Widow's Second Chance (Book 1)

Chapter One

"I was wondering when I was going to see you again."

Charlotte wouldn't consider Annesburg a pleasant town. Ashy and unwelcoming, the mining factory didn't allow its presence to be ignored. Charlotte usually avoided it all together whenever she had to come to town for supplies. She'd skip straight to Van Horn. It was smaller and full of more drunks, but at least she wasn't dusted in soot by the time she left.

She had just reached the post office when a young man arrived driving a cart.

"Miss Balfour!" he greeted cheerfully.

"It's missus, Johnny. And good morning to you." He was a farm laborer who always seemed to catch her in town despite her rare stops. She had to remind him every time she saw him that she was a widow. At first, it had stung to have to inform him, a constant reminder that she was out here on her own. But, nowadays, it served as a way to keep people at a distance.

"You're in town awful early."

She nodded. "I'm expecting a package from Saint Denis. On my way, I thought I'd go out on a short hunt."

Johnny hopped from the cart and grinned at her. "I'm doing the opposite. I've got some deliveries to send out for Mr. Easton."

She opened the door for him as he balanced three boxes and then followed him in.

"Here's your mail, Mrs. Balfour." The mail clerk slid a thin box across the counter.

She took it from him. It was nothing more than a book. Worthless to some, but she'd wanted to get back into reading again. Three weeks ago, it hadn't stopped raining for two days and she'd been bored out of her mind, trapped in her house with only cleaning and cooking to do.

She went to turn away when the mail clerk added, "Oh, one more thing for you. A letter, from Chicago."

She cringed, but accepted it with a thanks. She stared at the letter from her family. An ache started in her heart. She missed them, she truly did, but she didn't look forward to reading this. Her mother always wrote a lengthy essay trying to convince her to return home. She just didn't understand Charlotte could never go back.

That life wasn't hers anymore. She couldn't be the mild-mannered daughter who attended weekly dinner parties and giggled with friends. She wasn't that person now, if she ever was. She now knew that life was stifling. She hadn't realized until Cal pulled her from it that she'd been miserable in Chicago.

While she was stuck mulling over tossing the letter and claiming to her mother it had been lost in the post, the mail clerk and Johnny struck up a conversation. Something about gun shots keeping them up and the lawmen.

"Could you hear all that shooting from up at the farm, boy?" the mail clerk asked.

"Oh, yes, sir." As Charlotte reached the door, Johnny directed a question her way. "You see all them Pinkertons come through town, Miss Balfour?"

"Missus," she corrected automatically before processing what he asked. "What's this now?"

"Pinkertons!" he said excitedly. "They've been chasing a gang of outlaws from Van Horn and up to the hills west of here. Apparently, they were hiding up in them caves the Murfrees been livin'. They're probably getting taken in today."

A gang? She shuddered. She'd faced a pair of Murfrees in this area on one hunt. She'd scared them off and hadn't come across anymore for a few months. Usually, she contended with bears, wolves and a cougar once from a distance. Now, she had to worry about gangs?

The mail clerk shook his head. "If Pinkertons is involved, then they ain't getting taken in, son."

Johnny's eyes boggled. "Really?"

"It is a shame too," the mail clerk sighed. "There was a friendly enough cowboy running with them outlaws."

"You mean that feller with the white stallion?"

Charlotte stilled at his words. "White stallion?"

Arthur had a white stallion. How many men did? He was proud of that horse. Was he truly a member of a gang? She'd always known he was a rough and tumble type, but he'd always been kind to her and it didn't stop her high regard of him.

"I didn't know he was in a gang," Johnny's eyes widened further. "He was always so helpful."

"It just proves that you can't trust no one."

Charlotte remembered one of the last times she'd seen Arthur. He'd come up to the house, checking in on her. When she'd called him a good man, he'd denied it.

If he was being chased by the law, was he even still alive? The question had her heart wrenching. No matter his crimes, he was a good friend, the most trusted person in her life here. So much so, she'd never felt as if she'd properly repaid the debt she owed him. He'd lifted her up, saved her at her lowest, most vulnerable point. She had no qualms admitting she'd be dead if not for him.

That settled it in her mind. She wouldn't be much help in a shootout, but if he was injured or needed a place to lay low from the law, she could supply that. She would repay the good deeds he'd done for her.

"Where is this gang hideout?" She hadn't been following the continuing conversation so her interruption startled Johnny and the mail clerk.

The mail clerk's brow furrowed. "What you want to know a thing like that for, missy?"

"I think you know, sir."

Johnny gaped. "You want to go to the hideout, Miss Balfour?"

Charlotte looked between the two resolutely. "I have to see if a friend needs my help."