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Prologue
“You’re still thinking of him, aren’t you?”
Elsa rolled her head to see a shadow leaning over her in the darkness. She shook her head in mute terror, but his hand tangled cruelly in her hair and yanked her head off the pillow.
“Aren’t you?”
She winced in pain and stared up into his face, heart thrumming. There was nothing she could say when he got like this, nothing she could do. Her blood turned to water as the shadow bent over her, as his breath warmed her cheek.
He was going to kill her one day.
“Come here,” he growled and yanked her off the bed by one arm. She tumbled to the floor, her long blonde hair hiding her face as she bowed her head and wept.
“Those tears don’t fool me,” he raged. “You put them on and off like your clothes! Were you seeing his face just now, were you?”
His voice jumped to a shout, and he slapped her so hard she gasped and saw stars popping in the air. She put a hand to her cheek, looking up at him in teary-eyed entreaty.
“Please don’t,” she begged, but he dragged her to her feet and held her swaying body as he glared into her eyes.
“Sometimes I think the only way to get him out of you is to kill you,” he panted. “Would that do it, Elsa? Would it?”
She sobbed and turned her face away from his, because he was going to beat her unconscious.
“Don’t you turn away when I’m talking to you!”
One of the hands on her shoulders let go, and the next thing she knew, searing pain flashed across her temple like a bolt of lightning. She felt herself crash against the floor before the whole world went mercifully dark.
The last thing she remembered was the fleeting thought, help me, but she laughed at it even as she faded away.
No one was coming to help her.
* * *
Elsa’s eyes fluttered open, and she groaned and put a hand to her head. She’d lost consciousness for a moment or two. She was lying face down on the cold floor, her heartbeat throbbing painfully in her temples.
Her eyes widened to see his shadow looming over her again. But now that he’d taken his rage out on her, his madness was gone. He reached for her hand tenderly, his dark head bent over it in relief.
It was like two different men lived in the same body.
“Oh, Elsa,” he breathed, and his fingers tightened on hers. “I thought I’d killed you! Can you sit up?”
She shook her head slightly, because it hurt to move. But he slid an arm under her and picked her up off the floor as gently as if she were a baby.
He was never more caressing than after he’d beaten her.
He bent down to lower her carefully onto the bed. He arranged her gown neatly around her, then pulled the covers up to her chin as if she were a child.
He sat down on the bed beside her and stroked her hair. His touch was as light as a sigh.
“I’m not sure why I get so furious,” he whispered, almost like he was thinking aloud. “It must be because I can’t stand to think of you with another man.”
Elsa closed her eyes and said nothing. It hurt to move her head. So she lay there perfectly still and let him talk while she breathed.
“My poor Elsa. You suffer my dark moods like an angel. Because you know that in spite of everything, I love you with all my soul. I’d die for you.”
He leaned down to kiss her hair, and Elsa frowned slightly, because she was already weakening. This was how he kept her at his side. This was why she stayed with him when any sane woman would’ve fled.
He knew just what to say to her. He knew just what she wanted to hear. He always knew just what to do.
He bent down to give her a feather-light kiss. “Forgive me, my angel,” he breathed. “You mustn’t be cross with your lover. Tell me. Tell me you love me true.”
Elsa lay there, breathing, with her brows knitted.
“Tell me, darling. I can’t bear to think that I hurt my angel. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”
Elsa’s lips were dry, but she opened them to moan, “My head hurts so badly. I need something for the pain.”
“I’ll get it for you right now.” He leaned down to feather another kiss across her hair, then rose and left the room.
Elsa turned her eyes to the window. Moonlight streamed through and a block of white light slanted across the floor. She frowned to see a dark spot on the wooden boards where she fell, then raised a hand to her ear.
Her hand came back wet, and when she lifted it into the light, a dark thread of blood trickled into her palm.
Elsa pulled her mouth down. She was racked first by grief, then by fear. She loved him, couldn’t bear to think of losing him, but he was going to kill her.
If she didn’t escape, she’d die. He’d weep over her grave, but it would be too late for regret.
Love might be forever. But dead was forever, too.
Yes, she had to leave him, but she didn’t know if she was strong enough to run away. She’d tried so many times and failed. It was a woman’s nature to love and forgive, and it felt hateful and wrong to do anything else. She didn’t want to do anything else.
Elsa closed her eyes in despair. Her little flicker of courage was already fading.
The door opened abruptly and she closed her eyes. She felt the mattress sink as he sat down on its edge.
“Here, drink this.”
Something touched her lips, and Elsa opened her mouth to receive some kind of bitter-tasting medicine.
“Drink it down now,” he whispered, and she frowned and obeyed. She could hear a smile in his voice as he breathed, “My good girl. Try to rest. The medicine will help you sleep. I’ll be right here if you need me.”
Elsa opened her eyes to look up at him for an instant. The moon gleamed in his eyes, and she could see that he was smiling down at her tenderly. Genuine gratitude blossomed in her, even though that was tangled up and made no sense.
She’d stopped trying to explain it to herself. She only knew her love for him was real. Her heart survived his worst abuses and went right on loving him in spite of them all. She couldn’t help how she felt.
“Tell me you love me, Elsa. Say it.”
Elsa felt her heartbeat quicken in distress. He was the wrong man, the worst man in the world for her. He punished her for loving him, but she couldn’t help herself. She licked her lips and frowned.
“I… love you.”
But as he bent down to kiss her, her eyes moved beyond him to the bedroom door. This time had to be different. Somehow, she had to find the courage to walk through that door and never look back.
It would break her heart, but she had no choice.
“My darling,” he crooned. “My sweet angel.”
Chapter One
Perdido, New Mexico
1883
“Help! Oh, please God, help me!”
Boone Carter’s head turned on his pillow, and his hands clenched and unclenched as he rolled in the arms of his old nightmare. He was back in that ugly, forsaken box canyon again, seeing Lila in his imagination minutes before she died.
Hearing her scream for help.
His imagination had replayed it a thousand times, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop seeing it, couldn’t stop wondering what his wife had suffered in her final moments. He saw her fighting with the man who’d killed her, saw her struggling to keep him from tearing her blouse open, saw the man strike her across the cheek, saw him knock her down.
He saw himself lunge toward her, strain to reach her, to save her, but it was always the same. In his dream, he was running in slow motion as the murderer buried his face in Lila’s neck.
The shrillness of her screams made him gasp, sit bolt upright in bed, and yell at the top of his lungs.
“Lila!”
He stared wildly at the bed, at the serene, moonlit room, at the red-and-white checkered quilt that Lila had sewn a few winters ago. It took him a few moments to understand that she was gone, that it had been the nightmare again. He closed his eyes and sat there, heart pounding. He pulled his big hands over his face and fought the tears of grief and rage and frustration that always followed that evil dream. It had been two years since Lila’s murder, but to him, it was always yesterday.
The bedroom door creaked open softly, and Boone dashed the back of his hand across his eyes and straightened up. His son Cody peeked around the door, his little face pale and frightened.
“Pa, are you all right? You were yelling.”
Boone composed himself and put on what he hoped was a reassuring expression. His five-year-old son’s uncertain look went to his heart.
He patted the bed. “Come here, buddy.”
Cody scuttled over and climbed up into the bed with him. Boone closed his arms around his son. In that moment he wasn’t sure if he was comforting Cody or if Cody was comforting him.
Cody’s small voice mumbled into his chest. “Were you having the dream again, Pa?”
Boone struggled with his conscience and lost. “No, boy.” He laughed. “I dreamed I was wrestling a bear, and that rascal bit me right on the bottom. Left me with only half a one. Wouldn’t that’ve been a sight?”
He hugged Cody tight, and the boy giggled in glee. Some of the darkness left his heart as Cody turned a laughing baby face up to his. That happy little face was all that mattered.
“Half a bottom?” Cody cried.
“That’s right,” Boone replied stoutly. “I would’ve had to ride side saddle.”
He laughed with Cody again, then kissed the top of his head.
“Scoot off to bed, now,” he told him. “You need to rest. You’re going to school tomorrow.”
Cody’s big eyes searched his face. “You sure you’re all right, Pa?”
Boone’s heart twisted, but he put on his widest and falsest smile. “Sure am, boy. I still got a whole bottom.”
Cody giggled again and slid off the bed. Boone watched him go with a smile, but his smile faded as soon as the door closed.
When even his son was noticing his nightmares, things were getting out of hand. He had to get hold of himself. Figuring out how was the trick.
Boone glanced at the bedside clock. It read 5:45 a.m., but he wasn’t getting any more sleep that night. He pulled his hands over his face, threw the quilt back, slapped his bare feet onto the cold floor, and shuffled off to the kitchen.
A few minutes later, he had a pot of coffee bubbling on the wood stove. He stared at the cast-iron monstrosity he’d bought for his wife a few years ago. She’d loved making breakfast on it. She’d been a wonderful cook.
Even after two years, cooking still felt strange to him. He was just now getting to the point where his food was fit to eat. It was lucky that Cody was too small to know any better.
Lucky that Cody was too small to remember any different.
Boone poured himself a steaming cup of coffee. He warmed his hands with the cup before taking a long sip. Yeah, he needed to get some coffee in him.
He opened the kitchen door and drifted onto the back porch. As he leaned against a post, the sky slowly lightened behind the black silhouette of the Sandia Mountains. The air was cool and dawn-fresh, and the desert stretching out to the mountains’ feet was quiet in the way it could only be early in the morning.
Boone’s eyes scanned the dim landscape. Somewhere out there he had a hundred cattle. Not a big herd, just enough to keep the tin can on top of the kitchen shelf filled with dollar bills. He bowed his head to take another sip of coffee.
The sky lightened by another shade, and slowly the pink nimbus over the mountains’ shoulder brightened to the first wink of sunrise. Somewhere around the corner of the house, the rooster puffed out its chest and crowed a greeting to the new day.
Boone stood watching the sunrise, letting its light drive the shadows out of his head and his heart. He might still be dogged by nightmares, but he was usually all right once he got up and stirred around. The father of a young boy didn’t have much time to indulge himself.
And that reminded him. It was Cody’s first day of school, and he needed to get going if he wanted to present a scrubbed-shiny boy to the teacher that morning.
Boone sighed. He took one last sip of coffee, set the cup down, and pushed off the porch to go milk the cow and gather eggs for breakfast.
OFFER: A BRAND NEW SERIES AND 2 FREEBIES FOR YOU!
Grab my new series, "Grit and Glory on the Frontier", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!
Hi there, I really hope you enjoyed this sneak peek of my new story! I’m looking forward to reading your comments below.