Dark After Dawn

By Tara Hill

Stone Granger needs to save his spread after devastating winter storms decimated his herd of cattle. Beautiful and vulnerable Mia and her mother, Elena, arrive at the ranch seeking safety and solace but their past still haunts them. In the lush, beautiful hills of Austin in 1890, amid greed and the rapidly changing world, Stone and Mia discover a passion that neither thought was possible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tara Hill
• Release date: Jun 20, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452315188

Tara Hill

Hi Everyone,We are excited to have published our third book.Sisters, we both live and work in Southern California with kids (in college now). Both our lives are busy with family, hobbies (other than writing) and too many animals to count. We are busy writing our next two books and we are really having fun getting to know these new people. Can't wait for you to meet them, too!Please visit our website.Our next book is about Piper's twin sister Pantha. She;s trouble, over confident, too smart, too pretty, and not too careful. She finds that being a witch has consequences.We are glad you stopped by our page!~ Tara and Hill!

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1Dark After Dawn

by

Tara Hill

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright 2010 by Terrell Riley

Published by Terrell Riley at Smashwords. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. copyright act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover Art and Design by Laura Gordon (www.bookcovermachine.wordpress.com)

Cover Model © Olena Pantiuckh / Fotolia.com

Cover Waterfall © Paula Fisher / Fotolia.com

Discover other titles by Tara Hill at Smashwords.com

Dark After Dawn

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 1

1890

Blazing sun heated the train coach to temperatures usually reserved for a rack of lamb. MIA fanned the ticket across her face again and offered up sympathy for her hypothetical meal. She carried the metaphor further, attempting to liken her current situation, to that of the lamb led to slaughter. However, slaughter was not where she headed. Mia and her mother headed for safety and sanctuary. At least that had been the story spun for her by her mother. Mia contemplated their reality. They ran to a train to take them to a place they didn’t belong, to a family they didn’t know, and away from the nightmare that wouldn’t end.

The train was airless, the muggy heat oppressive. She hoped the sunset brought coolness and the anonymity of night. Her mother sat next to her in the aisle seat, but it still didn’t protect her from the stares of the passengers. The train stopped incessantly at every town, letting travelers on and off, who stared at her as they walked past.

Her face bloomed with a bruise that no cosmetics could conceal despite her mother’s considerable talent with stage make-up. Her high-necked blue and red pinstriped travel dress hid the rest of the bruises. She rubbed her sore neck again and sighed.

The train stopped in Longview. The conductor came into their compartment and announced that they had several hours to walk around and eat a meal while the train changed tracks and refueled. He added that they were on time, and that the layover was just part of the itinerary. They would also await the new passengers making their way to Southern Texas. Mia wondered who was collecting kickbacks for the obvious benefit to the town.

Despite her cynicism, she was grateful to stretch her legs, feel the breeze, and admire the busy booming town. Mia made her way to the door and held out her hand to the conductor who graciously helped her off the train onto the clean wood platform. The two women followed the crowd to the hotel. Despite the overwhelming self-consciousness of her black and blue cheek, she enjoyed dinner with her fellow travelers, listened to a traveling musician who had some right funny jokes. Several hours later, she and her mother ambled back to the station to catch the train to Austin. The conductor welcomed each passenger back onto the train and they were on their way.

Mia honey, her mother whispered, Try to get some sleep. We’ll be there in the morning.

‘There’ was an arid town far from the lush Mississippi valley that Mia knew and loved. ‘There’ was a cattle ranch west of Austin, Texas full of smelly men, filthy cows, flies that bite, wild horses, and more things to dread than Mia could count. She dutifully closed her eyes and drifted into sleep. The nightmare started immediately and she jerked herself awake. She did not want those thoughts coursing through her head. She closed her eyes again and thought about the cool dark air that surrounded them. She loved the night. On the river, the setting sun signaled the beginning of the evening’s adventures; new smells, new tastes, and new sounds. She and her friends would dive off the River Queen and swim. They would find hiding places among the crates being shipped north or south, or they would spy on the crew to learn who was kissing whom and who might give a splendid nickel, for her silence. However, the dark also brought back memories of fire, of loss and of Craft. She did not want to think of Craft.

Mia, sleepless, spent the night staring out at the stars bright in the cloudless sky. Her mother slept soundly in her seat, her head lolling up and down with the motion of the train. Mia guided her mother’s head to rest upon her shoulder and stroked her hair until her soft snores started again, signally that she was deep asleep. Mia leaned against the window and closed her eyes to drift in and out of sleep.

The train continued to stop at each and every town with a horse or cow in residence. At dawn, Mia watched the sky bloom to a subtle rosy pink. Few clouds drifted by waiting for the sun to warm them. For one fleeting instant, the sky flashed gold and the sun filled their compartment causing everybody to grumble awake and yank down their shades. It was doubtful that the shades would provide any relief from the Texas heat.

By the time the train had stopped, the heat was pounding on the windows, and no breeze refreshed the cabin of a backwater train going to Nowhere, Texas. Mia’s attitude and patience for the endless train ride had come to an end. She had to get off the stifling train. All the other paying passengers had exited the train in Austin. She flew down the empty aisle to the door and paused for some assistance down the little steps to the platform. The conductor was nowhere to be seen and the platform was clearly empty.

Mother, are you sure this is West Sheep Knee?

Honey, surely that is the way to make yourself full of misery. It's West Shipley. Her mother corrected her.

The town, what Mia could see from the train stop, still slept an hour after daybreak. No wind rustled the leaves in the trees along the creek bed, no dogs barked a welcome to the train and its travelers, and no carriage was waiting. Finally, a light breeze blew across her hot neck. Dust swirled at her feet. Elena straightened her dress, picked up two of the lighter cases and started down the wooden boardwalk to see if a carriage awaited them on the other side of the small train building. Mia gulped as the train pulled away and left them alone in a town where they didn’t know a single soul.

Mother, Mia called after her mother, Wait for Mr. Granger, although, it doesn’t seem he is over eager to greet us.

Looking back over her shoulder, Elena shouted back, Now child, he’ll be here with his fanciest carriage and his well-trained staff to escort us to our fine new home.

Ever a dreamer, Mother, some things never change. This is West Sheep Knee, Texas where we can hide forever because no one with any education, manners, or class will ever enter this town.

Stone Granger waited on the old creaking platform in the morning Texas sun for the woman and her daughter. Once the train rumbled away, he opened his eyes to watch the two women struggling with their luggage. He was leaning against the paltry shaded building, resting his boot-clad foot on the wall behind him, with his hat tipped low over his eyes.

Those are pretty harsh words for a guest, miss.

Mia whirled around dropping her hatbox to look up into the bluest set of eyes. They reminded her of the sky on a rare cool summer day and at that moment, they were not friendly. She measured his height as at least six feet tall with an extra inch or so added from his well-worn boots. Mia studied him from those sturdy boots, up those long legs to his slim waste, strapping shoulders all the way to the tips of his golden-tipped brown hair, floating across his neck in the breeze. He removed his hat, held it in one hand, and looked right back at her. He was so handsome she forgot to take her next breath; she was rattled.

She wondered why he was staring. His irate scowl bespoke his impatience. In fact, he looked at her the same way he would size up an old sow, for all the warmth and friendliness he radiated. Dismissing her, he strode after Elena and snatched the small cases from her hands. He strode down the platform fully expecting them to follow. It was a long stride, full of purpose or maybe disgust. Mia, flushed with anger, picked disgust, and decided she did not care overmuch for him or his stride. He did not resemble any cowpoke she could have imagined. She decided she would stay far away from him. Men should not be trusted.

I beg your pardon, please return my mother’s cases, Mia called after him. He never broke stride but turned the corner of the building and was gone from sight.

Mother, do you know him? Is he your Mr. Granger?

Come along, Mia. I’ll take the hatboxes. Can you manage those? Her mother indicated the last two suitcases alone on the abandoned platform and then she strode off after the supposed Mr. Granger, leaving all the cases for Mia to carry.

Mother, you can’t blunder off behind a strange man, Mia shouted as she struggled with the remaining heavy luggage. Hefting a suitcase and hatbox in each hand, Mia followed, cautious and suspicious. She was used to the work; she had done her share of lifting luggage for tips on the river. She gritted her teeth, her veneer of refinement was thin, but she was damn sure that Blue-Eyed-Cowpoke wasn’t going to find that out.

Muttering under her breath as she stomped after them, I can manage a couple of suitcases and a hatbox on a wharf so I shouldn’t have any real trouble on a stationary train platform.

What she couldn’t manage were her new, heeled boots. The heel of her new baby-soft leather boot caught in an old plank, sending the cases flying, and Mia sprawling. The first thing that hit the platform was her pride followed closely by her face. It hurt. Stunned, she lay still for a moment. Nose, not broken, her ankle, the same. As she checked off the list of aching body parts, she started to sit up. She was still reeling from the shock when, Blue-Eyed-Cowpoke, gathered her up and cradled her to his chest. Mia panicked.

Put me down! Get your hands off me, Craft! Mia shrieked and kicked at him. Her left hand broke free and she belted him. Then, she came to her senses; he wasn’t Craft. She immediately felt stupid for panicking, pain radiated from the lump on her forehead and her cheeks burned red from embarrassment. She went quiet in his arms; uncomfortable, vulnerable and weak, she hated all three emotions. Despite her struggle, he didn't drop her. Instead, he unceremoniously dumped her in the back of a flatbed wagon. Their cases landed on either side of her and to cap off her humiliation, he handed her a clean cloth, pointing to his own cheek to indicate where the dirt resided on her face. She used the cloth to surreptitiously wipe at her tears and curse the day she agreed to get on that train with her mother.

Sorry, Misses, us hicks here in West Sheep Knee don’t rightly know how to help a young lady who is laying all aheap in the dirt, he drawled sarcastically.

I apologize for my unseemly words. I’m hurt, Mia pouted as she dabbed at the trickle of blood. She knew she looked frightful but she didn’t care. His opinion of her was of no consequence. He placed the last hatbox next to her.

You liked to kick the living shit out of me, miss. You pack a mighty wallop. For the first time that morning, a smile started to creep into his blue eyes. He looked down at the little spitfire. She was trouble in more than one way.

I’m sorry but you startled me. No, she quickly corrected herself, I was just startled. My dignity is a bit tattered but I will survive. You may help me down now. Mia scooted to the edge and lifted her hand in a silent bid for his assistance. His smiled dimmed. He reached behind her and lifted her hair away from her neck. Mia flinched, knowing what he was seeing.

He glowered, What are those marks?

She batted his hand away, instinctively covering the rope burns on her neck and shivered at the recollection of how she got them. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the grim thoughts aside. She was tired of them and tired of the nonstop repetition of her memories. She wanted to be someone different here, not a victim, not poor Mia.

You ask impertinent questions. Help me down, Mia tested her imperious voice. It obviously had no power over him. He turned away, muttering. Elena walked over and helped her daughter from the wagon.

That went well, Elena whispered for the first time without the southern drawl she usually affected to snare brainless dolts. Mia’s weak smile didn’t match the tears that began to stream down her face.

My face hurts, I’m dirty, and I’m scared, mother. How long do we have to stay here?

Mia, hush now. It will be all right, you’ll see, it really will. We’re safe here, now and for always. They walked toward the carriage; Elena helped her up and settled her in. The carriage was an old stagecoach painted bright barn-red emblazoned with a large rendition of the Granger brand, a Celtic trinity with a G in the center of the door. It was roomy inside with just the two women as passengers. The leather seats were old and faded but not cracked. Blue-Eyed-Cowpoke climbed on top and took the reins. An ancient cowhand followed in the wagon loaded with everything they owned in the world.

Mia rested her head on her mother’s shoulder; her lilac fragrance swathed her in comfort, transporting her back to the dark safe place of her childhood.

You hardly slept last night. Close your eyes, honey, and rest. Elena stroked Mia’s hair until she slept. In West Shipley, their world had become smaller and Elena hoped, safer. At least they were far away from the Mississippi River and Leonard Craft. The man still haunted Mia’s dreams.

Chapter 2

1887

Leonard Craft entered Mia’s life on a typical hot, sultry day. At sixteen, she had worked in most aspects of the little riverboat operation. She hadn’t yet talked Paddy into allowing her to work the helm. He always muttered something about sandbars. As the boat floated from New Orleans to St. Louis and back again, Mia sewed costumes, washed their clothes, and dressed her mother’s hair. She often played the piano for rehearsals and when needed, she worked the wharf as a greeter and porter, while Louis shopped the markets for Cook.

Mia loved life on the little River Queen. A tough old couple, together since the dawn of time, ran the company. Paddy and Emma Kirkpatrick finished each other’s sentences and instinctively knew what the other was thinking even when they were in different rooms. Paddy handled the tickets, the money, and the routines. Emma handled the employees, schedules, food, and Elena. Mia had few chores and used her time to explore the various ports, read every book in the small town libraries, made friends along the river, and had the devil’s own luck at fishing.

Working with her mother, she stopped to wipe the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. The River Queen drifted against the dock along the banks of the Mississippi in St. Louis. The trees on the levee dipped their branches toward the still and silent river creating pockets of shade; deceiving one into thinking, they offered a cool escape. On countless other afternoons, Mia invited her local friends aboard to dive off the boat, or to swim the shallows to search for tadpoles or buried pirate treasure, but not this day. On this still, hot day, she paused from her work and looked not to the levee but far across the mile wide expanse imagining how life might be different away from the river. The river was an amazing place to live, swarming with steamboats, gamblers, traders, excited pioneers moving west, tired homesteaders moving east. The docks buzzed with energy and frantic activity; most boats couldn’t go much farther north, so thousands of people came to the booming city of St. Louis to move the goods and produce from the boats to the newly built trains. More had immigrated to work in foundries, cotton mills, and breweries. It was a modern and amazing city that Mia felt connected to and loved to explore while the River Queen was in port. She couldn’t imagine a life anchored to one place forever. She wondered how she would convince Paddy that a girl could be a river captain.

Craft boarded the boat that Sunday afternoon. Mia and her mother used their day off to relax, sew, and read. The sun beat down on the water; no breeze relieved the oppressive heat. Elena was marking up sheet music with some planned patter between her and Mick, the piano player, for their next show. She was sitting on the upper deck in a patch of shade while Mia pinned the damp laundry to the small line. Elena started singing as she made another mark on the music. Mia smiled as her mother’s lovely voice wrapped around them.

Sounds like old Paddy kept you around after all, a voice intruded.

Mister, I don’t know who you think you are, Mia started. Elena hushed her with a wave of her hand.

Mr. Craft, this is a private area and you were not invited, nor are you welcome. Come along Mia. With a flair for a dramatic exit, and a graceful swish of her skirts, Elena was gone.

Mia stood on the deck with their dripping laundry, the stranger blocking her only exit. He turned his attention to Mia, offering her a smile. Tall, with oily black hair and a long thin nose, he had the darkest eyes Mia had ever seen. Rudely, he stared at their laundry. Mia, embarrassed at her under things being on display, yanked them off the line, and dropped them in the basket with the other wet clothes. He enjoyed her discomfort. She picked up the basket and turned to follow her mother. His hand clamped around her arm.

It appears your mother remembers me; why don’t you?

Sir, you’re hurting me. Let me go and leave. Mia demanded. She tried to wrench her arm free; his hot breath against her neck made her cringe.

Listen carefully, Mia darling, your mother owes me, and you will help me get what I want. First, you’ll help me get reacquainted with my friend Elena. She needs to be reminded how much she owes me. Tell your mother that I’ll come to tea later this afternoon. I wish to discuss a business proposition. You see to it that she will see me and that she is in a good mood or I’ll hold you accountable.

Mia yanked her arm away from him. She kicked at his leg as she walked by but it had no effect.

I’ll do no such thing. You can leap off this boat for all I care and you stay away from my mother.

You’ll do as I suggest, little girl, or I’ll explain to the Kirkpatricks what really happened in Memphis, he threatened. He turned and walked away.

Mia stood sputtering after him. She was confused. Who was he and how could he possibly know what happened in Memphis? For that matter, did she even know what happened in Memphis?

Several years ago, Mia and her mother had left a party in Memphis hidden in the bottom of a delivery wagon. Her mother never explained the events of that night nor the reason for their furtive exit. The whole incident had faded from Mia’s memory with the excitement of learning to live on the River Queen.

Mia sat down in her mother’s vacated chair in the shade. They had traveled up and down the river several times since joining the crew. Mia, always busy with chores on the days they stopped in Memphis, was not allowed off the boat. Her mother answered her whiny request to explore Memphis with ‘another time dear’. In St. Louis, where they stayed a week at a time, Louis or Paddy Kirkpatrick always escorted Mia. Her mother never explored the city with her.

These new thoughts gave her both pause and enlightenment. She was a young woman and she needed to think about life with her mother away from the river. She worried about how she would care for the two of them once her mother could no longer sing. It was the first time she thought of herself in the caretaker’s role rather than the daughter’s role. Justifiably, she thought about how she needed to protect her mother from the likes of Mr. Craft. Before she could begin, she first needed to understand who he was and why he had entered their lives.

Mia cornered her mother in her small cabin. Pink and green striped wallpaper provided a calming haven away from the hustle and bustle below. A white crocheted spread covered the small bed. The only clutter in the room was on the dressing table, covered with stage makeup, perfume, and jewelry. A small cherry wardrobe was crammed full of clothes and costumes. The smell of talc and her ever-present lilac was stifling in the heat. Open your window, Mama, before we suffocate.

Mia, we need to talk and I don’t want the Kirkpatrick’s listening. Her mother reached