Partners in Revenge (Preview)

Chapter One

Missouri, 1865

“You hear that, Cliff? If nothing goes wrong, we’ll be home by the end of next week!” Ernest announced jubilantly once he and Cliff were alone. 

“Right. If nothing goes wrong,” Cliff replied. “Which it has, since about the start of this horrific war.”

“Yeah, well… that’s war, I guess,” Ernest replied, though a shadow crossed his features as he spoke. 

It hadn’t been the experience either had expected. Ernest had said so himself, and Cliff hadn’t been surprised when he did. 

The only reason he’d enlisted was because of Ernest’s enthusiasm in doing so, and Cliff had promised their mother that he’d watch over his younger brother and bring him home safe. 

Through the treacherous months fighting the war, bringing him home alive had become a greater goal than safe, as Cliff had quickly realized there wasn’t a single thing safe about going to war. 

“How long do you reckon it’ll take us to get home from here?” Ernest asked, looking up into his brother’s eyes. Cliff was a full six years older than his twenty-year-old brother, and he was a full head taller as well. 

But the men were unmistakably brothers, with the same bright blue eyes and long, dark brown hair. They were built the same as well. Tall and broad shouldered with lean muscle. Save for the fact Cliff was taller, some might even call them twins at first glance. 

“Oh, I suppose it just depends on how many soldiers will be leaving,” Cliff replied absently, dragging his hand through his stubble. “I hear tell they’re going to open a few of the railways that have been closed, and I reckon if we can get ourselves a ticket, we’ll be home probably another week after we leave.” 

“So that’s just a little over two weeks until we get to see Ma and Pa again,” Ernest said, pure satisfaction on his face. “You reckon we’ll be called heroes when we get home?” 

“I reckon it’ll just depend on who we meet.” Cliff shrugged. “Some people call men who fight in wars heroes, some think we’re just as bad as the men who sent us to fight the war in the first place.” 

“They just don’t understand what we’re fighting for,” Ernest replied, as though he had to convince Cliff. 

But then, Cliff hadn’t really been fighting for anything in the war himself. 

Still, here they were. Only days away from the end of it all. 

It felt good, Cliff was willing to admit, knowing that he’d gotten Ernest through so much, though the thought of surviving another full week plus a few days felt almost more than he wanted to even imagine. 

Tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed for anyone, but it was even worse for someone in the midst of battle. He couldn’t even rightfully say that they’d make it to the end of the night without getting drawn into another battle, what with the gangs and rogue soldiers still fighting with everything they had left. 

Not only that, but the South still had operating generals, and one might try to make a final stand despite the end of the war looming. It was all too much for him to worry about, and he sat back in front of their tent with his arms folded. 

“Don’t get cocky,” he told Ernest. “We’ve still got almost two weeks to get through before we might be sent home. There’s too much that can go wrong during that time for me to relax.” 

“You worry too much,” Ernest told him with a mischievous smirk. “Every time you hear something loud, you assume we’re under attack.” 

“And most of the time, I’m right,” Cliff muttered, though the reaction just made his brother laugh. 

It was remarkable that Ernest could even still laugh after all they’d been through, but Cliff wouldn’t judge him for it. Though he personally felt wounded by all they’d witnessed over the past two years, he was glad his brother was still able to find some joy in life. 

The call for dinner ran through the camp, and Ernest flew to his feet. 

“’Bout time!” he exclaimed. “You want me to grab your grub, too? It’s been a long day of moving our tent all of three miles.” 

Ernest didn’t wait for a reply, turning on his heel and heading toward the meal tent. Though Cliff didn’t want to admit it, he was relieved his brother was so willing to go get his food and bring it back to him. Truth be told, he was exhausted, and not just physically. 

Time couldn’t pass quickly enough anymore. In some ways, he felt like a child counting down to a break from school, or perhaps a holiday. Except now, he was counting down to being able to live again. 

He leaned his head back against the trunk behind him, closing his eyes and waiting for his brother to return. Even if Ernest managed to get to the tent early, it was likely he’d still have to wait several minutes for their food before he’d be able to come back. 

The quiet, while unsettling, was nice. 

Until it wasn’t. 

Though Cliff couldn’t quite place his finger on the reason, he felt incredibly uneasy. He opened his eyes and looked around at the trees, feeling like he was being watched. He shifted, reaching for his gun when the first shot rang out. 

The bullet tore through the trunk just above his head, a very narrow miss. He flinched out of the way, landing on his stomach on the ground in front of his tent. 

“Shots fired! Shots fired!” 

“The enemy’s here, boys! Get to work!” 

“Returning fire!” 

The cries ran through the camp before Cliff himself had the chance to say anything. He didn’t hesitate, taking careful aim on the very first person who appeared in those trees and squeezing the trigger. 

The man fell, and Cliff was on his feet in an instant, flying through the camp toward the meal tent. 

“Ernest!” he cried. 

“Where are you going, man? You need to shoot back!” Another soldier grabbed him and whipped him back around to face the enemy. “They’ve got us surrounded!” 

The announcement made Cliff’s blood run cold, but he refused to panic. He couldn’t see Ernest anywhere, but with all the men fighting against the latest onslaught, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind over what his brother was doing. 

He just wished Ernest was next to him while doing it. 

Cliff shot several shots back before turning and running again, ignoring the protests of the man who had just grabbed him. He wasn’t going to stand next to anyone until he knew where Ernest was. 

Then Cliff saw him. 

“Ernest!” he shouted, rushing forward. He kept his gun in his hand, his heart thudding in his chest as he vaulted over a fallen supply cart. 

In the chaos, Ernest must not have been able to hear him. He watched as his younger brother shot into the trees, then turned and ran in the opposite direction. Cliff didn’t understand why Ernest seemed to be running out of the camp, and he picked up the pace to catch up to him. 

“Ern—” The word died in Cliff’s throat. 

He tripped over a root and landed on his chest, hard. He watched as the side of his brother’s head blew open, and Ernest disappeared from view. Cliff’s heart pounded so much it felt it might give out, but he still lunged to his feet and ran again, not stopping until he was kneeling next to his brother’s already lifeless body. 

“Oh, Ernest,” Cliff said, feeling the hot tears as they ran down his cheeks. “Why? Why now? Why did it have to be you?” 

Another shot rang out, snagging the side of the tree just to the left of where Cliff knelt next to his brother. A searing pain tore through his right side as wooden shrapnel from the blast sank into his face, only narrowly missing his eye. 

Large splinters of wood blew in all directions, and Cliff barely escaped being struck worse. 

He sobbed, ignoring the pain and the blood only to be dragged back to his feet by another soldier passing by. “We’ve got to keep fighting, man, or we’re all going to end up like that!” 

He glanced toward Ernest as he spoke, and Cliff had to fight for control not to punch him. Ernest shouldn’t have ended up like that. If anyone was meant to, it ought to have been Cliff. 

But he allowed himself to be pulled upward, and he fought against the enemy for all he was worth. Anger ran through his veins, making him fight like he’d never fought before. He no longer had anything to lose, and that made him incredibly dangerous. 

Yet even as he fought, the awful truth rang in his ears. Ernest was never coming back. 

Ernest was gone. 

***

Five weeks later, Cliff got off the train in Pine Falls, a small town in the heart of Minnesota. 

He looked both directions as he stepped onto the train platform, though he wasn’t really surprised to see that no one was there waiting for him. Ernest had always been his parents’ favorite, and after his death, it came as no surprise to Cliff that neither of his parents were there to meet him when he arrived home alone. 

He refused to let it get to him, shouldering the bag he had over his back and stepping off the platform, heading home. 

Pine Falls was just as he remembered, if not a little worse for the wear after the war. In many ways, the place felt exactly the same as the day he and Ernest had left, except now, people stared at him like he was some sort of apparition, and the place no longer felt like home. Not without Ernest. 

Cliff hurried to make it to his parents’ small farm. They were about two miles out of town, and he took the time walking to think of what he’d say when he got there. 

He’d written to them the night it happened, so they would know the truth by now. If they’d written back, he hadn’t received the letter, so he truly didn’t know what to expect. 

Cliff knocked on the door. He heard voices inside the cabin, and then it opened. 

“Hello, Pa,” Cliff said as his father stepped out onto the porch and gave him a hug. His father had aged in the past two years, looking ten years older than he had when Cliff and Ernest had left for the war. 

“You made it,” Pa said. “I’m so glad you’re home.” 

But there was something lacking in his tone. It was devoid of any warmth, and Cliff’s mother didn’t even bother coming to the porch at all. 

“Florence! Clifford’s home!” his father called as they stepped inside. 

“Hello, Clifford.” His mother sat stiffly in her rocking chair, looking at him the same way she had the day he’d left the henhouse unlocked and a coyote had killed all the chickens. She, too, had aged in the time Cliff had been gone. She’d aged even more than his father. 

“Hello, Ma,” Cliff replied, taking a seat next to her.

His mother glanced toward him, her eyes lingering on the large scar that ran down the side of his face. Most of the other, smaller wounds had faded, but the largest piece of shrapnel that had struck him was enough to leave a gash. 

He felt the tingling of the scar under her gaze, as though her eyes alone were enough to re-open the wound he still struggled to accept. 

“Where’s your brother?” Ma asked, ignoring his appearance and discomfort. 

The question was curt, the same tone she used when she reprimanded him for his mistakes. For a terrifying moment, Cliff worried his letter hadn’t made it to his parents’ farm, and he had to give them the news in person. 

But when Pa spoke once more, Cliff realized the letter had, in fact, arrived, and his mother was merely doing what she’d always done. The difference now was that Cliff wasn’t certain that he could handle it any longer. 

“Florence,” Pa tried again, but she gave him a scathing look in reply. 

“He left to protect Ernest, Benjamin!” she huffed. “And do you see Ernest here?” 

“I wrote to you and let you know—” Cliff started. His mother cut him off. 

“Yes, I know. You said he was shot, but you didn’t say why you let him get shot. You were supposed to protect him, Clifford, and from the looks of things, the only one you protected is yourself!” 

“Florence!” Pa tried again. His rebuke was more plea than reprimand, but the way Ma looked at him said he might as well have scolded her outright. 

“It’s alright, Pa.” Clifford held his hand up. “I understand how she feels.” 

He walked back outside, and his father soon followed. 

“You’ll have to give her time, son,” Pa said, putting a hand on Cliff’s shoulder. “I can only imagine how hard it must be for you to hear her talk to you that way after you’ve been gone so long, but she’s hurting. You know how fond she was of Ernest. That doesn’t mean she don’t love you, too, but…” 

His voice trailed off, as though he couldn’t think of anything more to say. Instead, he dragged his hand down his face. “I need to see to the chores. You boys’ bedroom is the same as it’s always been, so go ahead inside and get unpacked. I’m sure your ma will start dinner soon.” 

“Thanks,” Clifford replied, though his tone also lacked warmth. 

Even if neither of his parents were willing to admit it, Cliff clearly wasn’t welcome home. His mother was distraught over losing Ernest, and she was more preoccupied with that than she was Cliff or any of the things he’d gone through or endured himself. 

It left him feeling lonelier than he’d felt the night his brother died. The night he’d failed to keep Ernest safe. 

Cliff waited until after the awkward meal to mention to his parents that he didn’t feel like he was meant to come back home. 

“Why? That’s your room!” Pa tried, but Ma just sat silently rocking in her chair, her eyes on her feverish knitting. 

“It was our room, Pa,” Cliff replied. “And Ernest is gone. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to bring him back home, but that’s the sum of things. Now I think it’s best if I set out myself. Find a home for myself out there.” 

“Where will you go?” Pa asked, and once again, Cliff had no answer. 

“The world’s a big place, Pa,” he said, knowing that neither of his parents had ever been away from their little farm. “I know that now. There’s so many places outside of our little town. Outside Minnesota. I’ll be fine.” 

“I’m sure you will be,” Ma muttered under her breath, and Cliff pretended he hadn’t heard her. 

“If your mind is made up, then I suppose it won’t do any good trying to talk you out of it,” Pa said with a tone of resignation. “When will you be leaving?” 

Guilt ran through him, but Cliff wasn’t going to let that keep him in the same house as his mother when he could plainly see how much his presence was causing her pain. 

“Tomorrow, I reckon,” he said. “I didn’t unpack my things, and I won’t tonight. I’ll stay the rest of the day and leave after breakfast and chores in the morning.”

Chapter Two

Three years later

The Rockies, 1868

“That’s it! Good girl, Missy!” Virginia praised as the little farm dog helped her herd the sheep back into the corral. 

The sheep were far from happy, but Missy ate up the praise by barking and flopping onto her back, showing the world her belly and thumping her bushy tail on the ground while her tongue lolled out of her mouth. 

“Your hard work is paying off with that dog,” Sam, the farm hand, commented on his way past. 

“You said it only takes consistency,” Virginia replied, patting her dog’s head before rising. “What are you doing? Do you need help?” 

“Just going to reshoe one of the horses,” Sam said. “I noticed old Bill was throwing his shoe yesterday, and I’d like to get that done before it gives him any real trouble.” 

“Do you want help?” Virginia asked again. 

“Don’t need it, but thank you,” Sam told her. “It’s really the work for one man, even if you do know what you’re doing.” 

Virginia grinned because it was true. She could shoe a horse as well as any man. She could ride as well as a man, too. Years of working on the farm had given her many skills, and she was proud of them. 

Still, hearing someone like Sam tell her she was good at something meant the world to her. He’d been like a much older brother to her since the day she was born, and she valued his opinions greatly. 

“I think I’ll go inside and make Pa’s favorite for dinner,” she said. “Fried chicken and dumplings.” 

“That sounds mighty fine, Miss Virginia,” Sam replied. “Your cooking has gotten as good as your ma’s these days.” 

“Do you mean that?” Virginia asked, her voice catching in her throat. 

Ma had been gone for almost ten years, and Virginia aspired to be just like her. She’d learned everything she knew in the kitchen from her mother, taking over the responsibility when she was only twelve. 

She particularly wanted to impress her father with her cooking, especially since his health had been failing the past couple years. The doctor said there was something wrong with his heart, but he couldn’t quite say what. 

As a result, Virginia tried to make him as happy and comfortable as possible. She was eager to take on as much of the work around the farm as he’d allow, and she followed her mother’s style of cooking almost to the letter. 

“Of course I mean it,” Sam told her. “I wouldn’t say something that important without reason.” 

“You know I’ll make enough for you, too,” she teased, and he nodded. 

“You always do.” 

Virginia picked up a hatchet, already knowing which of the birds she’d select for the night’s dinner, and she disappeared around the corner of the chicken coop. Her experienced hands made preparing the chicken quick and easy, and within the hour, she was back inside the house and pulling out the other ingredients she needed for the meal. 

But then she heard voices coming from her father’s study. At first, she tried to ignore them, as it wasn’t any of her business what her father was doing. Until she recognized the second voice in the room. 

It belonged to Mr. Leonard Hudson, the local cattle baron. He was the man Pa sold his cattle to, so it wasn’t entirely a surprise that the man had come to pay a visit. He would often visit the farms and ranches of the men who supplied to him. Or so he said. 

Virginia had come to loathe his visits. She disliked Leonard for a variety of reasons, with most of them being the way he treated the world around him. While she couldn’t hear what was being said, she could hear that the voices inside the study weren’t happy. 

In fact, it sounded like an argument, and that made her blood boil. Didn’t Mr. Hudson know that Pa had a weak heart? There was no reason to be in his study upsetting him. 

“Pa?” she asked, walking toward his door softly. 

Virginia was cautious. Though she and her father were close, she knew there were plenty of things that her father didn’t want her to concern herself with. She didn’t need to be present for certain business dealings her father made.

It wasn’t that he was doing anything wrong, but he didn’t want his daughter to know the house’s finances. It was something she’d heard him tell her mother years ago before she’d passed away. It was also something that Virginia wished her father would be more open with her about now that she was in her twenties, but she knew better than to press. 

If it wasn’t her business, then it wasn’t her business. And she didn’t want to overstep by eavesdropping just outside the door when her father was having what appeared to be an important discussion. 

“I just don’t understand,” Pa was saying. “Why now? It seems to be coming out of nowhere.” 

“Because things have changed, that’s why,” Mr. Hudson replied, his voice just as low despite the fact both men were clearly angry. “It’s not going to change anything. I’m surprised at you fighting me on this, Charles. I really thought you would be more reasonable.” 

“Reasonable!” Pa cried. “You come into my house and make outlandish requests, then you tell me I’m the one who’s not being reasonable! I already told you, my answer is that I’m not comfortable with it, and I’m the one who gets to make that decision.” 

“Well, would you mind if I spoke with her directly?” Mr. Hudson said, and Virginia’s heart leaped. Was this discussion about her? Why would it be? 

And why would Pa be so upset by it?

“Mind? Of course I’d mind!” Pa snapped, his hushed tone barely contained. It wouldn’t take much longer before he started yelling outright, and there would be no way for her to keep from hearing something. 

Suspecting now that they were talking about her, she was interested to know what was being said. 

“You come in here and make this request, and I tell you that I don’t want it to happen, so you want to talk to my daughter directly. That seems like you’re trying to go behind my back to get what you want—which is what you always do to get your way, isn’t it, Leonard!” 

“Don’t you dare call me crooked!” Mr. Hudson shot back. “If you thought that of me, Charles, then why would you do business with me all these years?” 

“It’s not about you being crooked, it’s about you not respecting the wishes of the person you ask something of,” Pa replied, his tone cooler than before. “You’re not going to go to Virginia. In fact, you’re not going to take even a step near my daughter, or I’ll make sure you pay dearly for it.” 

“This doesn’t need to turn into threats now, does it?” Mr. Hudson asked, and Virginia couldn’t take it any longer. 

The longer she stood outside that door, the guiltier she felt. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but that was exactly what she was doing. And she couldn’t bear hearing her father grow increasingly upset with their visitor, knowing Mr. Hudson would likely keep pushing until her father gave in to whatever demand he’d made. 

And with her father’s weak heart, Virginia worried that he would work himself into a frenzy before he stopped to breathe. She couldn’t in good conscience allow that. 

“Pa!” she cried, pushing the door open. 

It was then that she saw Mr. Hudson, and that he’d brought two of his men with him. The extra men infuriated her further, seeing that her poor father had been sitting in a room in his own home outnumbered by a far richer man and his two bodyguards. The thought was enough to make her stomach churn, and she almost turned on him herself. 

But before she had the chance to say anything else, her father yelled at Mr. Hudson. 

“You can’t take my daughter!” The words were laced with anger, among other emotions, and Mr. Hudson didn’t seem to know how to respond. He took a step back, but at that very moment, Pa let out a wheeze that made Virginia’s blood run cold. 

His hand went to his chest, and he fell to his knees. 

“Pa! Pa! No!” Virginia cried as she dropped to her own knees beside him. “Breathe. You have to breathe. What have you done?” 

She directed the question at the three other men in the room, her voice cracking with emotion. “He has a weak heart! You have no right to come in here and upset him like this!” 

She didn’t wait for an answer, turning back to her father as he gasped on the ground. “Pa! Please, Pa! Sam! Sam, come quick! We have to fetch the doctor!” 

It broke her heart to see that none of the other men in the room were concerned enough about her father to move. They all stood silently by, watching as he collapsed, then as he closed his eyes and rolled back on the floor. 

None moved to get the doctor. None stepped in to try to help him. 

“I’m very sorry about all this,” Mr. Hudson said when Pa stopped moving. “But this is a most urgent matter.” 

“Urgent enough that you killed my pa?” she cried. “How dare you?” 

“I just need to have a word with you,” Mr. Hudson said. “And trust me, I’ll make sure I have men come out here to help with a proper funeral. This is all just awful, and the longer it drags on, the more trouble comes of it.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Virginia hissed. “But I’m not going with you! I don’t know and I don’t care! I’m not going!” 

“You might want to at least entertain the idea,” Mr. Hudson pressed. “I’m sure with a little discussion, you’ll be more than happy to do what I’m asking.” 

Virginia just so happened to look over her shoulder at that moment. Mr. Hudson was nodding to one of his men, who was silently stepping forward, as though to grab her. Fear sliced through the grief that had seized her, and she turned and fled, her heart breaking further to leave her father lying on that cold wooden floor. 

“Don’t let her get away!” Mr. Hudson cried. 

The fear nearly turned to panic as she rushed out the door. She fled through the kitchen, closing that door behind her before the man could grab her. It would only hold him for a second, so she was relieved when Missy came flying toward the back door of the house, barking wildly. 

“Good girl, keep them back,” she ordered the dog. She’d seen Missy wrestle with cattle that were far bigger than any man, so she knew her dog wouldn’t be afraid to keep those men in the kitchen for as long as possible. 

Virginia fled to the barn where Sam had been busy with the horse. He stepped outside, a bewildered expression on his face when she pointed back to the house. 

“Pa… he’s dead!” she sobbed as the older farm hand put his hands on her shoulders and tried to steady her. 

“Dead! What are you talking about? What’s going on?” he demanded. “Are you hurt?” 

Virginia closed her eyes and shook her head, fighting to get enough air in her lungs to talk. 

“Mr. Hudson was in the study with two men, and they upset Pa so much that his heart done gave out. I tried to help him, but—” 

“And they didn’t help? Didn’t send for the doctor?” Sam demanded, and Virginia could only look up into his face with her eyes filled with tears. She shook her head, angrily dragging her hand down her cheeks. 

“And now they’re trying to get to me, too,” she cried when she heard Missy’s barks growing more frantic. “Mr. Hudson said I was going with him, and one of those awful men tried to grab me!” 

“You have to get out of here,” Sam said without a moment of hesitation. “Take Blaze and ride as far from here as you can go.” 

“Where should I go?” Virginia demanded, her panic returning as the farm hand grabbed the already saddled horse and led him to the front of the barn. 

“Anywhere but here,” he said. “Keep running. I’ll keep ’em off as long as I can, then I’ll figure out how to find you. But don’t you come back, you hear?” 

Virginia nodded, her chest clenching with emotion as she climbed into the saddle. 

“You’re not going to let them kill you, too, are you?” she sobbed. “I can’t bear it. I already lost Ma and Pa, and I can’t lose you, too!” 

“I’ll hold them off,” Sam said again, though his words did little to bring her any comfort. “Your pa clearly didn’t want you to go with him, or he wouldn’t have been so upset. Now get out of here before his death is in vain.” 

Virginia nodded again, sending Blaze forward. 

She turned down the drive and headed for the road, but Sam yelled at her to hide. 

“Stay away from the roads and use the trails!” he shouted after her. “And don’t stop riding, whatever you do!” 

Virginia chanced to look back, but she couldn’t see any sort of fight, Sam was on his way to the back of the house, and he looked angry. Virginia hated leaving him, and she wished there was some way she might be able to come back and make sure he was alright. But all she could do was breathe a silent prayer to God above that He would keep the older man safe. 

And that He would bring Pa into His arms with joy. 

Tears stung her eyes as she urged her horse into a gallop. Experienced as she was, she easily veered away from the roads and onto the first trail she found. Only when she left the road did she look back to make sure no one was following her. 

To her relief, for the moment, no one had. But that was only a small victory. She didn’t slow her horse, keeping him running as fast as he could into the trees and away from the only home she had ever known. 

The world suddenly felt far too big and far too cruel, and she choked on her sobs as she clung to the saddle horn to keep from falling. 

“I won’t let your death be in vain, Pa,” she muttered as she rode. “No matter what, I’m never going with Mr. Hudson. I don’t know what he wanted, and I don’t care. He took you from me, and now he’ll never see me again.” 

The afternoon sun felt altogether too hot, but Virginia kept riding. She couldn’t stop, couldn’t wait. She’d made a promise, and she meant to keep it no matter what she had to do.

Clouds were quickly growing in the west, meaning a thunderstorm was likely brewing, but even that didn’t slow her. 

She’d ride into hell itself if she had to.