Dare to Dream: The Allister Saga, #1

By Jacqueline M Franklin

Breanna Allister's forever-after fairytale to Luke crumbled within two years of marriage. When he left to live a wastrel lifestyle for months at a time, forward-thinking helped her survive to support her and Luke's sons. And her adopted half-breed son she took in at fifteen when his family was killed in a massacre of his village.

 

Chance Marley loved Breanna since childhood yet let her slip through his fingertips. After twenty-six years of Luke's abuse, can their unrequited love become a reality when she goes against propriety and leaves her husband? Or will impropriety plague her? At what cost might they find love? Do they dare to dream?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jacqueline M Franklin
• Release date: Aug 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393136408

Jacqueline M Franklin

I am an Indie author who loves to tell a story. I've published many books on Amazon, from poetry to contemporary. However, Historical is my favorite genre. I hope my writing makes you laugh, cry, or touches your emotions in some way throughout your journey. If so, then I have proven with love and the instinct to survive against the odds that anything is possible.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

PEAKSVILLE ARIZONA '1881'

"Loyalty to one's creed can push even

the strongest person beyond endurance."

Breanna realized her decision would bring a day of reckoning many years in the making. Albeit, how it would unfold didn't seem to matter. She could no longer continue to live in limbo. Unfulfilled dreams and weariness over the path of her topsy-turvy life had taken their toll, leaving her at loose ends while striving for resolution and peace.

With one last walk through the home she shared with Luke in happier times, Breanna rubbed her hand over the white wainscoting in the kitchen. Cherished memories brought a smile over her uncertainty at the time about painting the upper walls a cheery pale yellow instead of leaving them white. In the end, she chose yellow and never regretted her decision. It served to complement the room with a comfy feeling.

She made the curtains and matching tablecloth speckled with daisies, her favorite flowers. Outlines of objects that used to hang on the walls in the house she had made into a home with love now had no soul. Only shadows of what they used to be.

The kitchen was once a happy place for Zackary and Gabriel in their youth as their mischievous laughter filled the air. A smile of nostalgia caused her to grin while imagining other times when her boys engaged in water fights while washing the dishes. They had been sure she wasn't wise to their tomfoolery while managing to end up with more water on themselves than the dishes. She could almost smell fresh molasses cookies baking, which was her special treat for them when she had kissed a skinned knee or elbow to make it better.

Breanna wiped away tears as she walked upstairs and entered the bedroom she and Luke shared when their love was fresh and new. An oak washstand held a cracked pitcher and bowl. A once beautiful and flawless full-length looking glass now had a crack from a past quarrel many years ago

The dressing screen Luke gave her soon after their marriage stood patched. A hole in the wall bore witness to another of their skirmishes.

Breanna turned to leave but caught her reflection in the looking glass. She was proud to have maintained her slender figure during the twenty-seven years of their tumultuous marriage. Her blonde hair still had a golden hue with sky-blue eyes.

As she walked through the bedroom doorway where unhappy cruelties existed, she let slip a tear. No matter the heartache and desolation in the home now... love once lived within the walls.

≠M≠

Dammit, Luke growled, entering his home. What the hell is going on? He stalked into the sitting room to find bare walls, then spun around on his heel and stomped to the stairs but stopped abruptly.

With a heavy heart, Breanna stood at the top with a knot in her throat. I wasn't expecting you.

That's obvious. What the hell's going on around here?

I wrote you a letter and left it on the kitchen table, she said in an impassive tone. The bedroom is somewhat intact—

Answer my question, Breanna. His face grew red with anger. I don't give a rat's arse about any letter or what you did or didn't leave for me because this is our home, and our home is till stay. What in the hell did you do with our things?

No, it hasn't been our home for many years. Why won't you see it?

He flew up the stairs to stand toe-to-toe. All I see is our home a shambles!"

She raised a palm. Stop, Luke. We can't turn back time.

The hell we can't! And you are not going anywhere! He grabbed her by the upper arm. You better start talking to me right now.

You're hurting me.

He clenched his teeth. Then answer my question.

"Wade and Virginia Marley are allowing me to store heavier furnishings in the barn at the Bar≠M≠Ranch. There is no room—"

The arrangement with the Marley's is not happening. He pointed at her. Put our things back where they belong! Got it?

Her throbbing arm worsened. Please, Luke, don't make this difficult.

His eyes shot darts. You haven't seen difficult yet. But I can show you.

She sighed. There is no purpose for your anger anymore, Luke. Whatever feelings we once held for each other are lost after all the years of battles.

That, my dear, is debatable. He loosened his grip. I don't know what you have up your sleeve, but my wife stays in our home.

She tried to stand stoically but felt angst rise. Yes, I am married to you, but it was your choice to leave for months at a time and enjoy your trollops, so I haven't felt like a wife for many years.

We can rectify the wife part right now and here in this bed. Luke shoved Breanna into the bedroom and then let her go to unbutton his pants. You know what to do, Mrs. Allister, or do I need to refresh your memory?

Don't do this, Luke. Please, let's stop gainsaying each other.

He let out a guttural groan. Make no mistake, Breanna, this is not a challenge. I said unbutton your dress, or I will. Your choice. He patted the bed with his hand. I'll make you feel like my wife.

Tears threatened to fall, but when Luke bent over to step out of his pants, Breanna seized her chance and ran to the stairs.

While he pulled his trousers back up and refastened them, she got as far as the kitchen before he caught up and grabbed her bruised arm. She kicked his shin, then ran to the door. No, Luke! This torment must stop.

Gritting his teeth, he forced her against the doorjamb with his hand around her throat. You're mine.

Please, Luke. I... I can't... b... breathe...

A hand grabbed the nape of Luke's neck, flinging him around to stand face to face with his oldest son with glaring disdain.

While rubbing her throat, Breanna stumbled to a chair at the table and plopped into it.

Giving his father a shove toward the porch steps, then pointed. Don't you ever touch Ma again!

Luke stood in the doorway, then splayed his hand to the barren walls while jutting his chin. "Did you and that half-breed talk your ma into leaving?

Luke, stop it. Leaving is my decision—not Zackary's.

It doesn't matter whose idea it was, Pop. Ma should have left your sorry arse long ago, so hit the road.

Well, you can undo her leaving because your ma isn't going anywhere. Not now. Not ever. So, move outta my way.

Zack scowled. Go home, Ma. I'll be there in a few minutes.

Breanna wrung her hands. Please, Zack... Luke—

Luke's eyes darted back and forth between his wife and son. What do you mean calling somewhere else home?

Ma, get going.

Although worried about what might happen between father and son, she shook her head while hurrying out the door.

You can't order your ma and me around, by dammit! No matter what, I'm still your father.

Right now, I'm the sheriff and not your son. Dammit, you smell like you crawled inside a bottle of rotgut and stayed there for weeks. Clean yourself up, then we can talk rationally later.

Luke charged his son.

Zack stepped sideways to gain the advantage by grabbing his father's arm.

Luke tried to free himself. Let go of me.

Not until you calm down your arse, Pop.

Luke jerked free when Zack loosened his hold. I'll see you later. Whatever is going on, it's not over by a long shot. Luke staggered down the street.

CHAPTER 2

CHANCE MARLEY

"Bitterness, yearnings, and renouncing

life's travesties can scar the soul."

The Trails End Saloon, owned by Rafe Lafferty, remained a respectable establishment. By choice, he ran it as the previous owner, a much-beloved town elder, Ole Ed Burns, and without soiled doves.

However, Peaksville had a town whore for such favors. The well-known, Hot to Trot Pepper, as referred to by many men. Her home had a revolving door for their varied appetites and her talents.

Aside from the long oak bar, it had ten tables with different chairs and could boast two or three tables of poker players on any given day. The saloon's décor, while not fancy, served its patrons well. Just as important was the bar with an ample supply of spirits.

Chance Marley's strapping six-foot frame barely cleared the doorway when he flung the batwing doors open shortly before dusk. His brown hair with slight graying at the temples needed a trim. He thought briefly about stopping for a shave and haircut, but quenching his thirst and a full belly won.

Chance, Rafe said, good to see ya.

Thanks, my friend. I spent two weeks mixing ranch business and some personal time in Phoenix. It's been a long and hot trip home. I'm dry as dirt. I'll have a tall ale with the biggest steak you can muster. Make sure it all but moos off the plate. Then I'm off for home and my bed. He chuckled. Sleeping on the ground and my weary bones. I'm no young buck anymore.

Rafe laughed. I hear ya. Here, this will wet your whistle. He handed Chance his glass of ale. Have a seat at your regular table while I have Charlie rustle up your grub. He will have it ready in no time.

Thanks—

Well, if it isn't the smug and mighty Chance Marley.

Chance rolled his hazel eyes while seeing red when hearing the dreaded voice of Luke Allister staggering into the saloon. He sighed while turning to face his nemesis. I suppose with your chosen lifestyle, Allister, just about anybody would appear holier-than-thou to you.

At least I don't put on airs.

Don't you be starting any trouble tonight, Luke, Rafe ordered.

Stay out... he belched, of this, Rafe.

Dammit, Allister, I don't want any trouble from you tonight. So, whatever burr you got up your arse, I'm not your problem. Let's just go our separate ways.

Not so fast! You stay here until we get something straight.

Don't let the sum-bitch goad ya, Chance, Lester Pander said. Luke is always bruisin' for a fight.

You got it right, Lester. Chance walked toward his table.

Luke followed Chance but bumped into a table before saying, You must be the son-of-a-bitch who talked my wife into moving out of our house.

As much as Chance wanted to clean Luke's clock, this was not the time or place, so he thought better of it and stepped back to avoid any fisticuffs. What in the hell do you mean, Allister?

You know damn well what I'm talking about, Marley. He swayed and belched. It's like you to stick your damn nose in our business.

An exasperated Chance groaned. Look, I just returned from two weeks in Phoenix, so I'm not in your business.

Chance saw Luke's doubled-up fist coming, so he gut-punched Luke, causing his ale to slosh over the rim and onto his shirtfront.

Damn... you... Marley.

Rafe scowled. You deserved it, Luke, so take your sorry arse out of here until you sober up and can be civilized for a change, dammit. So, get along with you.

Hey, I gotta right to protect what's mine, Lafferty.

Dan Chambers grabbed the inebriated Luke by his upper arm and aimed him toward the batwing doors, with Pete Watson helping.

Luke tried to jerk free. Let go of me!

Thanks, fellas, Chance said to them with a grimace. Dammit, I didn't plan on wearing my drink.

Here, Rafe said, tossing a towel, Let me give you a refill.

Thanks. Sorry about the scene.

It's not your fault. Here, this one's on the house.

I'm much obliged to you, Rafe. Chance raised the glass. Cheers, then he walked to his regular table to have a seat.

You haven't heard the last of this, Marley!

Get out, Luke, Dan growled while he and Pete shoved Luke through the door batwing doors.

≠M≠M≠M≠

Sheriff Zack Allister and his blood-brother, half-breed Deputy Lone Walker, spent the night at the Peaksville Jail when needed. The attached small, sparsely furnished room had two bunks at the rear. The only decorative feature in the room was the Afghans their Grandma Barkley had crocheted. An old table, which had seen better days, stood under the window in the room, with a burlap bag serving as a curtain. A crate nailed above the rusted dry sink served as a makeshift shelf.

In the jail's backroom doorway, Zack held his mother's infamous molasses cookies at mid-mouth as the door to the jail burst open.

Zack! Lone Walker!

What? Am I late for a poker game? Zack asked, surprised.

I wish like hell a poker game said it all. Believe me, when I tell you, It won't make your day. Not after my less than cordial run-in with your father at the Trails Inn.

Zack frowned and set the uneaten cookie on his desk as he gestured for Chance to sit in the chair across from him. I'm all you got—Lone Walker went home to be with Ma after an incident with Pop earlier. We didn't want her to be alone. Zack sighed. Okay, spill it. What in the hell did Pop do or say? It must have been a doozie to tick you off.

He said something which threw me for a loop. I figured it for whiskey talk because he blamed me for your mother moving out of their house. Chance removed his hat and rested it on his knee. What the hell did he mean? He looked quizzical. I mean, did she really leave your house? Damn, where in the world would she have gone?

As a matter-of-fact, she finally had enough and moved out of the house this afternoon. Zack watched the response on Chance's face filled with unyielding concern.

Chance blinked his eyes in surprise. Excuse me?

Yep, you heard right.

Chance shook his head while pacing. I've always hoped she'd leave him, but damn, I never thought it would happen after all these years. My mind is spinning.

She's finally had enough of Pop's bullshit. He surprised her by showing up at the house before she could leave. They got into a tussle. He sighed. Damn lucky that I went to see how the moving was going. Otherwise, I don't want to think about what could have happened. It seems of late that each time Pop comes home, he's more of a problem.

Chance said as his body tensed. Please, Zack, I need to know. Did he hurt her?

When I got there, he had her pinned against the doorjamb. She was shaken up and had bruises on her arm where he held her. Otherwise, she's her usual determined self.

Damn his sorry arse. I'm glad as hell that your mother left him. Why did he think I had anything to do with it?

"I heard you've been in Phoenix, so there was no way you could have known. Your folks told Ma she could store some of her things at the Bar≠M≠Ranch for as long as she needs."

Damn, it makes perfect sense. Chance looked at Zack. It's no secret we have no love lost between us, so he believes I'm responsible. Does that size it up?

Yep. I believe you've got the picture. You, Ma, Laredo, Janie, and Uncle Garth have been close since you were kids, so it's a natural leap that he would be jealous and condemn you. But let's face it, Pop always attacks someone else. No matter the circumstance, he believes he's been wronged.

And your dad resents our closeness. Where did she move?

Since Great Grandma Dot can no longer care for Great Grandpa Freddie, it made sense for them to move in with Grandpa and Grandma B.

Oh, he said with a grin, so your ma moved into your great grandparents' home? No wonder he's mad as hell.

You got it.

Chance grinned. And your father doesn't have a clue where she went. Right?

Zack got up and poured himself a cup of coffee while answering. You're right. He has no idea. At least, not yet. I told him to stop by here when he sobered up, and then we could talk. Huh. I knew it wouldn't happen. Care for a cup of my mud?

Yeah. I'll wager it's strong enough to shrivel my innards.

Well, hell, I have the remedy to fix what ails ya. Zack reached into the bottom right drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. This should do the trick.

Thanks. After eating dust for a couple of weeks, I need it.

Zack topped off their coffee mugs with the whiskey.

Chance took a drink. So, did you boys stay at the house for when your dad comes back home?

Nope, Ma wanted us to move with her. She left the house for Pop. It'll work fine since Great Grandpa Freddie's house is as big as a barn. Pop will find out she's there soon enough, but Lone Walker and I will be close by.

Of course, you're right.

Between Lone Walker and me, we'll check on her when she isn't at the hotel. I just hope he'll calm down and leave her alone.

Well, you know it goes without saying that I'll be here anytime she or you boys need me.

Zack smiled mischievously. I'm counting on it.

CHAPTER 3

OLD FRIENDS

≠M≠  CHIVALRY

"Friendship is precious, but a

friend's devotion is priceless."

The Trails End Saloon, owned by Rafe Lafferty, remained a respectable establishment. By choice, he ran it as the previous owner, a much-beloved town elder, Ole Ed Burns, and without soiled doves.

However, Peaksville had a town whore for such favors. The well-known, Hot to Trot Pepper, as referred to by many men. Her home had a revolving door for their varied appetites and her talents.

Aside from the long oak bar, it had ten tables with different chairs and could boast two or three tables of poker players on any given day. The saloon's décor, while not fancy, served its patrons well. Just as important was the bar with an ample supply of spirits.

Chance Marley's strapping six-foot frame barely cleared the doorway when he flung the batwing doors open shortly before dusk. His brown hair with slight graying at the temples needed a trim. He thought briefly about stopping for a shave and haircut, but quenching his thirst and a full belly won.

Chance, Rafe said, good to see ya.

Thanks, my friend. I spent two weeks mixing ranch business and some personal time in Phoenix. It's been a long and hot trip home. I'm dry as dirt. I'll have a tall ale with the biggest steak you can muster. Make sure it all but moos off the plate. Then I'm off for home and my bed. He chuckled. Sleeping on the ground and my weary bones. I'm no young buck anymore.

Rafe laughed. I hear ya. Here, this will wet your whistle. He handed Chance his glass of ale. Have a seat at your regular table while I have Charlie rustle up your grub. He will have it ready in no time.

Thanks—

Well, if it isn't the smug and mighty Chance Marley.

Chance rolled his hazel eyes while seeing red when hearing the dreaded voice of Luke Allister staggering into the saloon. He sighed while turning to face his nemesis. I suppose with your chosen lifestyle, Allister, just about anybody would appear holier-than-thou to you.

At least I don't put on airs.

Don't you be starting any trouble tonight, Luke, Rafe ordered.

Stay out... he belched, of this, Rafe.

Dammit, Allister, I don't want any trouble from you tonight. So, whatever burr you got up your arse, I'm not your problem. Let's just go our separate ways.

Not so fast! You stay here until we get something straight.

Don't let the sum-bitch goad ya, Chance, Lester Pander said. Luke is always bruisin' for a fight.

You got it right, Lester. Chance walked toward his table.

Luke followed Chance but bumped into a table before saying, You must be the son-of-a-bitch who talked my wife into moving out of our house.

As much as Chance wanted to clean Luke's clock, this was not the time or place, so he thought better of it and stepped back to avoid any fisticuffs. What in the hell do you mean, Allister?

You know damn well what I'm talking about, Marley. He swayed and belched. It's like you to stick your damn nose in our business.

An exasperated Chance groaned. Look, I just returned from two weeks in Phoenix, so I'm not in your business.

Chance saw Luke's doubled-up fist coming, so he gut-punched Luke, causing his ale to slosh over the rim and onto his shirtfront.

Damn... you... Marley.

Rafe scowled. You deserved it, Luke, so take your sorry arse out of here until you sober up and can be civilized for a change, dammit. So, get along with you.

Hey, I gotta right to protect what's mine, Lafferty.

Dan Chambers grabbed the inebriated Luke by his upper arm and aimed him toward the batwing doors, with Pete Watson helping.

Luke tried to jerk free. Let go of me!

Thanks, fellas, Chance said to them with a grimace. Dammit, I didn't plan on wearing my drink.

Here, Rafe said, tossing a towel, Let me give you a refill.

Thanks. Sorry about the scene.

It's not your fault. Here, this one's on the house.

I'm much obliged to you, Rafe. Chance raised the glass. Cheers, then he walked to his regular table to have a seat.

You haven't heard the last of this, Marley!

Get out, Luke, Dan growled while he and Pete shoved Luke through the door batwing doors.

≠M≠M≠M≠

Sheriff Zack Allister and his blood-brother, half-breed Deputy Lone Walker, spent the night at the Peaksville Jail when needed. The attached small, sparsely furnished room had two bunks at the rear. The only decorative feature in the room was the Afghans their Grandma Barkley had crocheted. An old table, which had seen better days, stood under the window in the room, with a burlap bag serving as a curtain. A crate nailed above the rusted dry sink served as a makeshift shelf.

In the jail's backroom doorway, Zack held his mother's infamous molasses cookies at mid-mouth as the door to the jail burst open.

Zack! Lone Walker!

What? Am I late for a poker game? Zack asked, surprised.

I wish like hell a poker game said it all. Believe me, when I tell you, It won't make your day. Not after my less than cordial run-in with your father at the Trails Inn.

Zack frowned and set the uneaten cookie on his desk as he gestured for Chance to sit in the chair across from him. I'm all you got—Lone Walker went home to be with Ma after an incident with Pop earlier. We didn't want her to be alone. Zack sighed. Okay, spill it. What in the hell did Pop do or say? It must have been a doozie to tick you off.

He said something which threw me for a loop. I figured it for whiskey talk because he blamed me for your mother moving out of their house. Chance removed his hat and rested it on his knee. What the hell did he mean? He looked quizzical. I mean, did she really leave your house? Damn, where in the world would she have gone?

As a matter-of-fact, she finally had enough and moved out of the house this afternoon. Zack watched the response on Chance's face filled with unyielding concern.

Chance blinked his eyes in surprise. Excuse me?

Yep, you heard right.

Chance shook his head while pacing. I've always hoped she'd leave him, but damn, I never thought it would happen after all these years. My mind is spinning.

She's finally had enough of Pop's bullshit. He surprised her by showing up at the house before she could leave. They got into a tussle. He sighed. Damn lucky that I went to see how the moving was going. Otherwise, I don't want to think about what could have happened. It seems of late that each time Pop comes home, he's more of a problem.

Chance said as his body tensed. Please, Zack, I need to know. Did he hurt her?

"When I got there, he had her pinned