Chapter One

The train was dark and stuffy, too many bodies crowded into too little space that left the air heavy. It smelled terrible, too, of bitter sweat and a dozen different perfumes that did nothing to hide the terrible smell. It had been like this since the train left the station a day and a half ago, and only got worse.

Henrietta Jones was lucky to have her own compartment. It was cramped, with two beds smushed against the corners and enough storage for three suitcases. No more. The window, although large enough to watch the scenery go by, refused to open. Or perhaps it wasn’t supposed to. This was Hettie’s first time on an overnight train.

Currently, she sat on one of the beds she had chosen as her own for this journey and listened to the couple in the next compartment bicker. One was a tall man with a fierce scowl. The woman, although quieter, looked no less menacing. They’d been arguing all day, their raised voices drifting through the train cabin for hours. Although Hettie supposed it was a source of entertainment, it was becoming tiring.

It almost made her wish someone else was using this compartment. With someone to share with, at least, she’d be able to hold a conversation.

Letting out a sigh, Hettie sank deeper into her bed. One hand idly played with the string of pearls around her neck, rubbing the largest between thumb and forefinger. You’ll dull the pearls that way, Mother had always warned her, and if they’re ruined, I can’t very well give them to you when I die, can I? It had all been said in a joking fashion, at the time. But then, Mother had fallen ill, and a year later, Hettie attended the funeral wearing those very same pearls. She’d barely taken them off since.

Idly, she wondered what her new fiancé would think of them. True, the necklace was chunky and a little tasteless, but it wasn’t just about how they looked. It was about what they meant to her. Hettie’s mind drifted after that, less concerned about her fiancé’s opinion on her jewelry choices, but more worried about what would happen once she arrived in Texas. After all, they’d only ever spoken by letter.

Still coming to terms with the fact that she was a mail order bride, Hettie wasn’t sure what to make of it all. She only hoped it all went as smoothly as she expected.

As she lay there, staring up at the stained ceiling, Hettie heard a voice echo from somewhere down the train cabin. Just another child acting up, she assumed, until the shouting continued. A chorus of bellows rang throughout the cabin, leaving her ears ringing.

On her feet now, Hettie felt her blood run cold. Was she imagining it, or was the train slowing down? Was that why everyone was panicking? Logic told her to peek into the hallway, fear told her to stay put. Pretty face twisting into a frown, Hettie inched toward the window.

The scenery, awash with the green grass and tall trees of the countryside, wasn’t flashing by as quickly now. It only confirmed her worries, and Hettie felt her stomach drop. They were nearing the journey’s end, but considering how long the journey was, there was still plenty of time left. Fishing her pocket watch from her dress pocket, she realized with a jolt that it was even earlier than anticipated.

So why were they stopping?

Now, even the couple next door had stopped fighting.

Just then, the train lurched. Hettie was thrown forward with a gasp, and her elbow knocked against the bedpost with a painful slam. A stinging ache licked its way up her arm as she landed on the bed, arms thrown out to catch her fall. Sitting up, she stared around with wide eyes.

Her suitcases had been thrown from the overhead storage. One had landed by the window, the lock snapped, revealing her collection of books. At least it wasn’t my clothing suitcase, she thought, only for a jolt to tear through her as she realized one thing. The train had come to a complete standstill.

Her arm protested as Hettie moved to scoop up the books that had spilled onto the floor. With the suitcase broken, she ended up tossing them all onto the unused bed. Truthfully, she was only trying to put off what really had to be done. She needed to investigate, and the thought made her stomach roll.

The train, which only moments ago had been echoing with voices, now fell eerily silent. So silent, in fact, that Hettie heard her own breath coming in quick, rapid gasps. Outside her compartment door, it was as if everyone had simply vanished.

Hauling herself upright, Hettie risked another look outside. The train was surrounded by lush green fields and tall evergreens, their needles shining in the afternoon sunlight. Once again, she jostled the window, but it refused to open. So much for that. She couldn’t see a thing anyway, and if something was wrong, she wasn’t privy to it.

Hettie turned just as the first voices reached her compartment door. Her heart jumped in her chest as a piercing howl rose up, so loud it seemed to come from right beside her. It shot through the silence, making her physically recoil, before ending as abruptly as it sounded.

Dogs didn’t sound like that. With a shudder, Hettie realized that it had been a person.

There were more voices now. First, a deep, rumbling man’s voice right outside her door. A second voice, little more than white noise muffled by the door, responded. There was a scuffle of feet and a thud against the door, a man grunting in pain before someone snapped, “Get him out of here!”

Feeling bile rise in the back of her throat, Hettie stepped away. It was no use, anyway. Whatever was going on out there, she was trapped. The room was hardly big enough for two people to sleep in, with nowhere to hide and certainly nowhere to go. If they decided to force their way in-

“Check every compartment,” a rough voice commanded. “I want a thorough search before we go.”

A beat of silence. Hettie wasn’t aware she had been holding her breath, not until it all left her in a breathless huff, her head spinning. She pressed her back against the window, feeling her pulse hammer against her ribs, wondering just what was going on but terrified to investigate.

The door jostled; a man growled. Then, the door shuddered open, squeaking on rusted hinges, and an enormous figure filled the doorway. He was tall, the swoop of his greying hair almost touching the top of the frame as he stepped inside. Although his build was slender, his fitted black shirt gave the illusion of bulk. When his eyes landed on Hettie, she realized they were a cold, slate grey.

Swallowing thickly, Hettie forced her voice to work. “Can I help you with something?”

A slow, unsettling smile spread across his lips. Despite being well-dressed, his hair short and neat, that smile turned him into something sinister. “Well miss, I believe you can. Got any valuables?”

Behind him hovered a blond man with wide shoulders and a nervous frown. “Sir? There’s a man causing a stir over in the second compartment, and I-”

“Then take care of it.” The blunt sound of his voice, the way he fixed the blond with that cruel stare, made it clear that he was the leader. The leader of… what, though?

Hettie was sure she didn’t want the answer.

When the grey-eyed man turned that unblinking gaze back to her, Hettie felt her entire body freeze.

“Nice pearls you have there.” His eyes roved across her body, lingering not on the pearls around her neck but her ample chest.

Despite wearing a simple traveling dress, that look made her feel slimy. Suddenly, she wanted a bath, just to forget the way his gaze had lingered on her.

“Got anything else in those suitcases?” the grey-haired man asked, jerking his head toward where they had fallen earlier.

“J-just books and clothes.”

“Then the pearls will do.”

He stepped forward. She stepped back. Her arm knocked against the wall, and Hettie winced but held her ground. Fear welled up inside of her, but she couldn’t give up these pearls. They had belonged to Mother, and they were the only thing of hers she had been able to take on this horrendous journey.

A deep frown marred his features and made him look even harsher than before. “Now, don’t be stupid, little girl. I’ve got ten men on this train, all armed, and we’ve already had to take out one man. Don’t think I’ll spare you.” He reached out, long fingers snapping around her wrist like a handcuff. “Give me the pearls.”

Hettie fought against his bruising grip. “They were my mother’s,” she snapped, twisting her wrist to try and grapple free. Yet he was far stronger than her, and her struggle only had him grinning in delight. Was he enjoying this? The thought made her sick, and in a moment of rage, she darted forward, sinking her teeth into the soft flesh of his hand.

With a yell, he let go, disgust twisting his features. “How dare you,” he snarled, curling his hand against his chest.

With a rush of spiteful satisfaction, Hettie saw she had drawn blood.

“I might have let you go,” he stated, voice dangerously low, “but now I’ve changed my mind..

Chapter Two

Hettie flinched back, preparing for a hit – or worse. Tears sprung to her eyes, but there was nowhere to go, nothing to do.

But the attack never came.

“Sir,” a voice murmured, and Hettie opened her eyes to see the same young bandit hovering by the doorway like a lost child. His eyes drifted to Hettie only for a moment before sliding back to his boss. “The Sheriff is here.”

Sir. Then the grey-haired man was the leader of this group. These bandits. Hettie swallowed.

The man swore. The roughness of his voice made Hettie flinch, but he was no longer interested in her. He turned his back to her, as if she were a forgotten toy, and stalked from the compartment without another word.

The blond followed dutifully after him, feet scuffing the ground.

Letting out a breath, Hettie allowed herself to sink to the floor. Her heart still thudded, her pulse roaring in her ears, but she managed a sigh of relief that made her whole body ache.

That relief lasted as long as it took to hear the first gunshot. It rang throughout the entire train, a resounding shot that left her ears ringing. Hettie scrambled to her feet with energy she didn’t know she had, a gasp leaving her lips. It had come from her left where the two men had gone.

Despite knowing better, Hettie peeked into the hall. Others had the same idea, it seemed, because all across the cabin, doors opened. Heads looked out, people murmuring between themselves. Some of the especially curious even stepped out into the hallway itself, their necks craning around…

Only to scatter as another shot pierced the silence. There were voices now too, especially the deep tenor of the grey-haired man’s shouting curses. Hettie saw him dart out of another compartment, his once slick hair now a mess around his angular face. He had a pistol held in one broad hand, sweeping it across the hallway as he searched with narrowed eyes.

That was when Hettie saw a flash of a dark sheriff’s uniform, the badge glinting in the sun. He squeezed off two shots – both missing – before ducking behind a door.

Within seconds, chaos erupted around her. People screamed, their shrillness filling the cabin. Passengers darted out of the way as more gunshots echoed – some ran back inside their rooms, some simply fled, hoping somehow to escape the confines of the train. A man fell at Hettie’s feet, his eyes wide, before he hauled himself upright and ran off toward the back of the cabin.

Hettie, frozen in place, simply stared at the scene unfolding. The young blond man had collapsed, clutching his leg. Another man grabbed his shoulder as blood seeped from between his fingers. Men poured into the hall, hollering over one another until individual words were impossible to make out. Vision obscured by the crowd, Hettie lost sight of what was happening.

As she stood there, feet rooted to the spot, it occurred to her just how lucky she was to be unhurt. Those bandits could have so easily hurt her. Or worse…

A man flew past, and she jumped, skittering aside to let him past. This man had a badge glittering on his chest. The deputy sheriff? He spared her a glance, brows furrowed, before darting along the hallway to the source of the fighting. “Everyone, stay inside your compartments!” he called, but Hettie was the only one left in the open anyway.

Eyes wide, she watched him go, and he joined the fray. Together, the sheriff and the deputy were a frightening force. Already they had taken out four bandits, the sounds of their gunshots ricocheting off the walls and echoing throughout the entire train.

Hettie felt her stomach turn as she watched the fight. Her feet refused to move, and no matter how desperately she wanted to look away, it was impossible. Eyes fixed on the sheriff and his deputy, Hettie felt her heart jolt with every shot. Each time, she expected one of them to be hit, and with each shot, her worry grew. Not for herself, because nobody seemed to even notice she was there, but for them.

Despite the worry tearing away at Hettie, it wasn’t long before the bandits knew they were losing. The grey-haired man, who had been keeping back from the worst of the fighting, sprinted down the hall with enough speed his feet skidded across the wooden floor. “Fall back,” he snarled, although he didn’t wait for his men to answer. Already he was making his escape, pushing past his own lackeys to get away. “This is a lost cause, so let’s get out of here!”

“You won’t get away with this,” the Sheriff called. The hall was too narrow and the fighting too thick, but Hettie caught the sheriff aiming his pistol at the last moment, just as the leader was about to slip away.

A gunshot, louder than the rest, shot into the hall. Hettie gasped as she saw the Sheriff stumble back, surprise flickering across his face. Someone had gotten to him first.

The distraction was enough for the leader to run, his feet pounding on the floor. His men followed – some unhurt, some bleeding, leaving smeared trails of red in their wake. One bandit shoved past Hettie. She tried to dart out of the way, but his shoulder still collided with her. He winced and hurried on, but he left a streak of blood across her sleeve.

Fighting the urge to be sick, she only watched them go.

Some of them were hurt, and the acrid smell of blood and gunpowder left a sour taste in her mouth. Swallowing, she fought down the urge to vomit. With the bandits gone, the hall was now empty, and she was the only one left standing there like an idiot.

The deputy knelt by the sheriff, but he waved the deputy’s help away. “It’s only a graze,” he snapped, peeling back his sleeve to inspect the wound. Hettie crept closer, if only to make sure he was all right, and his head turned up to look at her. He was attractive, perhaps in his late twenties, with messy blond hair and the beginnings of stubble growing on his chin. His eyes were dark, a deep brown that was almost black under the dim lights. By all accounts, he was handsome, tall and broad as he pulled himself upright, with wide shoulders and a slim waist.

“Are you all right?” Hettie asked, if only because it was the first thing she thought to say. “Those men, they tried to steal my pearls.”

“That’s what bandits do, I’m afraid.” It was the Deputy who answered, a young man with a shock of red hair and a boyish face. He looked far too young to be a Deputy Sheriff, but his smile came easily, and his eyes were kind. The deputy asked, “How about you? Were you hurt?”

“No. They tried to steal my mother’s pearls, but I wouldn’t let them.” Hettie couldn’t hold their gaze, head bowed as she played with a curl that had fallen from its bun. The Deputy was kind, but the intense stare of the Sheriff had her blushing like a schoolgirl.

The Sheriff quirked a thick brow, his dark eyes judging. “That was dangerous. You should have just given them up.” He stretched out his shoulder, wincing as the joint cracked. Blood trickled down his forearm, but he didn’t seem bothered by it.

Hettie felt annoyance rise in her chest. “They were my mother’s, and I wasn’t going to give them to some disgusting thief.” Arms folded, she scowled at them both. Although her parents had always taught her to be respectful of authority, she had also been taught to stand her ground, especially over things that mattered. “Anyway, I wasn’t hurt.”

“You could have been,” the Sheriff snapped. “Worse, even. People like them have no care of human life. Given the chance, they’d have shot you for those valuables.”

Hettie saw his name badge shimmer in the light. Pruitt. Funny, that was the name of her fiancé, the man she came all the way here to marry. As soon as the thought popped into her mind, Hettie was speechless. Her chest jumped, surprise rolling through her. Could it be…? Her lips parted, the question on her tongue, but she never had the chance to say a word.

Sheriff Pruitt cut in with, “You’re a brave woman, standing up to them like that, yet naive. You’re lucky we arrived when we did.”

A few people had risked peeking their heads from their rooms now. Likely curious now that the fighting had ceased, they wanted to know what was going on. Hettie couldn’t blame them, and besides, it gave her an excuse to move away from the Sheriff and his Deputy.

“Will the train continue its journey now that they’re gone?” she questioned, “I’m sure these people want to be on their way. I know I do.” A pause, her brows furrowing. “I’m supposed to be meeting with the sheriff of Hollow.”

“That would be me.” His expression softened, confusion flickering over his eyes. “Are you Henrietta?”

It should have clicked sooner, in all honesty. Hettie had no idea they were so close to Hollow already, hadn’t realized that tall, handsome man was her fiancé. When it finally clicked, the realization hit her like a physical force. He was even lovelier to look at than she had imagined.

“Sir, we should-”

“Jack, can you give us a minute alone? Go and check on the other passengers, please.”

The Deputy, his badge told Hettie, was Deputy Coffee. Jack Coffee. He nodded, shooting the Sheriff an understanding smile, before turning to address the frightened passengers. He gently began ushering people back into their cabins, murmuring reassurances as he went.

Pruitt – no, his name was Vincent – ran a hand through his thick hair. “You need to be more careful. What if I hadn’t arrived in time? You could have been killed.”

Turning her head toward her own compartment, she gestured for him to come inside. It was still a mess, with her books sprawled across the spare bed and her suitcases lying in the middle of the room. She sat anyway, nudging the suitcases out of the way with her feet. “I know it was silly of me,” she replied with a frown, “but I wasn’t thinking. One moment I was alone and the next…”

“You were frightened,” he replied gruffly. He wasn’t anything like his letters made him out to be. The Vince Pruitt she had seen in those letters had been kind, if unsure. Straight to the point, but never cruel in his bluntness. He had wanted a wife mostly for his daughter who had no mother. Someone to care for his beloved little girl while he worked long hours at his important job. For her, it was about the security and the chance to live a quiet life somewhere peaceful. And about money, of course, although Hettie didn’t like to say so for fear of sounding selfish.

The Vince Pruitt she saw now was dour, his arms folded stiffly as he stared out of the dirty window. “The train will continue its journey once we ensure everyone is safe,” he said coolly. “Until then, may I suggest you stay inside your cabin?”

“There isn’t anywhere else to go,” Hettie replied instantly. She matched his glare with one of her own, her bright blue eyes narrowed. Sweeping long black hair over her shoulder, she tucked her legs onto the bed, boots still on, and rested her back against the wall. “I’ll wait,” she concluded with a sigh. “I’m sorry for causing you trouble.”

Vince pursed his lips, unconvinced by her apology. Yet, he shrugged, unwilling to push the matter, and strode to the door. “The bandits got away, but at least you’re unhurt. I hope we can say the same for everybody else.” With that, he stepped into the hall, closing her compartment door behind him.

Letting out a heavy breath, Hettie all but collapsed against the wall. It was cool against her skin, somewhat soothing the headache that had started to thump at the back of her skull. A part of her didn’t truly believe that it was over – she half expected the door to fly open, revealing more dirtied bandits in the hall. Of course, the door stayed shut and the train remained quiet, and it was only her own paranoia causing trouble.

It was a long while before the train shuddered back to life. When it did, Hettie was almost soothed by the rhythmic hum of it jumping into motion. Soon enough she would be in Hollow, settling into her new life with Vince Pruitt. The thought made her anxieties rise, only partially soothed by the knowledge the train was once again moving. He was handsome, certainly, but meeting him had caused doubts to surface. Had she made a mistake, coming here? Was it too much to hope that her new life was the idyllic lifestyle she wanted?

Eventually, worn out from the worry, Hettie let her head fall onto the soft pillow of the cabin bed. Yet even as she drifted off, those worries clung to the back of her mind. Somehow, she managed to drift off into a restless doze.

What felt like seconds later, she was gently nudged awake, bleary eyes blinking open. The train was at a standstill, and outside she was met not with nature, but a dark train station.

She was here.

***

Henrietta wasn’t what Vince had expected. She had held her own against bandits, which was far more than most men could handle. On the other hand, she was soft, too, in the gentle flush of her slender cheeks and the shy smile that graced her features.

He should have been annoyed at her for the way she acted, risking her life for a pearl necklace. It struck a chord, though, when she mentioned her deceased mother. Vince valued family above all else, and thus he understood the desire to keep the pearls close.

“The bandits got away,” he sighed, “but at least you’re unhurt. I hope we can say the same for everybody else.” He offered a smile, something he didn’t do too often, and leaned heavily against the wall.

Henrietta stared at the ceiling with tired eyes, and he couldn’t blame her. The journey wasn’t over yet, though, and he thought it best to let her rest. She was pretty when she was relaxed; her dark hair spilled over her shoulder, having come loose from its bun, and her cheeks were perpetually tinted a lovely pink. Not a flush, but a natural color that made her look vibrant. He had never seen her before, not even in a photograph, and Vince found himself enjoying the curl of her dark hair and the slender slope of her jawline. He had tried to avoid picturing Henrietta before now, not knowing what she looked like, but she was more beautiful than anything he could have imagined.

Shaking his head, Vince let out a sigh. Although it pained him to leave her, he had duties to attend to as the Sheriff. Duties he could not avoid. “Please, rest. I have to attend to the other passengers.” His gaze lingered a moment before he turned, offering her a reassuring smile. “Rest.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Henrietta admitted, but already her eyes looked heavy.

“It will do you a world of good,” he murmured, “and I will be back as soon as possible.” Slipping outside, Vince made sure to close the door behind him. The danger was over, but the dull throb in his arm was a reminder of what could have happened. He felt safer knowing that Henrietta was tucked away out of sight.

Jack met him in the narrow corridor. His eyes were somber, but he brightened upon seeing him. “So, Henrietta. I didn’t even realize this was the same train.”

“Neither did I,” he admitted, feeling a rush of embarrassment. “I should have realized it was Henrietta’s.” He knew she preferred Hettie, but calling her something so informal when they had only spoken through letters… it felt wrong, somehow. Too personal. Perhaps it was hypocritical, considering he insisted everyone call him Vince.

She wasn’t entirely what he had expected, either, although he couldn’t quite figure out if he enjoyed that or not. Henrietta was a spitfire, determined and stubborn, but he saw kindness there, too. Bravery in how she refused to give up her mother’s favorite pearls. Henrietta wasn’t the shy, demure woman he had expected, and he found himself intrigued.

Breaking him from his thoughts, Jack gestured to the rooms further down the cabin. “Nobody got hurt, thank God, although the children got quite the scare. Everyone’s fine.”

“We were so close,” Vince muttered, a scowl forming on his rugged face. It was his fault they got away, for being reckless enough to get shot. The pain, which had started to numb by now, was a reminder of that.

“We’ll get them,” Jack reassured, “but for now, you need to focus on yourself and your new fiancée.”

Jack was right. The deputy was wise beyond his young years, and Vince was thankful for having him around. His mind drifted back to Henrietta, still unsure of what to think of her. Would they get along? They hadn’t gotten off on good footing, which only made his nerves rise. Shaking his head, he addressed Jack. “I’ll take her home as soon as we get into the station. Can you take care of the rest?”

“Of course,” he replied.

Moments later, the train shuddered into action, the chug of the engine filling the silence. Now that they were on the move again, it was a good sign that things were over. For now.

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