Delilah: Women in the West Adventure Series, #1

By Kaye Lynne Booth

Delilah is a woman haunted by her past.

 

Her homecoming from prison quickly turns into a quest for vengeance when she is brutally raped and left for dead, and her fourteen-year-old ward is abducted. Sheer will and determination take this tough and gritty heroine up against wild beasts of the forest, Indians and outlaws to Leadville.

 

Can the colorful inhabitants of the Colorado mining town work their way into Delilah's heart, offering a chance for a future she thought she'd lost along with her innocence?

 

If you like strong and capable female protagonists, you'll love Delilah.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WordCrafter Press
• Release date: Mar 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9798201006648

Kaye Lynne Booth

Kaye Lynne Booth is the D.I.Y. author. She has built her author business from the ground up, and she prides herself in sharing what she knows and helping her fellow authors when she can. Writing is her passion and she has the determination to see it through.

Book preview

Chapter 1

All five bottles were still standing, lined up along the fence rail, taunting her. Why couldn’t she hit even one?

Relax, sugar, Abby instructed. You’re tensing up before you get the shot off. Just squeeze the trigger, slow and smooth. Don’t take your eye off the target.

Delilah took a deep breath and steadied her hand, aiming at the center bottle. Placing her finger on the trigger, she eased it back. It felt as if time stood still as the gun went off and the center bottle exploded in a spray of glass. She exhaled, feeling her chest deflate with a loss of breath she wasn’t aware she was holding. Her face lit up with a smile. I did it, Abby! she exclaimed.

Indeed you did, Abby said, smiling back. I knew you’d get it. She stood, brushing the dust from the back of her blue dress. Now you keep at it. There’s still four more of them bottles up there, Abby said, heading into the house. Wash up before you come in for supper. She turned as she walked past Sarah. As soon as you’ve got the wash hung out, hurry yourself into the kitchen and set the chicken to cooking. I’m expecting Judge McClintock for supper.

Yes ‘um, Sarah replied, nodding in Abby’s direction.

Delilah steadied her hand and aimed once more, but again; she missed her mark. She stomped her foot in the dirt. Son-of-a-wh... She glanced at Sarah as she caught herself. Abby was protective of Sarah. She wouldn’t appreciate Delilah’s use of jailhouse language in front of the girl.

Why do you need to learn how to shoot, anyway? Sarah asked as she hung out the wash on the line. I just don’t see no call for it. Sarah was fourteen, but she struggled hard to look and act older. Her brown plaid dress and white apron didn’t do much to complement her dark features and emerald-green eyes. As Abby’s ward, Sarah was stuck doing the wash and every other menial chore. Abby wouldn’t allow her to take callers or to wear the fancy silk dresses like the other girls in the house. It didn’t matter. Sarah was a looker and not even the plainest dress could downplay her flaming red hair, hanging around her face like a fiery mane.

She aimed and took another shot. This one hit her mark, spraying more glass over the ground. Well, you ain’t got to travel over the Sangre de Christos to San Luis alone, she said. I do. Delilah turned, looking Sarah in the eye. Wouldn’t hurt for you to learn how to shoot a pistol. It’s all right to know how to handle a rifle for hunting and such, but you can carry a pistol on your person, and it could save your life one day.

Don’t you like it here? Sarah asked.

It’s not that. Abby’s wonderful to me. She saved my bacon more than once in prison. I was a scared kid goin’ in there, and she taught me to hold my own against those who would’ve done me harm. She’s offered me to stay here for as long as I want.

Why not just stay then? You got kin in San Luis?

No, not kin. Just a friend who’s been waiting for me for two long years. He’s the only one who cared enough to write to me while I was gone. He ran my family’s ranch so the bank couldn’t take it, so there’d be somethin’ left for me when I got out.

Is he a beau? Sarah asked, pulling another dress from the washtub and shaking it out. Where’s your folks?

You ask a lot of questions, Sarah, she said, looking back over her shoulder with a raised brow.

Sarah shrugged, pinning the dress on the line.

Well... I guess there’s no harm in it, she said. My folks are both dead. So is my sister. Manuelo’s the closest thing to family I got now.

So, Manuelo’s the friend who’s waiting? Sarah asked.

Yeah, she said, nodding. Manuelo’s like a grandfather to me. She turned her attention again to the bottles and the task at hand. She aimed and fired, aimed and fired, hitting two of the four bottles left standing. Standing with her hands on her hips, she admired her handiwork.

So, what happened to your folks? Sarah asked, pulling some bloomers from the washtub.

Papa died of consumption when I was twelve, she said, thinking aloud as she reloaded her pistol. He was a giant of a man with white-blond hair and blue eyes that revealed his Swedish heritage. His size was off puttin’ to some, but he was very kind... lovin’ and gentle. He made me a swing in an old cottonwood outside our farmhouse, and he’d push me higher and higher till there was butterflies in my stomach and I’d giggle and holler for him to stop. He used to read to us from the Montgomery Ward catalog. Me and Katie, one on each knee, hunkered round the coal oil lamp so we could see the pictures. She smiled as she spun the chamber, checking her load. Papa always took me huntin’ with him even though Mama didn’t approve, and he’d let me take my horse out and be gone for hours, so long as my chores were all done. She paused, focused on the childhood that died along with her father.

She snapped the cylinder back into place with a flick of her wrist, refocusing her thoughts. After Papa died, a bastard cocksucker who was meaner than a mama bear protecting her cubs took to my ma, she said, taking aim once more. There were still two bottles left.

She stopped, looking back at Sarah as she realized what she’d said, cupping her hand, as if to stop her fowl mouth. I apologize for my language. Prison sure didn’t make me no more of a lady.

Don’t worry about me, Sarah said, scowling. I live in a whorehouse. Ain’t much I ain’t heard.

No, it ain’t right to talk like that, but sometimes when I get mad... she said. Well, it’s like my papa used to say, ‘Bad habits are like in-laws, always popping in without being invited’. She refocused her aim on the bottle on the right.

So, your step-father was a mean ol’ bear? Sarah asked, pinning the bloomers on the line.

Yeah, and he was the Sheriff, or at least a poor excuse for one. She pulled the trigger and hit her mark, littering the ground with glass shards. The old anger boiled within her. She pressed her lips together. She’d already said too much, stirring up unwanted memories. Two years in prison ‘cause the law don’t work fair. Too damn many men like Dario, she said with a sigh, aiming for the last bottle. Now, I reckon it’s time to go home and settle my affairs.

Delilah, Sarah said, pausing with a silvery petticoat extended in mid-air. Take me with you. I could help out on your ranch.

She paused to meet Sarah’s gaze. In prison, returning to the ranch had been all she thought of, but Manuelo sold portions in order to make the payments to the bank. Now she wasn’t sure what was left to come back to. Sarah, you don’t want to go with me, she said. I don’t even know what’s left of the ranch. Manuelo held it together as best he could, but there are difficulties to running a ranch. I might not keep it just cause of that. Might sell it up and move far away. Maybe even to California. Sides, everyone I ever cared for up and died or were kilt. I’m bad luck that way.

Maybe you’ll come back here, said Sarah, pinning up the petticoat.

Delilah turned to look at the girl. If my little sister, Elsie, were still alive, I imagine she’d be a lot like you, always asking questions, full of hopes and dreams. She’d be about your age, too. She said, dropping the pistol to her side. That ain’t how life works, though. There’s bad things out there that’ll shatter dreams. Don’t be in such a hurry to grow up. Hold on to your innocence for a while.

Sarah returned her gaze, silent for a moment. Then she cleared her throat. Won’t be long ‘fore you're ready to go, I guess, she said, reaching into the washtub once more.

Oh, it’ll be a while, I think. I need to be able to handle this pistol. I also need money for a horse and saddle, and for enough provisions to keep me alive ‘til I get there, she said, aiming once more.

How long will it take? Sarah asked, turning the tub upside down to let the water run out.

To get there? Delilah cocked her head and raised a brow, questioning.

No, how long before you’re set to leave?

Don’t know, she said, but I got a good start with my job at the livery. I hope to be home before winter sets in. Winters in the San Luis Valley can be mighty cold. She steadied her hand and focused on that last bottle. I worked out a deal for a horse with Old Johnson at the livery. It’ll take a bit of work, but I reckon I’ll have one soon enough.

What you gonna name him? Sarah asked. I always thought Charlie was a good name for a horse. She giggled, revealing her young age despite the tough veneer she tried to build. Get it? Charlie Horse?

She smiled. I get it. But I ain’t goin’ to name him, she said, shaking her head. Papa always said you shouldn’t name somethin’ you might end up eatin’. Concentrating on her target, her tongue slid across her upper lip. Her last shot sent shards of glass flying everywhere as she pegged the last bottle.

Chapter 2

Abby punched her fist down into the ball of dough on the table before looking up, her face and hair covered in flour, as Delilah entered the kitchen. Light from the window above the wash basin shone down on the table in the center of the small kitchen, but the yellow curtains, pulled back to the window’s edge, left Abby’s face in shadow.

Criminy. You look just like a spook, Delilah said, holding her hand to her chest, laughing. You’re enough to give a person a terrible fright. She pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. I need to talk to you.

Abby nodded toward her as she worked the ball of dough back into itself on the flour strewn table with purpose. You can talk, but I ain’t got time to sit and chat. Thursday’s bread baking day, she said, kneading it back into itself. I got orders to fill.

All right, Delilah said, hesitating. She’d dreaded giving Abby this news. The woman had been almost like a mother to her. I plan to head back to the valley Saturday, soon as Old Johnson gives me my week’s pay.

Abby froze in mid-fold and stared at her with an expressionless face, but Delilah could see that she was processing in her head what she had said.

You knew this was comin’, Abby, Delilah said. I never made pretense to stay here. You knew I planned to go back home. I gotta see what’s left of my Pa’s ranch.

Abby sighed, her eyes dropping back down to the table’s dusty white surface. I knew it was comin’, but I didn’t think it’d be so soon, she said, punching down the dough once more. Hand me that bowl over there on the counter, would ya?

Delilah rose, grabbing up the bowl and holding it out to Abby. Well, I finished paying Johnson for the horse and I’ve gathered enough supplies. If I save my draw on last week’s pay, I should have enough to make one payment to the bank. Hopefully Manuelo hasn’t fallen behind more’n that.

Just set the bowl on the table, honey, Abby said. You think you’ve enough to make a start, then? She plopped the ball of dough into the bowl and placed a towel over the top.

I’ll have enough to get back home, although I’ll have to be careful with expenses, Delilah said, nodding.

So, you’re set on it, then?

Delilah nodded. I am, she said. Please understand, Abby. Dario sold most of Pa’s holdings when he hitched up with my Mama, and he let the rest go to hell. Manuelo has tried to take care of the place, but he’s had to sell off even more to ward off the bank. I must tend to my Pa’s business.

I do understand, Abby said, nodding her head. She walked over to the stove, placing the bowl on the shelf above it. I knew all along you weren’t planning on settling here. You don’t owe me no excuses. She grabbed another towel from the shelf below the washbasin and began wiping flour up from the tabletop with a fervor.

Delilah smiled. Then why are you upset? she said. Don’t think I ain’t grateful.

Abby looked up, as if contemplating something. It ain’t that, she said. Stomping back to the washbasin, she rinsed out her towel and twisted the excess water from it. She turned to face Delilah, their gazes meeting. There’s something you can do for me.

Anything, Abby, as long as it don’t involve servicing your customers.

Abby lifted her brow. Oh, for heaven’s sake, she said. I wouldn’t ask you to do anything of the kind.

Then, what? Delilah questioned.

Abby leaned in closer and spoke in whispered tones. It’s Sarah.

Delilah sat patiently, waiting for Abby to reveal more. For a moment there was only silence, so thick you could slice it with a knife, or maybe it was just the stifling afternoon heat.

Sarah’s my blood, Abby said, breaking the silence. Only, nobody ‘round here knows it. I had her when I was very young. My sister, Aggie, raised her. I brought her out here after my sister passed on last year. If Sarah stays here, she’s going to end up following in my footsteps, and I don’t want this life for her. She’s already trying to dress and act like one of the girls. Her eyes moved to the tabletop as she resumed her wiping efforts, leaving white swirls in the towel’s wake. I was thinking you might take her with you. You could teach her about ranching. She could have a better life.

Delilah was stunned. She didn’t know what to say. She was nineteen, just out of prison, and she hadn’t had enough time to even contemplate motherhood. Abby, I can’t take care of her. I don’t know how.

Sure you can, she said. You had a little sister, and from what you’ve told me, you did most of the caring for her. Sarah could be a big help on your ranch.

I don’t even know if there’s a ranch left. I’ll be learning a lot about ranchin’ myself, if there is, Delilah protested. Met by silence, she continued, It’s a hard road I’m settin’ out to travel. What if I can’t protect her? I may run into hostile Indians... or bears... or wolves.

Abby shook her head. I’ve seen you shoot. You can protect her, she said. She leaned over the table, staring into Delilah’s eyes.

Now Delilah was the one to look away. What Abby proposed was unexpected. How could she possibly take on the raising of a fourteen-year-old?

Please... help me do one good thing for my child. If you get there and there’s no ranch left, you can send her back to me, Abby pleaded. She can ride that old Bay, out in the stable and I’ll pay for her keep. Please, Delilah. Won’t you at least try?

Abby had been good to her ever since they met, the day she’d arrived at the Colorado Territorial Prison. Abby’d saved her bacon more than once and taught her the rules of survival inside prison walls. When Delilah was released, Abby’d offered her a place to stay while she prepared to return to the Valley, expecting nothing in return, until now.

She paced from the table to the kitchen door and back. You know I can’t say no, she said with a sigh. But I ain’t comfortable with the arrangement. I know about as much about motherin’ as I do about whorin’, but she reminds me a lot of my sister. I hope I can do better by her than I did by Elsie.

Abby smiled. You’ll do fine, she said, returning to the task of cleaning up from her baking. She went to the washbowl and rinsed her towel, wringing out the excess water. The two of you will take care of each other.

I hope you’re right, Delilah said with doubt in her voice. Can she even shoot?

Abby nodded as she swiped the rest of the flour from the table into her hand. She can shoot a rifle if you have one, and she’s good with a knife.

Delilah placed her hands on her hips. You know I don’t, she said. All I got is my six-shooter. There’re dangers between here and San Luis. I just spent two years in prison on account of I failed my Mama and sister, when they were countin’ on me to save ‘em, you know.

You eliminated the danger all right, Abby argued.

That didn’t save them or me, she said, shaking her head.

She looks up to you, Abby said. You know she wants to go.

You’re who put that confounded idea in her head, Delilah said. I should’a known.

Please, Delilah, the older woman said, looking into her eyes.

Aw, I said I’d do it, didn’t I? Delilah said, stomping her foot in frustration.

Thank you, Abby said, letting out a sigh. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she took a step forward and wrapped her arms around Delilah, embracing her.

Now, cut that out, Delilah said, but she returned her embrace. Having company on the trail might not be such a bad idea, but she worried about what might lie ahead.

Chapter 3

Delilah squinted, raising her hand to shield the blazing midday sun from her eyes as she came up over the rise. She pulled up on the reins, brushing wisps of sandy-blonde hair from her face. Even pulled back and wrapped with a strip of leather, a few wild hairs always managed to escape.

Behind her, Sarah sat atop the Bay in a loose white blouse and the folds of her long, black skirt snapped as they blew in the winds from across the valley. Delilah hadn’t been happy with her garb, but the girl’s wardrobe only contained frilly dresses. These were best suited to riding out of what she had. She’d made a note to see about getting the girl some britches as soon as possible. Now, the girl drew up and scanned the landscape, as if to see what Delilah was seeing, the flat-brimmed black hat Abby had given her hanging against her shoulders. After fighting with the winds to keep it on her head all the way down Moffat Pass, she’d finally given up and let it