Wind Across the Prairie

By A. E. Easterlin

After her husband is killed by a shot in the back, Hannah Parsons struggles to keep her ranch viable despite an anonymous campaign against her. With fences cut, cattle rustled, and ranch hands deserting, she still tries to make a go of it.
Colton Rawlins, a friend from years before, learns of her trouble and rides to help. He finds the beautiful widow under attack, and he stands firm in his support of her, despite her resistance to his plan.
As Colt and Hannah uncover long-buried secrets, she must avoid falling prey to the evil surrounding her, but how can she allow her life to be changed forever by the man who appeared with the prairie wind?

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Nov 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9781509228263

A. E. Easterlin

South Florida author, Elayne Cox, writing as A.E. Easterlin, loves spending time at her computer putting down in black and white stories of heroes and heroines, living and loving and learning in the process. An interest in music and performing led her to majoring in vocal performance at Alabama College and Music Education at UAB. Married 49 years to her husband, Clyde, they have three children and two grand-children, as well as three grand-dogs. While rearing a family, Elayne and her husband work at their family business which they have owned since 1986. Writing has always been a secret passion until published in 2015, with her debut novel, "Sonata by Moonlight," first in her Heroes and Half-notes series. The second novel in the series, "A Little Night Music," will be released in 2016. A historical western, "A Necessary Woman," is also due out this year. Her books deal with universal conflicts, experienced by exceptional characters, and always with a happy conclusion. Traveling is another passion Elayne loves to indulge, having visited the enchanting capitols of Europe and Canada, as well as motor-coaching throughout the USA in search of story lines and real people to inspire her creativity. She's an active member of Romance Writer's of America as well as the local chapter, Florida Romance Writers, and is busy refining her craft and offering the reading public " a taste of love, a touch of heat, and a story that captivates the heart."

Book preview

Inc.

I’m coming with you. Hannah stepped toward the door.

Colt jerked his head toward her. You’re staying here. If anyone comes near, shoot first and ask questions later.

My ranch, my responsibility. She jutted out her chin.

You are by far the most stubborn woman I’ve ever known. When I say stay, I mean stay. You’re dressed like a man; those hooligans out there won’t know you’re a woman.

I’m a good shot.

Hannah. The way he said her name brooked no further protest.

All right. But be careful.

Darlin’, I’m always careful. Get behind those crates and keep your head down.

She and Gus crouched behind the wooden boxes, she with her rifle resting on top and Gus with his six-shooter at the ready.

As the men left and scurried for cover, the minutes ticked slowly by. Nothing happened for the longest time, and Hannah glanced at Gus.

Can you see anything? Tension clutched at her throat.

Nah. Not from here. You stay put. I’ll try and see what I can through the window. Gus crawled along the floor and flattened himself against the wall. He peeked through the corner of the open window. Your boys are in position. Can’t see the intruders.

Then all hell broke loose.

Praise for A. E. Easterlin and…

SONATA BY MOONLIGHT (her debut novel):

The book was fabulous. Didn't want it to end.

~Julia (4 Stars)

Couldn't put it down.

~Poppy (5 Stars)

A LITTLE NIGHT MUSIC:

Four stars.

~Alyssa Maxwell, award-winning author

Four stars.

~Jeanie

Five stars.

~Peri and Barbara

NEVER SAY NEVER AGAIN:

Four- and five-star reviews

A NECESSARY WOMAN

Something about this book keeps you reading until the end.

~San Francisco Chronicle (4 Stars)

A great western read that really packs a punch.

~Poppy (4 Stars)

Fast paced read with characters that make the reader recognize the pioneer spirit that lives in each of us.

~Unknown

Wind Across

the Prairie

by

A. E. Easterlin

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

Wind Across the Prairie

COPYRIGHT © 2019 by A. E. Easterlin

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Cactus Rose Edition, 2019

Print ISBN 978-1-5092-2825-6

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-2826-3

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my family,

both personal and professional,

and all those who weather the inevitable changes

that blow in with the winds.

To my critique group

of exceptionally talented women—

this one’s for you.

Chapter One

At the top of the hill, shrouded by a stand of aspens with their leaves turning gold, Hannah Parsons knelt at her murdered husband’s grave and mourned. His body rested beneath a tall pile of river rocks with one word carved in a large center stone.

Beloved.

Hannah ran her fingers over the hard, cold surface and shivered. It would stand forever over the decaying body of the man she loved, all that remained of an exceptional man cut down in his prime.

Who could have done this? Who hated her husband enough to shoot him in the back and leave him for dead? Who hated her enough to steal the love of her life and leave her alone and empty?

As she wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, the ground shook with vibrations that crept up to her knees. The unmistakable thunder of horses’ hooves filled the silence. Alarmed, she stood and spun toward the sound. She reached for her rifle. It wasn’t there. Drat! She had left it at the house. Not a smart decision.

A band of riders charged up the hill in a cloud of dust, and she recognized two men once employed by the Double P. The lead rider was unmistakable. A huge black stallion carried him a short distance ahead of the rest.

The man was new in town—her neighbor Robert McCurdy’s latest hire, Seth Bridges, known in the territory as Black Bridges due to his customary black attire, the color of his eyes, and the supposed condition of his heart. He was a gun for hire, with a reputation for violence. What had Robert been thinking when he sent this man to do his bidding? Had he fired the fatal bullet that killed Jared? He could have. It was his stock in trade.

As they drew closer, Hannah adjusted her stance, threw back her shoulders, and angled her head. She refused to show this outlaw a trace of fear.

The horses danced in the dust, eyes wide, chewing their bits as Robert’s men reined them to a stop. The two former Double P cowboys, Jake Scarborough and Red Tyree, refused to meet her gaze.

Ma’am. An arrogant Bridges adjusted in his saddle and rested his gloved hands on the horn. Sorry to interrupt your visit, but the boss sent us to deliver a message. He’d have come himself, but his prize mare is about to foal, and he didn’t want to leave. His gloved hand passed Hannah a folded piece of paper.

How did you know where to find me?

One end of his mouth curled. Sunday morning. Everybody knows you visit your…ah…husband, same time, each week. His tone mocked her weekly pilgrimages.

I see. She stared at the outlaw, her expression stoic, praying he couldn’t see the quaking of her knees through the cover of her skirts. The wind sent stinging tendrils of blonde hair around her face, and she pushed them back as she fought to maintain her demeanor.

I hadn’t thought anyone would be interested in how I spend my Sundays.

One of the men snickered. Bridges’ eyes bored into hers, ran over her body, lingering at breast, waist, and hip. One end of his mouth twitched. It reminded Hannah of the forked tongue of a snake testing its prey before a strike.

The boss makes it his business to look after his neighbors. That includes a recently widowed young woman living on land next to the Bar M. Wouldn’t want the same thing to happen to a lovely woman such as yourself as happened to your husband.

Is that a threat, Mr. Bridges?

No threat, ma’am. His voice slid over her like blackstrap molasses. She had never liked the stuff and cared for this outlaw even less. He thought her weak, and that was a mistake.

His attitude grated, and Hannah took a step closer to the outlaw’s horse. The animal danced on all four hooves, and she put her palm on its neck and calmed it. The horse whinnied and shook its head as it quieted under her steady strokes.

Bridges straightened with a cock of his jaw, glaring at her with cold black eyes.

Hannah smiled, and when she spoke, she did so feigning sweetness.

You may tell Mr. McCurdy he has no reason to fret over my safety. The coward who shot my husband in the back will have a much more difficult time repeating the crime. I’ve been forewarned and will be on my guard. Besides…I’m a pretty good shot and getting better all the time.

Bridges raised a brow. Practicing, are you?

Without a doubt. A girl can’t be too careful, can she?

Another round of snickers from the men, met with her most disdainful look. Red and Jake dropped their heads. Good. They should be ashamed.

Then Hannah joined their laughter as tension streamed through her body. She was terrified of Bridges, but she refused to let him see.

I’ll be sure and spread the word. Right, boys? ‘Don’t mess with the widow Parsons. She’s loaded and ready if anyone makes a wrong move.’

Hannah grinned into the face of evil. Joke if you will, Mr. Bridges. I won’t be caught unawares like my husband.

Like I said, I’ll be sure and spread the word.

He shifted in his saddle, nodding toward the note gripped in her hand. McCurdy is waiting.

Perhaps he should learn some patience. Is it an emergency?

Boss didn’t say.

Then you may tell Mr. McCurdy that I will reply after consideration.

Dismissal didn’t sit well with the gunslinger. His body turned rigid. The men surrounding him stiffened. A burst of prairie wind flattened Hannah’s dress against her body. Bridges leered and wiped his mouth with his big, gloved hand.

You might think you have the upper hand, Mrs. Parsons, but I would advise a wiser approach. McCurdy is not a man to be trifled with…and neither am I. The boss will be waiting to hear from you. Soon.

Bridges whirled his horse and nodded to the rest of his crew. They left in a cloud of dust, just as they’d come, while Hannah pressed her hand against her heart. Drawing her shawl securely over her shoulders, she brushed the dirt from her dress, wishing she could as easily dispose of her problems.

It seems you aren’t the only Parsons to make an enemy of their neighbors. She laid a hand on Jared’s gravestone and headed down the hill.

Even on Sunday there were chores to be done. Taking care of a large working ranch alone was hard; grieving the loss of the man she loved made it harder. At times, facing the future seemed impossible. But what choice did she have? Marry someone she didn’t love to secure a piece of land, a full complement of workers, and a herd of cattle? Give in to the man who, in all likelihood, killed her husband? The thought left her sick inside.

Robert McCurdy was proving to be a problem that wouldn’t disappear. He’d strained the lines of propriety when Jared had been alive. Now that her husband was dead, Robert had been spreading gossip about her regard for him and the possibility of upcoming nuptials.

From everything she’d heard, half the town thought she should end the contention and marry Robert. That would be the male contingent. The women, some of whom would give anything to be in her place and others who could see Hannah’s point of view, thought she should take more time. Jared hadn’t been gone for a year yet, and that group was more sympathetic to her feelings.

She had no doubt Robert desired her; that much was obvious. However, she suspected the primary attraction was the additional acreage that would become his, by law, if they married. The Bar M would double in size, as would Robert’s bottom line.

Hannah wasn’t interested in marriage to anyone. She loved her husband still and had sworn to find the coward who murdered him. Moving forward, accepting another man, building a new life—all those things would have to wait. Someone had shot Jared in the back, and until she brought the killer to justice, there was no way she would consider marriage. Until then, she didn’t trust Wes Dunstan, on the west boundary, or Robert McCurdy, on the east.

Someone wanted what Jared had possessed, and Hannah was in this position due to pure greed. That was what had killed her husband, not the bullet that penetrated his back.

Reaching the covered porch of her home, she climbed the three steps and glanced at the note in her hand. The sight of the flourishes in his handwriting sent a shiver up her spine. Robert was getting tired of waiting, and he was a man rarely denied.

A party, Saturday after next. A special occasion. Please come as guest of honor. Love, Robert.

Three phrases set her stomach roiling: Special occasion. Guest of honor. Love, Robert.

Something was about to happen. She could feel it in the wind. Like the vows she and Jared had exchanged, would it be for better…or worse?

The house was cold and empty, and her insides churned after meeting McCurdy’s men on the hill. A cup of tea would help calm her nerves.

Leaving her muddy boots by the door, she removed her coat and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders.

After the cool wind, her cheeks burned, and she blinked in the dry air.

Putting the kettle on to boil, she stared out the window at the yard and the bunkhouse built at the far end next to the barns. The men would be taking their leisure today, or as much as possible with only three hands remaining to care for the animals. When the others deserted, she’d been left with the best of the lot.

Gus Jagger, fiftyish, grizzled and loyal, took care of the chores around the immediate grounds, the stables and the horses. He’d loved Jared like a son, and when she and Jared had married, the older man transferred that affection to her as well. She couldn’t do without him and returned his affection threefold.

Buck Howard was a man in his thirties and built like an ox. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t do, and he had proved himself a friend as well as a valuable employee many times over. Protective to the extreme, Buck kept a sharp eye not only on their land but also on Hannah. He’d grieved with her when Jared was killed and had become a self-appointed husband in many ways, as far as the property was concerned.

The youngest of her remaining ranch hands was Carl McCall Junior. At nineteen, he contributed unlimited energy, impressive strength, and a secret, massive crush on Hannah. Seven years his senior, she considered him a little brother. He would hate that she thought of him that way, but there was no help for it—she could see him no other way.

The four of them were all that was left to run the Double P. She needed more men but had no idea where she would find them.

Pouring her tea, she relaxed in Jared’s huge leather chair. His scent had once permeated the worn leather, but it was long since faded. She fancied she could still feel him there, though, holding her in his lap, wrapping his big arms around her. He would have sent Black Bridges on his way with more than a cold dismissal. What could Robert have been thinking to hire such a man?

His note was tucked in her skirt pocket, and she pulled it out. It wasn’t like him to send a note. Rather, he was more inclined to appear upon his whim and intrude upon her day. He wanted her to be his special guest at a house party, the Saturday after next. What was he thinking?

Hannah frowned. She hadn’t been to the Bar M or anywhere else since Jared died. A few town friends came by once in a while to check on her and offer their help. It might be nice to be around a few people again.

While her days were filled with work, the lonely nights were getting old. An evening of music and friends would be a pleasure, but she didn’t want to encourage Robert.

Leaning her head against the back of her chair, she let the note fall to the floor. Marrying Robert would solve a lot of problems—or it could create more.

Did Robert McCurdy murder Jared? And was it possible to care for a man you suspected might have had a hand in your husband’s death?

Chapter Two

The closest bar to the stockyards in Denver was the Silver Spur, and Colton Rawlins was in a hurry to get there. He needed a drink, a bath, and a bed. Maybe the softness of a woman—in that order.

Fort Worth to Denver was a long, hot journey, but with the longhorns delivered and cash in his pocket, all he wanted were the creature comforts the trail denied. Especially a hot meal, preferably something without beans on the plate.

Elbowing through the swinging doors, he eyed the horseshoe bar, shouldered a place between two semi-sober drovers, and raised his hand to the barkeep, who slid a cool draught in front of him.

Narrowing his eyes, he gazed through the dim smoke at his fellow drinkers. Dusty cowboys, a few overdressed businessmen, and some brightly dressed women trying their best to entertain the patrons. After a long swallow of beer and a second glance he would pass on the feminine company. Maybe tomorrow.

He nodded to the bartender and drank his second glass in one long gulp. Ah…next best thing to heaven after getting off the back of that horse.

Know where a man can get a bath and a soft bed for the night? he asked to anyone within hearing range.

The man next to him slid him a sideways glance. Behind the barbershop. You can clean up and rent a bed for the night. Ask for Chauncey…tell him Jim said to treat you right.

Thanks. Colton Rawlins is the name. He shook the man’s hand. Friends call me Colt.

Jim gave him the once-over and returned to his whiskey. Rather be your friend than your enemy. Rawlins, did you say? You with the Captain’s boys up from Texas?

That’d be us. Colton grinned and motioned for another beer.

Heard you had a little trouble along the way.