Her Secret Name Was Vengeance (Preview)

Chapter One

Black Hills, South Dakota
1886

Suffocating heat hovered in the air. It beat down from the sun and rose from the ground, meeting somewhere in a blurry middle. 

Jolene Wyley rode behind her father, watching as he sat stoically in the saddle. His broad shoulders were squared, and his back was straight. His hat was pulled low over his eyes while his kerchief was up over his mouth and nose, keeping out the dust of the trail. 

Jolene tried to sit up taller in her own saddle. Her dark hair was piled atop her head, held in place with her own hat pulled low over her brow. She, too, had a kerchief pulled up over her mouth and nose, trying to make the trip a little more bearable in the dry air. 

At seventeen, she was growing into a beautiful young woman, but she wasn’t happy about it. She was soft and gentle in appearance, but her father was downright intimidating. 

Randal Wyley, her father, was one of the most notorious bounty hunters in the entire West. He was brave and bold, hunting down the worst of the worst. It was said that there was nothing in the world that could stop Randal once he got on someone’s trail, and Jolene wanted to be just like him. 

Her entire life, it had been just her and her father, and she strove to make him proud. One day, she’d be a feared bounty hunter, too. Even as a woman, she would have criminals shaking in their boots when they heard she was on their trail. She’d be the reason they laid awake at night, hoping the sounds in the woods around them weren’t coming from her. 

But, as a woman, she’d already come to learn that she wouldn’t get the same respect as her father. It didn’t matter if he was present or she was alone, she was treated as a child before, then as nothing more than a feeble female now. 

“This ain’t fair! It ain’t right!” The words quickly became garbled as her father’s horse shifted, causing the speaker to shift as well. 

The bound and gagged man on the back of her father’s horse continued to complain and curse as he bounced along. His hands were tied behind his back, his legs were bound, and he had a rope gag through his lips. His statement was one of the only things Jolene had been able to make out, as the rope made it difficult to understand most of what left his lips. 

“Whoa, there,” Randal said to his horse, pulling the animal to a halt. 

Jolene rode up alongside, pulling her own horse to a stop as she surveyed the expansive landscape ahead. Her eyes scanned the dusty plains directly before them, then the rise of the sprawling mountains in the distance. 

Crossing the Black Hills wasn’t easy for anyone, and she worried it would be even harder with their protesting prisoner. She remained silent at first, but then she looked from the angry man up to her father. 

“How far to Garrison?” she asked. “I thought we’d be there by now.” 

“No, not yet.” Her father shook his head. “It’s on the other side of that peak.” He nodded toward the horizon, and Jolene followed his gaze. 

She didn’t know whether to call the peak a large hill or a small mountain, but either way, it was a trek. 

“How long?” she asked. 

“I’d say about half a day, maybe a little longer,” her father said plainly. He looked over his shoulder at the prisoner. “What do you say, Blackrivers? Can you hang out for another few hours?” 

John Blackrivers let out another slew of curse words, though Jolene only understood about half of what he said. 

Randal appeared entertained by the response as he looked from the outlaw back to his daughter. “I’ll take that as a yes. What do you think?” 

“He’s not happy, that’s what I think,” Jolene commented, keeping her voice steady despite the way the prisoner glared daggers at her. She didn’t want to admit he made her nervous, but secretly she was glad that her father was present. 

She’d have to get over those kinds of nerves if she would make a good bounty hunter herself. But then, there was no reason to think that she’d ever go out on her own. She and her father made an excellent team. They’d be even better the longer they stuck together. 

“They never are,” Randal told her, turning his attention back to the space ahead. 

“What did he do?” Jolene asked. “It’s been bothering me all day.” 

“Him?” Randal glanced back over his shoulder. Blackrivers continued to writhe against his binds, but he wasn’t going anywhere. “He killed a whole bunch of people. Evidently, he attacked that Indian boarding school over this way. Teachers and students died. Didn’t just kill Indians, neither. White folks died, too.”

“That so?” Jolene looked at Blackrivers with horror. The thought of anyone attacking a boarding school of all places made her sick to her stomach. 

“Yeah,” her father confirmed.

Her heart twisted. She’d never let her emotions get in the way of her job, but there were moments when the horrors she faced caught up with her. She didn’t want to picture what that must have been like, but her brain flashed images across her mind before she could even try to stop it. 

Some men were simply evil, there was no other way about it. 

“I did no such thing!” Blackrivers yelled. 

Jolene looked back at him in surprise. He’d somehow managed to get his gag loose, and he was using the sudden freedom to tell both her and her father exactly what he thought of the entire situation. 

“I didn’t do anything! You’ve got the wrong man!” he informed them. 

“Hush you,” Randal said, groaning when Blackrivers started yelling. “It was hard enough getting that gag in the first time around, don’t make me have to do it again.” 

“Then don’t gag me!” he hissed. 

“I won’t if you shut the hell up. But if you’re going to sit back there and carry on like that, then I’m putting in another gag. A thicker one that makes it so you can’t speak at all,” Randal threatened. 

He gave Jolene an apologetic look. “Unless you want me to go ahead and gag him. He’s known to talk a lot.” 

“How would you even know that?” Blackrivers demanded. 

“It’s my job to know things,” Randal said with a cheerful laugh. “I know who I’m going after. It’s how I catch them.” 

“And what does how much I talk have to do with anything?” Blackrivers doubled down. 

“You never know what detail’s going to help you catch someone,” Randal replied with a small shrug. He looked back at Jolene. “Remember that. Keep your eyes and ears open on the trail of anyone, and remember the little things. You never know when that’s what’ll bring someone in. Or even save your life.” 

Jolene nodded solemnly. She took all her father’s advice like it was pure gold. 

“You know,” Randal continued, shifting in his saddle, “it’s high time you learned how to turn someone in.” 

“You think so?” Jolene asked, trying not to let her excitement show. “You think I’m ready?” 

“I think there’s no better time than the present to learn,” Randal replied. “So I’ll tell you what. When we get to Garrison, I want you to be the one to turn him in. You think you could handle it?” 

“Oh yes, Pa!” Jolene cried. “I mean…” She bit her lower lip as she thought. “If you tell me what to do, I know I can handle it. I know I can!” 

“What!” Blackrivers cried. “You’re going to have some girl turn me in! That’s just adding insult on top of everything else!” 

“It’ll be even more insulting if she hands you in with a gag still in your mouth,” Randal warned over his shoulder. “And if you don’t hush up, I’ll tell them she’s the one who put the gag in herself. Now what do you think of that?” 

Randal laughed again at the chagrined look on Blackrivers’ face, but at least the man stopped talking. 

“Come on, then. Time waits for no one,” Randal said, sending his horse forward. The next two hours were spent in silence as they crossed the wide, flat space between where they were and the mountains ahead. 

The hot sun beat upon them, and Jolene fought to keep from complaining. John Blackrivers was doing enough complaining for everyone, and she didn’t want to add to his noise. She couldn’t decide if she was pleased with the response he’d given when he’d found out she’d turn him in. 

On the one hand, she felt powerful. She felt proud that her father thought she was ready. But she was nervous. It didn’t seem to matter what she did, she’d never get the same respect from anyone that her father did. 

Maybe when she was the one turning in the criminals, that would change. 

A trailhead appeared, and her father didn’t slow. He rode right toward it, and Jolene suspected they would be taking that path up the side of the mountain. Even from as far back as they were, she could see that the trail quickly became treacherous. 

Her father was practiced enough to keep Blackrivers on the back of his horse as he traversed the narrow trail, but it made her wonder how she’d handle a similar situation if she was alone. It was something to consider. 

The horses just started up the trail when her father suddenly held out his hand, stopping her. 

“What is it?” she called. 

“Riders coming,” Randal said over his shoulder. “Pull off to the side.” 

He motioned with his hand, and she turned her horse to the side of the trail. At first, she couldn’t see who was approaching, but it didn’t take long for three riders to appear. 

The trio was comprised of two young Native men, and an older White man. The older man had a thin figure, a birdlike nose, and a shock of gray hair poking out from under his hat. 

He had frightening, cataract ridden eyes, and something about him unsettled Jolene. She didn’t like the way he looked toward her, though she fought to keep from showing any sort of discomfort. 

She was surprised when her father greeted the man. 

“Martin Fairweather, is that you?” her father asked. “Good afternoon!” 

“Randal Wyley?” Martin asked, his head snapping up toward her father’s face. “I didn’t know you were anywhere near these parts. Last I heard, you were down in Texas.” 

“We came up this way last summer,” her father said. “Chased someone clear up to these parts, and I guess you could say we never left. Didn’t know they let you out of prison.” 

“I did my time for my crimes,” Martin said, and Jolene was even less impressed with him. She wondered what he’d done to wind up in prison, and more than that, how he’d managed to get out. 

But her father wasn’t the sort to hold a man’s past against him. He didn’t take crimes as personal offenses, and if someone was let out, he took that as a sign of reformation. 

Jolene wasn’t so certain.  

Martin sat almost hunched over in his saddle, his milky gaze drifting around him as though he felt he was being watched. His head jerked about with a shiftiness that told her he didn’t trust anyone, and somehow the gesture made her feel distrustful of him as a result. 

As her father spoke, he nodded over his shoulder toward Blackrivers, who had fallen oddly quiet. Blackrivers remained still as a corpse, draped over the back of the horse like a sack of potatoes. Gone was the man who had been fighting and thrashing just moments before. 

“Wherever there’s people, there’s going to be outlaws,” Martin said. 

The older man looked serious as he cocked his head to one side. “You trying to get to Garrison?” 

“We are,” her father said. “He’s wanted there for murder.”

Jolene glanced toward Blackrivers, who still remained oddly silent. 

“You’re not going to get through that way,” Martin replied, nodding back up the trail. “We were with a larger group of people but turned back when we got a couple miles in.” 

“What’s going on?” Randal asked, leaning in his saddle, as though he might be able to see something that he couldn’t from where he was sitting before. 

“There was quite the rockslide a few days ago,” Martin said. “Not sure what happened, but it’s run over the whole trail. Not entirely impassible, but I wouldn’t recommend it with a woman and a prisoner.” 

Jolene bristled at the comment but said nothing. She wasn’t about to argue with the unsettling fellow, and she’d leave it up to her father to decide the way they took anyway. Though there was a part of her that wanted to prove she could make it now that he’d said she couldn’t. 

“That so?” her father asked. “Alright. Might not be worth the effort to get around that way. There’s another trail, isn’t there?” 

“Just go along this way,” Martin said, motioning with his hand. “Instead of taking the left, keeping going straight. It’ll add maybe four or five hours to the trip, but it’s better than having to get over those rocks if you ask me.” 

“Much obliged,” her father said, touching the tip of his hat. “I suppose I’ll be seeing you around if you stay in the area. Stay out of trouble.” 

“Perhaps,” the spooky man replied. He looked over his shoulder and said something to the two men with him that Jolene didn’t catch. They were also frightening in their own right, and she was glad they didn’t give her any more than a glance. 

“Take care,” her father said, holding up his hand. 

Martin and his two companions nodded in response, then they kept moving down the trail. Jolene sat silently in her saddle as they passed, not even bothering to look at them as they nearly ran into each other in the narrow space. 

Then they were gone just as suddenly as they’d appeared. 

“You hear that?” Randal asked, looking at her. “Sounds like the trail’s been blocked. What do you say? Go that way or the way around?” 

We should go the way we planned. A few rocks aren’t going to stop us. 

“Whatever you think is best, Pa,” Jolene told him with a trusting smile. 

“Think we should go the long way around,” he replied after taking a moment to think it through. “That alright with you?” He posed the question to Blackrivers, who’d started carrying on again as soon as those other men had left. 

Jolene said nothing as she once more followed her father up the trail, ready to take the long way around. But she couldn’t help but look over her shoulder, her eyes falling on the backs of those men as they disappeared in the other direction. 

There was something off about them, though she couldn’t quite place her finger on what was wrong. They left her feeling uneasy. 

She was glad to leave them behind.

Chapter Two

“I’m just not convinced that the trail really is impassible,” Jolene admitted at last. 

She’d been silent and feeling deeply unsettled since leaving those men behind, and her father noticed. At first, she’d just brushed it off as nothing, but when he kept pressing to know what was on her mind, she finally told him. 

“I didn’t care for the way that man looked at you. Or me,” she said. 

“Fairweather?” her father asked. “Don’t blame you. He’s a liar. Not anyone I’ve ever taken in, but I know he did a few years in prison.” 

“Has he ever killed anyone?” she asked uncertainly. 

“Not that I know of,” Randal said. “At any rate, they’re long gone now.” 

But Jolene wasn’t so sure. She looked around, feeling as though the trees themselves were whispering to her. She felt uneasy, as though they were being watched, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. 

“It just bothers me thinking that he might have told us to go the wrong way on purpose,” she said at last. “Suppose there’s nothing at all wrong with the trail, and he sent us this way for some other reason.” 

“Both ways lead to Garrison,” Randal replied. “Maybe he did lie, but even if he did, he’s not keeping us from getting there. I’m not worried about it.” 

“But shouldn’t you be?” Jolene asked. “He might be telling us to go this way to keep us from discovering some crime being committed the shorter way!” 

“He might be,” her father agreed. “And if that’s the case, then he’s doing us a favor. We already have a prisoner, and trying to wrangle more isn’t what I’d like to do right now.” 

“Suppose he’s trying to trick us. Or suppose—”

“Jolene,” her father said sternly, “you can’t let your fear get the better of you. It’s one thing to be vigilant and pay attention to the world around you, and it’s another to let fretting run away on you.” 

She pursed her lips in response. Though she didn’t care at all for Blackrivers, it bothered her that her father had scolded her in front of the man. He didn’t say anything, but she could only imagine the smug way he must be feeling in that moment. 

She wanted to say something to him, but she held her tongue. There was no need to take her frustration out on someone who was bound hand and foot and draped over the back of a horse. 

“Now, why don’t we do something to get your mind off it?” her father suggested. “Tell me how to find a US Marshal the quickest way possible.” 

Jolene answered the question, then she answered the next question he posed. It wasn’t uncommon for her father to quiz her as they rode along, ensuring she knew what to do no matter what sort of situation she found herself in. 

But even as her mind searched for answers for her father’s scenarios, she listened for any indication they might be followed. 

She didn’t hear anything, but nothing soothed the spooked feeling running through her. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and she hated that she couldn’t officially determine why. 

Then she saw it. 

Above them, along the rocky ridge, was a figure. She didn’t get a good look at who or what it was, but the glance told her that he was Native. He looked young and shady… just like those two men who had been with Fairweather earlier. 

But was she paranoid? Was she seeing what was there, or what she wanted to see?

“Pa!” she called softly. 

Her heart thudded, and she wanted to yell. Panic threatened to set in, but she refused to let it happen. She wouldn’t make a fool of herself by overreacting when there wasn’t reason. 

There was something out there, but she was already spooked. There wasn’t any reason to overreact. 

Her father looked back, then followed where she indicated. He then looked back to her with a small nod. “I noticed already.” 

She didn’t know what to make of his response. Of course he’d already seen them, but he hadn’t bothered to tell her. At the same time, his expression was next to impossible to read, as though he was worried and didn’t want to let on that he was. 

Jolene’s tried to focus on the trail and staying behind her father, but her eyes kept going back to the ridge line. It wasn’t often, but the occasional glance she managed to get of the figure above convinced her that it was indeed one of the Natives they’d seen before. 

“Pa, that’s one of those men,” she said. 

“I know,” her father replied, and her blood ran cold. But then it got worse. “There’s two up there.” 

“Both of them?” she asked. 

“So it seems,” he said. He looked back over his shoulder at her. “Stay close. And no matter what, stay calm.” 

Jolene nodded, but her heart rate had already picked up. She hadn’t liked those men from the moment they’d crossed paths, and now that she was seeing she’d been right, she felt worse. 

She wanted to ask her father for comfort, for support. But there was an edge to his voice that bothered her. It made her think he was worried he might have made a mistake. And the thought of her father making a mistake terrified her. 

“Do you remember how to handle your pistol in a gunfight?” he asked suddenly. 

“Pa?” she asked. 

“Answer me!” he hissed. 

“Yes,” she said nervously. “I think so.” 

“Just do as we’ve practiced,” he said. “Don’t hesitate to pull the trigger. Aim just like I showed you, and above all, don’t be afraid.” 

Jolene wanted to tell him that she wasn’t afraid, but that was a lie. She was terrified. Her palms grew sweaty around the reins, and her breath came in short, raspy gasps as she glanced back toward the ridge. 

I will stay calm. No matter what happens, I will stay calm!

The thought had no sooner run through her mind than a cry rang out. It sounded like a Native war cry, and it struck her with fear. 

Her eyes went wide, and she looked wildly about, realizing that the cry rang off the various boulders and rocks that dotted the trail. She looked back up at the ridge just in time to see that not two, but three Natives stood above, brandishing rifles. 

“There’s more of them, Pa!” she shouted, fear getting the better of her. “Look! And they’ve got guns!” 

“Stay calm,” her father ordered. “And be ready!” 

She yanked her gun out of its holster, willing her hand to steady. Her eyes went back to the ridge, but then she heard something else and whipped around in the saddle. Her heart sank when she saw three, no, four more men coming from behind. 

Martin Fairweather was in the lead, and three Natives were with him. They, too, had guns in their hands, and even from a distance, Jolene was convinced she saw nothing but murder in their eyes. 

“Pa!” she cried again. She’d never felt so helpless before, and she wanted nothing more than to get herself under control. 

She’d dreamed of being able to handle herself in such a situation, and she’d forever been confident that she could hold her own just as much as any man. But it was the first time she’d ever been under direct attack, and she had no idea what to do. 

“Jolene!” her father cried. 

She whipped back to face him, but he had already turned his horse around and was riding in the opposite direction, heading back down the trail. As soon as he was behind her, he yanked on the reins, turning the horse so it was between her and those riders. 

Her heart leaped to her throat as her father yanked out his rifle, and she briefly held his eye contact. She didn’t want to believe he was scared, but she couldn’t deny what she saw in his eyes. 

“Shoot, Jolene, shoot,” he ordered. “It’s them or us.” 

The statement made her blood turn to ice in her veins, and for a brief moment, her hands went numb. It was the first time in her life that Jolene worried about what might happen should she handle her weapon poorly. She could shoot, but she’d never shot a human before, and her stomach clenched with fear. 

She couldn’t panic, not now. Not when her father depended on her to act. 

She lifted her gun and aimed, pulling the trigger. Tree bark flew from the trunks when she missed her mark, but she refused to be discouraged. 

“Get away from us!” she heard herself screaming, not even realizing that she was talking until her throat stung from the effort. 

She saw one man fall, but it wasn’t her bullet that had caused it. Her father was far calmer than she was, and he managed to shoot another man while she reloaded her gun. 

“Aim and shoot,” he told her. His voice was remarkably steady, and she found it incredibly soothing in the heat of the moment. 

She nodded, lifting her gun and aiming once more. That time, she pulled the trigger and her bullet found its mark. The Native screamed in both pain and rage as the bullet sank into his chest, and he plummeted from the saddle. 

She cried out, both in relief and shock at the sight. She’d never shot anyone before in her life, and she was pretty sure she’d just killed that man. It wasn’t murder, it was self-defense, but that didn’t take away from the shock of the moment. 

“There’s more!” her father shouted, seemingly noticing that she had frozen after she shot the man. 

Jolene nodded, lifting her gun and shooting again. She aimed and pulled the trigger again and again, but she didn’t have the same luck as before. What was wrong? Did her hand shake too much? Was she trying too hard?

Another shot rang out, and that time, it was her father who shouted. He didn’t sound hurt, but she couldn’t be certain with the chaos that was unfolding around her. 

Jolene whipped around in the saddle, trying to see where her father had gone. They’d gotten separated in the firefight, and he had momentarily left her line of sight. 

She rode around the curve in the trail, seeing that her father’s horse had been struck. From the way the animal pitched forward, there was no doubt in her mind that it was dead before it even hit the ground. 

It pitched off the side of the trail, throwing both her father and Blackrivers off its back. 

“Pa!” Jolene screamed as she sent her horse forward, harder than before.

The downhill side of the trail was steep, and the dead horse’s body was plummeting down the side, crashing through bushes and knocking through small trees. Her father and Blackrivers were also falling, and either or both could easily be terribly injured or even killed. 

She didn’t care a thing if Blackrivers got himself killed, but she was terrified for her father’s safety. She leaped from the back of her mount, jumping off the trail and halfway running, halfway falling down the hillside. 

“Pa!” she called again. 

Her father’s horse’s body had gotten caught between two trees, and her father was hunched behind it. At first, Jolene was horrified, thinking her father must have been killed, but then, he groaned. 

“I’m here, Pa, I’m here,” she said, grabbing his shoulders. “Where are you hurt? Did you get shot?” 

She fired off the questions without waiting for a response in between. Her heart was in her throat, and she once again feared she couldn’t feel her hands. 

“Throw your guns here!” a voice ordered. 

Jolene froze. By jumping off her horse and going after her father, she’d forgotten that those other men were out there. 

They’d caught up, and they had their weapons pointed right at her and Randal both. 

“Throw the weapons!” Martin ordered again. “Or I’ll shoot you right now!” 

Jolene glared. So many things ran through her mind in that moment, but she knew she was powerless. The only option she had was to obey, or they’d kill her and her father without another thought. 

There was a good chance that they might just kill her anyway. That was what outlaws did. 

She threw the gun. “There!” she shouted. “We don’t have anything of value!” 

“It’s not money we’re after,” Martin told her with a wicked grin. “Value is in the eye of the beholder, my dear.” 

Jolene continued glaring at him. Her father was moaning something, but his eyes were closed, and Jolene could feel him getting heavier with each passing second. He was losing consciousness, likely from the blood loss. 

Then her heart sank. 

Martin raised his gun, aiming it directly at Jolene. “Shame that I have to kill a pretty thing like you,” he said. “But that’s what you get when you try to hunt monsters!” 

She recoiled as the gunshot rang out but then realized he hadn’t been the one to pull the trigger. 

“It’s the law!” 

Jolene didn’t know who’d made the announcement, but relief coursed through her. She looked over her shoulder, seeing that a sheriff and two deputies were on the trail. 

“Sheriff Hannibal! Drop your weapons!” the sheriff shouted, but the outlaws ignored him. 

“Let’s get out of here, boys!” Martin yelled. 

Two of the surviving Natives grabbed Blackrivers and yanked, pulling him with them as they retreated from the onslaught of bullets. 

“Over here!” Jolene shouted to the sheriff. “Help us!” 

For a horrifying moment, she was terrified that they might ignore her and go after the outlaws. But that fear turned to relief as the men made their way down the side of the hill toward her frantic cries for help. 

“He’s shot,” she said as the deputies lifted her father. “He’s unconscious!” 

“Come on, honey,” Sheriff Hannibal told her. “Let’s get him to a doctor. He’ll be alright.” 

She nodded, letting the deputies take her father with them. The tears continued to run down her cheeks as she did, her heart racing. She wanted to believe that the sheriff was right, that her father would be okay. 

But deep down, she was terrified.

Chapter Three

Three Days Later

“Easy there, no need to bury him yet,” Doctor Baker announced, his tone altogether too chipper for the scene around him. 

Randal lay motionless on a mattress in the empty jail. The sheriff had been kind enough to make it as comfortable as possible, but that wasn’t saying much. 

Jolene had been horrified to learn that the medical man in town was more of a veterinarian than a human doctor, and he didn’t have the facility for a patient. 

“What about when people here get sick?” she’d asked him. 

“They stay at home in bed,” he’d told her with a matter-of-fact smile that left no room for argument. “But he’s in bed at the jail, and that’ll do him fine, won’t it?” 

She’d wanted to argue, wanted to tell him that her father deserved far more than that, but she hadn’t. What was there for her to say?

She forced herself to calm down at the doctor’s statement. No need to bury him yet. Yes, he had a point, but then, there was no more improvement in her father’s situation than there had been when the sheriff’s deputies had laid him in the bed three days before. 

“Did you get the bullet out?” she asked, deciding to take a new angle. 

“No, can’t seem to find it,” the doctor replied, his tone still too cheerful for her liking. “But that’s not the end of the world. There’s plenty of folks who heal just fine with foreign items inside. It’s just a matter of keeping it from festering.” 

“I’m more concerned about his blood loss at this point,” Jolene said nervously. “He’s still bleeding. That must mean the bullet is hurting him, even now.” 

“Let me be the doctor, honey,” the doctor said. “I know you’re worried, but he’s going to be okay.” 

He finished packing his bag and gave her another reassuring smile. “I’ll be back here this evening, okay? I’ll check in on him again, and if he has the strength, I’ll get that bullet out then.” 

“But you don’t know where it is…” 

“No matter.” He brushed off the statement. “There’s only so many places it can be, right?” 

He chuckled and made his way to the door, and Jolene watched him go with her mouth set into a grim line. She wanted to like the doctor. She wanted to believe that he was the man who would save her father’s life. Instead, it felt as though he simply didn’t know what he was doing, and he was trying to convince himself just as much as her. 

With the medical man gone, Jolene turned back to her father. She had no idea if he could even hear her, but that didn’t stop her from tucking the blanket around his shoulders. 

“It’s going to be alright, Pa, just you wait and see,” she told him, her voice low and soothing. “He’s going to take care of you, and it’ll all be alright.” 

She was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing her throat. Looking up, she realized the sheriff was standing outside the jail cell, watching her. 

“Do you have a moment?” he asked. “I’d like to speak with you.” 

“Sure,” she said. She looked back at her father. “I’ll be right back, Pa. Don’t you worry.” 

Going out to the front of the sheriff’s office, Jolene found that the sheriff had set out a sandwich for her. 

“Why don’t you sit down and eat something?” he suggested. He sat in his chair on the other side of the desk from her, watching her as she ate. 

Jolene tried to ignore him, but even as she stared at the plate in front of her, she felt his eyes sliding over her. The silence in the room was pregnant with unspoken tension, and she finally looked up. 

“You might as well just say it,” she said. 

Sheriff Hannibal looked uncomfortable at first. Then the look shifted to something that looked almost like resignation. 

“Do you have other family, Miss Wyley?” he asked. 

“Other family?” she asked. She hadn’t known what he wanted, and she was surprised by the question. “No.” 

“No? No mother. No grandparents?” he pressed, as though she didn’t know what would define “other family.”

“No,” she said again, shaking her head. “My mother died giving birth to me. It’s only been me and Pa forever. He said Ma was an orphan, and he doesn’t have family to speak of. I never asked beyond that.” 

“I see,” the sheriff said with compassion flooding his face. 

“Why?” she asked. “Do you think he’s going to die?” 

“I think we need to be prepared for anything that happens,” the sheriff said. 

Jolene was grateful that the man didn’t treat her like she was a child. He treated her like she could handle bad news. But the thought that someone else suspected her father was dying felt like a knife being plunged through her chest. 

“The doctor is coming back,” she said, her voice sounding small and foreign to her ears. “He said he’s going to come get the bullet out this evening.” 

“Hopefully he does,” the sheriff said, this time with a briskness that made Jolene feel he was forcing himself to sound more confident than he felt. “But it’s wise to consider what you’re going to do if…” 

Sheriff Hannibal didn’t finish the statement, and Jolene once again felt like there was a knife twisting in her chest. She looked at the sandwich on the plate in front of her, feeling as though it had turned to sawdust in her mouth. 

“If the worst happens,” Sheriff Hannibal said, “I’ll personally pay to have you put up in the inn for a few days.” 

“I couldn’t accept that,” she said, but he held up his hand. 

“I’m not asking,” he told her. “I’m telling you what we’re going to do. I’ll put you up in the hotel for a few days, and we’ll speak with the preacher man. He’ll take up an offering with the church, and we’ll see if we can get you enough money for a train ticket out of here.” 

“Where would I go?” Jolene asked, tears springing to her eyes. 

She angrily dragged her sleeve across her face. There was no way she would allow herself to break down and cry. Not when her father was lying in the next room, needing her. She’d never before felt so helpless, and she couldn’t stop thinking of all the things she might have done differently when they’d been attacked. 

“There’s quite a few places,” Sheriff Hannibal said. “Depending on the money we can raise, we might even be able to send you back East.” 

“What’s back there?” 

“Civilization,” he said, once again adopting the brisk tone. “So many opportunities for a young woman such as yourself. I hate that there isn’t more we can do, but it’s something.” 

Jolene picked up her sandwich and forced herself to take a bite. She chewed slowly, partly because the food felt like tasteless ash, and partly because she wanted to take the time to think over what the sheriff had just said before she responded. 

“Your father has done so much for the towns in the Black Hills,” Sheriff Hannibal assured her. “I know this might sound like charity, but it’s the least we can do for you. For him. It’s a damned shame that those men caught you out there the way they did, but we can only move forward now.” 

She nodded, only halfway listening to what he said. 

“So please believe me when I say it’s our pleasure to do what we can for you. I know all you want is for him to be okay, but I want you to know that no matter what, we’ll make sure that you are.” He sat back in his seat and lit a cigar. “I’ll even take you into the next town and make sure you get on that train safely myself.” 

“Thank you, Sheriff,” Jolene said. “but that won’t be necessary.” 

She held up her hand when he started to protest. It felt like a bold thing to do, raising her hand like that to an adult when she was still so young, but to her surprise, he stopped talking. 

“My father will be alright,” she said with far more confidence than she felt. “I swear it. But if he’s not leaving, neither am I.” 

“You’re not?” Sheriff Hannibal asked, looking at her with a confused expression. “Perhaps you mean you’re not leaving until he’s been buried properly?” 

“No sir,” Jolene said with an adamant shake of her head. “I mean I’m not leaving. I saw all those men who came for us. I have their faces etched into my mind.” 

“I’m sorry for that,” Sheriff Hannibal said. 

“They’re the ones who should be sorry,” Jolene murmured. “And if Pa dies, I’m going to make sure they are. Mark my words.” She looked up from the food once more, making eye contact with him. “If Pa dies, then I’m going to go after each and every one of those men. I won’t quit until the last one hangs.” 

With that, she rose from the chair and turned to head back to be by her father’s side. 

“Thank you for the sandwich, Sheriff. I do appreciate your kindness.” 

“Miss Wyley,” he said, and Jolene turned back to face him. But whatever he intended to say, he must have changed his mind. He just shook his head. “I hope your father gets well.” 

“Thank you, sir,” she said, turning back. 

She dropped into the chair right next to her father’s bed once more, watching as his breathing slowed even more. Jolene refused to believe he was dying, refused to believe he wasn’t going to pull through. 

But she couldn’t ignore the thought that haunted the back of her mind. 

Her father was dying; there was no stopping it. And it would be up to her to avenge him.

Chapter Four

One Year Later 

“Easy there, boys. You ride out there too quick, and they’ll shoot us before we can even get close,” John Blackrivers told the posse with him. 

“You say that like this is our first train robbery,” Martin Fairweather replied, laughing a wet, hacking laugh. 

Blackrivers bristled. He still didn’t get along with Fairweather, even after the past year of working together. The man was always looking to pick a fight, and Blackrivers was always too happy to oblige. 

“Silence, both of you!” Robert Goseyun barked. 

He’d turned in his saddle to look at them both as he snapped the order, then he turned back to look at the train tracks below. The eleven men all sat on their horses on top of the hill, looking at the field spreading out before them. 

Train tracks cut through the field, and in a matter of minutes, the Trans Union Express would come rumbling through. 

Both men fell silent, looking at the leader of their gang with wide eyes. Blackrivers pulled his kerchief over his mouth and nose, halfway in preparation for what they were about to do, halfway to hide his features from Robert. He didn’t like showing Robert how uncomfortable he was. 

Blackrivers didn’t care for the leader in the slightest. He owed his life to the man, but that didn’t mean he had to like him. 

Robert was a half-breed. His mother was a White woman, but his father was Native, and Blackrivers couldn’t stand Natives. Because of the life he led, he didn’t always get to pick the company he kept, and lately, he’d been entrenched more with Natives than he would have liked. 

The Black Vulture gang was a blend of all sorts. Five of the men were Native, three were White, and two were Mexican. 

“How long until the train gets here?” Wolfgang, one of the other Natives and the youngest member of the gang, asked. 

“Do I look like a conductor to you?” Blackrivers hissed. “It’ll be here when it gets here!” 

“The boy has a point,” Robert acknowledged, glancing from the eighteen-year-old to Blackrivers and Martin. “I didn’t sign up to sit out here all day. Where is it?” 

“It left the station at noon,” Blackrivers said, feeling far more cooperative toward the leader of the group than anyone else. “If it made good time, that means it ought to be here close to two or two-thirty.” 

“It’s that now,” Wolfgang pointed out, and Blackrivers imagined putting a bullet between the boy’s eyes. 

“You better not have set us up,” Robert warned.

Blackrivers shook his head. “I told you exactly what I was told. I want to get paid, too. It wouldn’t do me any good to misdirect you now, would it?” He glared around the group, his gaze challenging anyone to argue. 

Nobody did, but tension still lingered. If the train didn’t show up soon, Blackrivers would be the one to answer for it whether it was his fault or not. 

Then the rumble sounded in the distance. Low at first, it grew louder as the train got closer. Within seconds, the engine appeared around the corner, drawing dozens of cars behind it. 

“There she is, boys,” Robert said to the rest of the gang. “You know what to do.” 

Brief conversation ran through the men as they murmured to each other. Those who hadn’t had their kerchiefs covering their faces moved to do so, and Blackrivers clung to the reins of his horse, his fingers flexing. 

Anticipation and excitement hung in the air as it always did before a robbery, and Blackrivers could already feel the thrill of plundering. He lived for moments like these, when he could take with reckless abandon. 

“We hit the last car first,” Robert said, breaking back into Blackrivers’ thoughts. “Guards are everywhere, but they’ll be closer to the engine than the back end. Keep a sharp eye, shoot anyone you see. No survivors. No prisoners. Just loot.” 

Another murmur ran through the group as the outlaws agreed with the idea. Each of the men was as bloodthirsty as the next. No one would hesitate to kill anybody who got in their way. 

The train whistled, though Blackrivers wasn’t entirely sure why. Perhaps they’d been seen over on the hillside and it was a warning. Perhaps the conductor had another reason. It didn’t matter. 

What mattered was that it was time to act. 

“Let’s move!” Robert called as the last train car whipped around the curve of the track. 

The group sent their horses forward, the men riding like a single, ominous entity as they surged down the hill. Hoofbeats thundered against the dirt, rivaling the rattling of the train. 

A shout rang out, but Blackrivers wasn’t certain whether it came from one of his group or the train itself. It didn’t matter. He spurred his horse faster, pushing the animal ahead, closing the distance between himself and the back of the train. 

A gunshot rang, but Blackrivers didn’t flinch. The entire situation was about to get a lot bloodier; it was just a matter of who pulled the trigger first. Another shot sounded, and this time, the train guard fell off the back of the train car. 

“Get in, boys!” Robert shouted. 

Blackrivers didn’t hesitate. If all went according to plan, all the men would board the train. But it wasn’t an easy feat, and any hesitation from anyone could derail the entire mission. 

He had to move when he had the chance, and he did. He reached above his head, grabbing one of the bars running from the top to the bottom of the last train car. 

The steps were narrow, and the railing was rickety, but that didn’t stop Blackrivers. With practiced ease, he halfway pulled, halfway jumped out of the saddle and landed right on the center of those steps. 

Other members of the gang were coming quickly, but Blackrivers didn’t wait. He rushed ahead, throwing his shoulder against the back door of the train car. Someone had seen the train guard get shot, and they’d bolted the door. But that would only slow Blackrivers, it wouldn’t stop him. 

He threw himself against the door three times before it gave in, and he stormed inside, gun at the ready. 

“Die!” a man shouted. “Outlaw scum!” 

Blackrivers’ head jerked up. He hadn’t noticed the man crouched in the corner of the room, and at that moment, the man flew to his feet, gun in hand. He aimed at Blackrivers, pulling the trigger several times but missing all four shots. 

“You’re too nervous,” Blackrivers taunted. “Steady your hand.” 

The man swore at him. “I don’t need a blasted outlaw to tell me how to shoot a gun!” 

“Apparently, you do,” Blackrivers said, pulling out his knife. He lunged forward, weapon raised above his head. 

The man screamed, but he was clearly out of ammo. His gun clicked uselessly as he tried to shoot Blackrivers again, but nothing happened. He turned to flee at the last second, but by then, it was too late. 

The knife came down hard, and Blackrivers stabbed him several times in the back. 

“Very good,” Robert said from behind Blackrivers. “That’s what I like to see. No mercy, no messing around. A man tries to stand against us, and he’s dead. The rest of you could take a lesson from that.” 

He looked over his shoulder at the other men as they climbed onto the train. Not everyone had witnessed what Blackrivers had done, but they nodded anyway, clearly getting the gist of the lesson. Robert kept walking, muscling his way past Blackrivers as he headed through the front door of the car. 

Word of the outlaws’ invasion spread quickly among those who were on the train. Even before he entered the next car, Blackrivers heard the shouts and orders being thrown from one person to the next. 

He was slightly disappointed to realize that there were no passengers on the train. Each car they passed through only revealed cargo. That meant they wouldn’t get as much loot as they would otherwise. But there was nothing to be done about it now that they were on the train. They’d make the most of the robbery just the same.