Lady Outlaw
The Lady Has a Secret
No one would ever imagine a fresh-faced young woman could be robbing stage bandits of their ill-gotten fortunes. But Jennie Jones is desperate to save her family’s ranch from foreclosure. And the risks seem worth it, until her upright new ranch hand offers a glimpse of how much is really at stake.
Former bounty hunter Caleb Johnson is ready for a new, clean start. With a woman like Jennie, he could build a future there in Utah territory. But only if his gentle faith can guide her in a choice between the land she’s fought so hard to save and a future by his side.
Her left arm throbbed.
Jennie stared down at her bloody jacket and remembered the stage bandits shooting at her from the second-story room. The bullet grazing her arm. The escape. She had to get out of Fillmore—now.
Mounting a horse, she headed for the road. The steady movement of the horse beneath her and the unrelenting pain in her arm lolled Jennie into a state of semiwakefulness. Ahead of her, she could see the angry faces of the thieves she’d robbed.
Then another image rose unbidden. The handsome features she’d grown to know so well. Unlike the others, Caleb regarded her with tenderness. But too quickly his expression changed to one of pain and anger.
He doesn’t despise me now, but he will if he ever finds out what I’ve done.
How would she explain her gunshot wound to Caleb and her family?
“Can’t I have the ranch and Caleb, too?” she asked the heavens. The rumble of distant thunder was her only reply.
STACY HENRIE
has always had an avid appetite for history, fiction and chocolate. As a youth, she enjoyed reading historical novels, dabbling in creative writing and poetry, visiting museums, exploring ghost towns and daydreaming about life in bygone eras. While she had a goal to write and publish a book one day, she turned her attentions first to graduating with a bachelor’s degree in public relations. Not long after, she switched from writing press releases and newsletters to writing inspirational historical fiction as a stay-at-home mom.
Stacy loves reading, interior decorating, romantic movies, her famous chocolate-chip cookies and, most of all, laughing with her family. She lives in central Utah with her husband and three kids, where she appreciates the chance to live out history through her characters, while enjoying all the modern conveniences of life in the 21st century.
Stacy Henrie
For I the Lord thy God will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, Fear not; I will help thee.
—Isaiah
41:13
To Peter
This story is as much ours as it is mine.
Thanks for never doubting.
Acknowledgments
First, foremost and always, thank you to my family—especially my husband who read the manuscript about as many times as I did, who gave me the time I needed to revise, and who never gave up on my dream, even when I wasn’t so sure myself.
Thank you to my mom and grandma for instilling in me a love of reading, and to my dad for passing on his interest in history and helping me with the idea for Jennie’s outlawing ways.
Thank you to my writer friends for their advice, encouragement, suggestions and laughter—especially Ali Cross, Elana Johnson, Jenn Wilks, Sara Olds, Becki Clayson and Rachel Nunes.
Thank you to the ladies in book club for their interest in my writing journey through the years. I hope this book gives you lots to talk about—after I leave the room.
Thank you to Jessica Alvarez for her vision and support, and to Elizabeth Mazer who loved the story as much as I did and was willing to give me a second chance.
A final thank-you to my Father in Heaven for guiding my path, giving me this gift and teaching me to trust. Thankfully we don’t always get what we want when we want it—typically the blessings are far greater than we could imagine when we least expect it.
Contents
Chapter One
Utah Territory—September 1869
“R
egrettably, the answer is no, Miss Jones.”
The bank president’s apologetic tone might have fooled her, but Jennie caught a glint of satisfaction in Albert Dixon’s gray eyes that contradicted his sympathetic words.
“I’m sure things have been more difficult on the ranch since your father’s death, but you haven’t made a payment on your mortgage in over a year.” He cleared his throat. “That’s eighteen hundred dollars you already owe us. We’ll need to see five hundred of that before the end of the month, if you wish to keep your property. The full debt will be due next August—no exceptions.”
Jennie gripped the handle of her purse so hard her fingers hurt. No matter the sum, she wouldn’t give up the ranch. “And if I don’t have the money...”
Mr. Dixon dropped a glance at the sheet of paper before him, then slid the document across the desk. Jennie read the words written in bold, black ink at the top—
Notice of Foreclosure.
“If you can’t produce the minimum amount, we’ll have to terminate the loan.” He shook his head and rose from his chair. “I wish there was more I could do. I’m deeply sorry.”
“I’m sure you are.” Jennie grabbed her small suitcase off the floor and came to her feet, eyeing him coldly. “But let me make something quite clear, Mr. Dixon. The only part of my father’s cattle ranch you’ll ever own is a steak dinner—and I hope it gives you a bad case of indigestion. Good day.”
The bank president’s round face and balding head turned a satisfying shade of red before Jennie headed for the door. She could hear him sputtering for a reply as she left the bank. She marched in the direction of the stage office, the heels of her boots stomping out a hard beat.
“I’d like to take a branding iron to that man,” she muttered under her breath as she wound her way along Fillmore’s storefronts.
She contemplated a number of other ways she might lower the bank president’s arrogance before her fury changed to despair. As her anger ebbed so did her determined pace and finally Jennie came to a stop at the corner of the general mercantile.
Where would she find five hundred dollars to keep her ranch? She’d barely scraped together enough cash to finance her trip to Fillmore. She had no relatives to borrow money from and couldn’t afford to sell any of their cattle, either. Since rustlers had cleaned them out of calves and half the herd in the spring, they had to keep every last cow in order to increase the number of cattle next year.
Besides, what good is a cattle ranch with no cows?
A hat display in the window beside her caught Jennie’s eye.
Latest Styles from the East,
a handwritten sign below the hats read. She loved hats—her father had always bought her a new one on his trips to Fillmore. The one she wore today, with a rounded brim and green braiding that accentuated her red hair, was the last one he’d purchased for her. That had been a little over a year ago, just before her twentieth birthday. On that occasion, he’d bought her a brooch, as well.
Jennie’s fingers went to her throat, sliding over the simple but pretty cameo her father had said reminded him of her. She could just picture him in the store, happily chatting with the clerk as he picked out gifts to bring home. She fought back the tears that sprang to her eyes at the image.
Squaring her shoulders, she stepped toward the mercantile. She couldn’t replace her father in so many ways, but at least she could look around for some small gift to bring home. The southbound stage wasn’t likely to leave for another thirty minutes or so, and she needed a diversion from her depressing thoughts. Despite her limited funds, she hoped to spare one or two coins to buy Grandma Jones and Will some candy or a penny trinket instead of bringing back only bad news.
* * *
Caleb looked up at the tinkling sound of the sleigh bells hanging from the mercantile’s doorknob and watched the young lady walk in. His time as a bounty hunter had honed his skills at taking the measure of a man—or woman—in a matter of moments, and it only took a glance for him to guess at the girl’s story.
The clothes, neat and clean but worn, made it clear that money was tight at home. But she held her head high, coffee-brown eyes sharp and keen, a nice contrast to her red hair. He read pride and determination in her posture and expression. Times might be tough, but clearly this lady wasn’t one to give up.
