Chapter 1 
Chapter 1 The stagecoach rocked like a ship on a stormy sea, and it was all Elizabeth Colton could do to keep from being tossed from her seat.
The constant rattles and groans gave her no confidence in the stage’s integrity. She feared it would fall apart or, at the very least, the wheels would fall off. Her fear only increased when the coach hit a deep rut in the road and leaned precariously to the side.
Jarred to the bones, Elizabeth sprawled across the seat like a gangly colt and held on for dear life.
As the lone passenger, she made no attempt at decorum. Her feathered hat had tumbled off her head three hair-raising turns ago and now skittered across the floor like an inebriated chicken. The skirt of her blue traveling suit was in disarray, and strands of auburn hair had come loose from her bun.
Just as she thought she could hold on no longer, the coach mercifully straightened. Taking advantage of the reprieve, she pulled herself upright and gasped for air. Hand on her chest to calm her racing heart, she moved the leather curtain aside and peered out the window. Miles of desolate landscape stretched out for as far as the eye could see.
Every horror story she’d ever heard about Indians and outlaws came back to haunt her. While still at home, it was easy to discount such tales, but here in the wilderness she imagined danger behind every bush and rocky outcrop.
Her fiancé had assured her in his letters that such tales had been greatly exaggerated, but then he’d also described Texas in glowing terms. That alone put his credibility in question. The spacious skies and wide-open spaces he’d written about held no appeal for her, and already she missed her hometown of Dayton, Ohio.
Elizabeth dropped the leather curtain in place with a sigh. Never had she imagined herself a mail-order bride. But at age twenty-four, it was either leave her hometown or remain single. Most of Dayton’s eligible bachelors had answered the call of the wild and traveled west. The few men left behind were either already married or old enough to be her grandfather.
She opened her purse and pulled out the last letter written from the man she agreed to marry. His name was Ben Heywood, and he was a lawyer.
She studied the photograph he’d sent. He really was a good-looking man—handsome even. He was clean shaven and had nice eyes. He also had strong cheekbones, a straight nose, and a firm chin. Though he looked serious, she imagined he also had a nice smile.
It worried her that he’d written so highly about his accomplishments. Nothing she hated more than a braggart, but maybe he had just been trying to impress her.
She really had nothing to complain about. His last letter had included money to pay for her journey. He’d sent enough to pay for a train ticket, but her thrifty mind opted to travel by the more economical stagecoach. After seventeen days of misery, it was a decision she now regretted.
Included in the letter were implicit instructions on what to do upon reaching Prickly Pear. She only hoped the town was friendlier than it sounded by name. She also prayed her intended was as kind and good-hearted as his letters suggested.
Such were her thoughts, that it took a moment before she realized the stagecoach had slowed.
A male voice shouted, “Halt!” and the stagecoach rolled to a stop.
She stuffed the letter back into her purse and peeked through the window. A single man on horseback was talking to the driver. She couldn’t see his face or tell if he was wearing a mask. Nor could she hear what he was saying.
All she knew for sure was that the man sat tall and assured in a saddle, his shoulders seeming to strain the seams of his shirt. From the back, he looked like a force to be reckoned with, and her mind leaped to a startling conclusion: he was a highwayman come to rob them. Gasping, she drew away from the window.
Who else would stop a stage in the middle of nowhere except someone meaning to do harm?
Heart pounding, she unsnapped her purse and pulled out the derringer hidden inside. It was a good thing she had thought to carry a weapon. A woman traveling alone out west couldn’t be too careful.
Swallowing hard in an effort not to panic, she straightened her skirt and held her cocked weapon pointed at the door, finger on the trigger. Trying to still her shaky hands, she whispered a silent prayer. God wouldn’t have brought her way out here to meet with an unpleasant end, would He?
Nerves taut, she sat frozen in place. She didn’t have much of value on her person, but it wasn’t her jewels that worried her; it was her virtue.
The door of the stage suddenly flew open. With a cry of alarm, she jumped, and her gun went off. Though the small pistol delivered a low recoil, it was enough to make her drop the weapon and rear back in her seat.
The man’s startled blue eyes met hers. Their gazes locked for a moment before he gripped his upper arm and pulled his bloody hand away. He tried to speak, but nothing came out of his mouth. Instead, he grimaced and sank ever so slowly to the ground.