkers. 

 

Jesse’s father never went to jail. He was killed the very night of that diary entry. Murdered by Amos and Sheriff Donner, out of fear that Jesse’s father would spread word of their corruption. 

“Jesse? Did you hear what I said? This next idea we’re working on… pure gold, I’m telling you,” Amos said with a wink. 

Jesse’s stomach turned. He thought of the words in his father’s diary, all at once urging him to keep his nose clean while suggesting that he kill Amos. His right hand traveled to the pistol on his hip as he seriously considered making one shot and being done with it all. 

The memory of his mother, already a mess on her own, held him back. The sweet woman was a wreck. Ever since her husband’s death, she’d been almost incapable of carrying on with daily life. She needed Jesse. If he did something stupid and reckless, then Jesse wouldn’t make it back to Cedar Pines in one piece. If he stuck to the plan and delivered the Blackwater gang on a platter to local law enforcement, then he could get back to his mother and they could move on with their lives. 

Forcing himself to smile, Jesse put out his hand. 

“Pure gold? Who am I to resist?” 

Amos let out a chuckle as he shook Jesse’s outstretched hand. “You’re a wise man to accept, Jesse. We’re all going to be very rich men when this is all said and done.” 

“What do I need to know?” Jesse asked, swallowing down the residual guilt lingering on his tongue. It was done now. 

“Don’t tell any of the other men what I’m about to share with you. It’s not that I don’t trust them, but the fewer people who know all the details, the better. Besides, from what I’ve heard, you’re a very accomplished thief, so I’d appreciate any advice you might have,” Amos replied, pulling out the map once more.

It amused Jesse slightly to think that even though he was new to the Blackwater gang, he was still a more trusted member than Elroy was. If Elroy got wind of his privileged position, he definitely wouldn’t be pleased by the news. 

“Happy to give you my thoughts.” Jesse hoped he hadn’t oversold his abilities too much during his nightly boasting at the saloon. 

“Well, the idea is that we take out the bank. In just a few weeks, a large deposit is expected to arrive from a visiting rail baron. Normally, I might suggest intercepting the deposit, but I think it might be wiser to go straight to the bank instead. Make them think they can relax once the money’s safely in a vault,” Amos explained. 

“Sounds like a good idea to me.” Jesse wasn’t really sure what he was talking about, but Amos liked to be agreed with more than he wanted actual advice. He just had to nod, do what he was told, throw Amos the occasional compliment, and time would take care of the rest. Or so he hoped. 

“Perfect. Now, here’s where you fit in.”

“I’m all ears,” Jesse replied, his heart pounding. He told himself that there was still time to run away. If he didn’t like what Amos was suggesting, or couldn’t see how it would directly benefit his end goal, then he could always split town and drop the whole endeavor. 

It was all nonsense, of course. Nothing was going to stop Jesse now that he’d started. He’d clear his father’s name once and for all, even if was the last thing he ever did.

“I think it would be best if you didn’t stay with us here at camp. The benefit to your anonymity at the moment is that no one in Dallas knows you. There are already rumors swirling around about the Blackwater gang being in town. If any of us are seen hovering around the bank, one of the deputies will be after us in no time.”

“Alright,” Jesse said, thinking everything through carefully. “I can keep my room at the boarding house while all this… plays out.”

“It’s up to you, of course. That’s one option. I have heard that the blacksmith shop on this side of town is looking for help. The one by that small church, St. Jude’s. If it appeared to everyone else like you were really setting down roots, then it would only help our cause. The less attention there is on our comings and goings, the better.” 

“You want me to… to work for the blacksmith?” Jesse asked, more than a little confused.

“That’s part of it. Work for the blacksmith, scope out the bank. See who comes and who goes. Work out some kind of predictable schedule for us to follow.”

“I’ve never done any smithing. I’m not sure they’ll want to hire me on,” Jesse admitted. He wished he could oblige. The tasks that Amos was outlining were far more harmless than he’d been expecting. Walking straight into the blacksmith shop and asking for a job seemed like setting himself up for failure, however.

Amos waved his hand dismissively in front of Jesse’s face. “No one here cares. The town’s booming, I’m sure the blacksmith just needs help. It’s a dying profession in towns like this. No one wants to learn a skill that’s going to be replaced by factories in the next five years anyway. The blacksmith will be happy to have you, even if you grew up on a farm.”

“Alright, then. I suppose I have a new career ahead of me. More than one, if all goes well.”

Amos laughed. “That’s the spirit. Just do whatever you have to do to avoid suspicion. I don’t think anyone will suspect a hardworking blacksmith of robbing a bank, wouldn’t you agree?” 

“We’ll find out!” 

Amos reached across the small table and dug his fingernails into Jesse’s shoulders in what was obviously intended to be a friendly gesture. Jesse wasn’t sure whether Amos knew how intimidating he was or not. 

He did bring up a subject that Jesse hadn’t entirely thought through. If the Blackwater gang was caught before the robbery, and the sheriff thought Jesse was one of them, what could he say to protest his innocence? He’d done so much work to appear like one of them, but it could backfire if he was caught at the wrong moment. 

Amos abruptly decided he was hungry, and the meeting was called to a close, but not before he reminded Jesse to clean himself up. For all intents and purposes, Jesse was trying to look like an outlaw, but if he wanted to avoid detection, then he’d have to shave and try to wash at least half the stains out of his clothes. 

“Fellows, let’s give a warm welcome to our newest member. Jesse here will be our connection to the outside world. He’ll keep an eye on the bank. Probably best if we all give Jesse a wide berth in town. We don’t want the locals thinking he’s grimy enough to be one of ours, now do we?” Amos said, sharing the good news with the rest of the boys around the fire. 

Everyone except Elroy came up to congratulate Jesse, welcoming him to their shady ranks. He had to admit that he’d likely be friends with half of them under normal circumstances, which only made him feel slightly guilty for trying to get them all arrested. Maybe they were good men forced into a criminal life through circumstances outside their control, but just because they could tell a decent joke didn’t mean they couldn’t hurt people. Anyone who aligned themselves with Amos Blackwater deserved a hefty wake-up call. 

Jesse caught Elroy glaring at him through the small crowd. Petty jealousy, most likely, but Jesse made a mental note to watch out for him. If anyone caught on to Jesse’s plan before he was able to put it into action, it could only spell disaster. 

On the walk back into town from the camp, Jesse decided to pass by the blacksmith shop Amos had told him about. He had no intention of asking for a job in his current condition. He needed a good lather before that happened. Still, it was nice to get a lay of the land. 

The shop itself seemed quaint, nestled in a quiet area while industry boomed in every direction. In the distance, he could hear the screeching of the train station, but it was hardly audible over the whistling of the birds. A sign above the door read “Doc’s Blacksmith Shop” painted in a lively blue. Over top, Jesse caught sight of St. Jude’s church steeple, and something drew him toward it. He had nowhere in particular to be, anyway. 

Faith wasn’t a big part of Jesse’s life. After everything that had happened with his father, he couldn’t help but think the Lord had abandoned him. In his mother’s downward spiral, she’d stopped going to church, and Jesse had followed suit. 

There was still something he found beautiful and peaceful about a churchyard, however, and St. Jude’s did not disappoint. The stone church had very fine stained-glass windows, and the open gate almost made Jesse want to step inside. It all made for a very inviting tableau, almost as if it felt like home, though he’d never lived anywhere that looked so inviting. 

Walking past the church, he saw that there was a small but pretty garden growing in plots just next to the wall beside the small cemetery. A young woman was digging out weeds ferociously, thrusting a trowel in to get out the tough roots of the dandelions. She was wearing a brightly colored blue dress that just about matched the sign out front of the blacksmith shop like they’d planned it or something. Even with an apron on, there was no way that dress was staying clean.

Though he wasn’t anywhere close to her, when she turned his way, the sight of her clear green eyes took him aback. Shining, chestnut locks poked out from behind her bonnet. She was stunning. Quite possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his whole life. 

When she waved at him, Jesse thought his heart might jump out of his chest. Without thinking, he backed away from the church and kept walking toward the boarding house where he had a meager room booked for the next week. 

He didn’t dare look back at the woman. His appearance was fit for outlaws who’d been camping out for weeks, but not ladies attempting to garden in fine dresses. She must have been a charitable sort of woman who wanted to take pity on him and thought he looked like he could use a warm meal. 

Once the shock had worn off, Jesse laughed at himself. He’d been focused on clearing his father’s name and seeking revenge for years now. He’d pushed away any thoughts of pretty girls and dreams of the future in favor of hard work and research. If he had to picture a version of life without the Blackwaters, however, that woman by the church was exactly the type he could see himself marrying. 

If she’d have him, of course. 

Jesse laughed at himself again. He’d come this far without any distractions, and he couldn’t afford to take his eyes off the prize now. A little daydreaming might not have seemed dangerous to anyone else, but Jesse was so close to getting what he wanted, he didn’t want to risk thinking about anything else at all. 

Pretty churches and pretty girls would have to wait. For now, Jesse was focused on pretending to be a blacksmith, learning everything he could about the local bank, and earning Amos’ trust.

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“A Stolen Heart in Dallas” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

Martha Jackson’s journey to Dallas marks the beginning of a new chapter in her life. Leaving behind the bustling streets of Chicago, her family arrives in Dallas after her father has been offered the position of minister. Martha’s unwavering faith and optimism drive her to bring God’s message to the townsfolk, but little does she know that destiny has a captivating encounter waiting for her in the heart of the town. That’s where her path will cross with Jesse, a tormented soul seeking redemption…

Will this distant and mysterious man interrupt her sacred mission?

Jesse Colton’s life has been marred by tragedy from a young age. Losing his father left a deep scar in his heart, fueling his relentless desire for revenge against the notorious Blackwater Gang. Infiltrating the gang as part of his plan takes him away from the peace and serenity he hoped to find through vengeance. Despite his resolve, the memories of his father and the burden of his mission weigh heavily on his conscience. Martha’s kindness and innocence though begin to slowly break down the walls around Jesse’s heart…

Will he ever be liberated from his hunt for revenge?

Martha’s innocence and faith clash with Jesse’s tumultuous journey, but soon their destinies intertwine, and a connection blossoms. Martha’s compassion becomes a guiding light in Jesse’s life, offering him hope of redemption. Will their love shine through, despite the darkness that surrounds them? Will the threats and challenges tear them apart, or will their love become the source of strength that guides them toward a brighter future?

“A Stolen Heart in Dallas” is a historical western romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

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