The Outlaw’s Legacy of Love (Preview)

Chapter One

Gabriel Westfield plodded into town with his head lowered underneath his large-brimmed hat. Obscured beneath it was his brown and auburn hair, his tanned and scarred skin, and the blue eyes that saw more than he ever said. He grasped the leather reins of his horse, Alistair, and gently led him along the dirt road running through the center of Silverton, Colorado.

All around him, the town was teeming with the activities of an early spring evening. Folks were turning in after a long day of working fields and welcoming new young from their livestock. Everything about this season made him feel like a new man; a man on a quest to right his past, down to every minuscule detail.

The soft, orange glow of the tavern windows caught his attention, and he urged his horse forward, guiding him towards the light. Laughter reverberated out of the open doors, and Gabe caught sight of dancing shadows spilling onto the porch. A few cowboys and ranchers were drinking and playing games to relax at the end of the working day.

He thought of ignoring the tavern and moving past it without a second glance, but the grumbling in his stomach stopped him. Besides, the place was not only for food and drink, but the sign above the door indicated that it also served as the town’s inn.

“I suppose,” he mumbled to his shimmering gray horse, “it’s better to get lodgings in town and clean up before begging the lady for a job she’s not like to give easily. She might be more receptive to a stranger in the daylight, anyhow.”

He approached the stable behind the building and breathed a sigh of relief that he and Alistair would both soon be getting a good rest. A stable boy popped his head out after opening a wooden gateway. “Evening sir,” he greeted enthusiastically, his broad grin showing teeth that hadn’t fully grown in yet.

“Evening.” Gabe nodded his head, still leading Alistair forward by the reins.

“You staying the night?”

“If there’s a room.” Gabe glanced toward the tavern and inn. Judging by the sound, it wasn’t too fully occupied to worry.

This sight of the boy’s shabby clothes and holey shoes took Gabe far away into the past, when he had still been scrounging for scraps and doing far more shady things for his survival. In this boy’s position, he had taken a much different approach to making a living.

It made his stomach clench to remember. Gabe handed off the reins, measuring his own expression so that nobody might guess his thoughts, and tossed the boy a coin that was worth more than the job usually paid. This boy was on a good path, and Gabe meant to encourage that.

The boy stared at the coin with wide eyes for a moment in shock before he beamed.

“Thank you kindly, sir! I promise, I’ll take real good care o’ him. You have yourself a fine evening, sir, and come back to stay with us anytime!” Gabe nodded at the boy as he led Alistair into the lantern-lit stable.

Other horses sounded from inside, huffing and munching on the hay Gabe could spot through the open doorway. There were only three other horses, but the stable area was relatively big; a sign that visitors passed through this way often enough. Gabe wondered with dread if and when the stable might be filled with horses from non-paying customers.

He glanced up and down the street while rounding the building, hoping silently that all would be well for at least a couple of weeks. He’d need to build some kind of rapport with the town, and especially with Sylvie Caldwell, before they’d listen to any warnings he might issue them.

As Gabe entered the open front door, he glanced around the room at all the wooden tables scattered about and lining the walls. A circle of drunken folks were dancing with each other. Gabe shook his head, pushing away memories of his old ruffian lifestyle. He sniffed, his eyes darting about. A group of ranchers stared at him over the rims of their cups, and Gabe watched them sideways until he was sure he didn’t recognize them.

He walked past them all to the aged counter, offering the barman a friendly nod. He had the creases of a middle-aged man who had laughed a lot in his life, and his dark eyes brimmed with experience. The barman smiled, deepening the lines around his mouth and eyes.

“So, stranger, how may I serve you? A whiskey maybe?” He teased a bottle. “Or perhaps food?”

“Food,” Gabe stated firmly. “Please. Whatever you have is fine.” His stomach rumbled so much it was a wonder the entire room couldn’t hear it.

“I’ve got a hearty stew served hot if you’ve got some coin.”

“How much for a hot meal and a room?” he asked, keeping his budget in mind. He hadn’t spent recklessly while on the road, but if his plan failed, he’d need to find a hard job that paid well in order to make enough money to set off.

No, don’t think like that. I’ve made it this far, and this has to work. It will work. Come sunrise, I will get the job and do what I came here to do.

The saloon keeper smiled and quoted him a decent price for the state of the place. Gabe guessed if it was a busy season, he likely would have had to haggle. He rubbed his chin silently and gave a nod of agreement.

A game of checkers was in play at one of the tables, and Gabe sat by to observe while he waited for his food. Once it arrived, he scarfed it down ravenously, leaving his plate spotless. That night, in the soft but musty bed upstairs in the inn, his mind drifted into the vast landscape of countryside dreams.

***

Early the next morning, before sunlight dappled the ground, Gabe found himself swaying atop his horse along the wide, dusty path that led to the Caldwell Ranch. Thanks to the stable boy’s instructions, he had made it to Sylvie’s ranch and spewed a breath of relief when he realized how well-known the ranch was around town.

The large house stood like a giant peak on the highest mountain, but the fenced land looked vast; more than enough for the eye to track. His heart hummed with deep emotions he hadn’t accounted for, and he pulled his horse to a stop.

It had been a long time since he’d seen the place, and longer still since his last interaction with the man who’d purchased it. That man was dead and gone, but there were others now who didn’t know Gabe, and whom he couldn’t allow to know him as that man had.

Sucking in a deep breath, he nudged Alistair forward and burst through the last leg of his journey. The front door of the ranch house opened just before he came to a stop beside the porch, and a middle-aged woman stepped out with bare feet.

“Get up, boys,” she shouted as she banged a large brass bell. “Anyone who wakes up late is missing breakfast.” Before turning away, she cast a sideways glance toward Gabe. “You lost or something?”

“No, ma’am.” He squared his shoulders and cleared his throat, locking eyes with the hazel-eyed woman who ran the Caldwell Ranch with determined steel. “My name is Gabe Westfield. I’m passing through and thought I’d stay for the season. I’d be happy to work hard here if you need a hand.”

She squinted, sweeping stray wisps of her prematurely silvered hair back in a smooth motion. “What makes you think I’d need another hand?”

“Right.” He felt sheepish, but maintained his air of respect. “I’m a hard worker and I won’t ask for much. Seems to me the more hands you have, the more work can get done in a day.”

She scratched her head, shaking it. “Unless you’ve got some real special skills, I think I’ll be fine with what I’ve got.”

His heart sank as he tried to think of how any of his previously learned skills could be put to good use on a ranch. None that came to mind, such as gun-slinging and thievery, were likely to paint him in a good light. It seemed wisest to keep them to himself, yet he needed to tell her something that would convince her of his value.

Gabe stared at the woman fiercely, his teeth ground with determination. He reminded himself of his goals and clenched his fists against the reins of his horse. No one made any promises about this being an easy job. Essential, yes, but not easy.

“I don’t take up much space, won’t cost you much, don’t make a lot o’ noise, and don’t cause trouble. You’ll only have to say something once for me to get it, and I learn fast enough you might not even have to say it once. I’ve got two strong hands and will work from dawn to dusk seven days a week.”

The woman, who Gabe knew to be Sylvie, squinted, eying him curiously. He understood the questions that must have been rushing through her head. After all, he was a stranger emerging out of nowhere, and declaring he wouldn’t mind working for a low income. She rubbed her temples.

“Very well. You make your case well, young man. I’ll give you a week to put your words to the test.” She smirked. “I mean, to hold you to ’em. So, if you were playing it up, now’s the time to leave.”

He bit back a relieved smile, his eyes burning with fierce determination. Spring season would be plenty of time for him to move his pieces on the checker’s board. “Don’t worry about me, ma’am. I’m good for it. Where would you like me to start?”

Her hazel eyes sparked with annoyance; her head inclined slightly. “No more calling me ma’am around here,” she spat. “Call me Sylvie.”

Gabe blinked at her. “Apologies, Sylvie.”

“Atta boy. Now,” she said, turning to enter the house again, waving him in half-heartedly, “get you something to eat, then the boys will show you around.”

As he ascended the porch steps to follow her, she called over her shoulder, “By the way, if you’re thinking of trying anything, know that I’m armed at all times.” He’d just made it through the doorway before she met his gaze. “Anyone crosses me, they’ll be on the ground before you c’n spit.”

“Understood.” It was good to know that she’d be able to handle herself should things go sour. What she’d likely meant as a threat to keep him from any criminal acts against her had served as a reassurance.

The two ranch hands weren’t pleased by his sudden appearance at breakfast, to put it mildly. From the way their faces darkened with distrust and exuding malice, Gabe knew he would be an outcast from the start, but it mattered little to him. His goals came first.

“Who is he?” the one with blond hair asked.

“Larson, this is Gabe Westfield,” Sylvia answered. “I want you to show him the ropes. If he does well this week, he’ll be joining us for the season. Gabe, this here is Larson Pewes, the senior ranch hand. In my absence, you’ll answer to him.”

Gabe nodded politely but was met by a skeptical glare from the man’s brown eyes. Beside him, his darker-haired counterpart offered a friendly smile and handshake. “Jake Martin,” he introduced. “Welcome to the team.”

They both appeared a few years younger than Gabe, who was twenty-eight, yet he would have to get used to their seniority over him. As they sat down to a breakfast of ham, eggs, and grits, he reminded himself that he had only to keep his head down, work hard, and wait for the storm to roll in.

 

Chapter Two

Thunder cracked outside, and rain fell in heavy, thudding waves. Night had already veiled the world by then, and Amy sat in her room reading a romance novel from England that she’d discovered in her mother’s cache.

“Dinner is ready,” her mother called out at the base of the stairs. Amy, drawn into her current paragraph, remained glued to the bed, her toes curled up as she read about her favorite romantic hero. “Amy! Come down.” Her mother shouted, and the voice was somehow blocked out by the strength of the story filling her mind.

Her chest hummed, and one glance at the pouring rain made Amy’s reading experience all the more immersive. “Coming,” she finally shouted back, closing the book. She straightened her dress and set the novel on her side table, brushing her fingers against it fondly as she pulled away.

It happened as she was darting down the stairs. A screaming sound, like wind blowing faster and harder than she’d ever heard in her life, approached the outer wall. The windows shattered and wood splintered in all directions, the house folding in on itself while Amy shrieked in terror.

Her feet were swept out from under her. In the next second, a cold blast slammed into her, thrusting her against the wall. Her voice was completely swallowed by the burrowing vortex. fighting against her instinct to squeeze her eyes shut, she looked around wildly for any sign of her parents.

The lamps had gone out and all that remained to light her way were the periodic flashes of lightning reflecting off the swell of water flooding into the torn house.

Freezing water seeped into Amy, chilling her to the bone, and fear tormented her. Her brain kept darting back to the horrible truth that stayed turned on as brilliant as the moon. I’m going to die here, her mind echoed, gluing her in place.

No matter how hard she fought, she couldn’t escape the barrage of wind, water, and debris that kept piling on, pinning her to the floor. As she lay there, coughing and battling for breath, she wondered what she’d done to bring such terrible punishment down on her.

Crying out into the chaos, she pleaded that her family might be spared, even if she wouldn’t get to see them again in this life. After what must have been hours, as the wind died down, she lost the battle with consciousness and everything turned black around her.

***

Amy Montrose exited the hospital with bandages wrapped tightly around one wrist that had been sprained. The aching pain of her flesh felt like nothing compared to the turmoil burning through her mind. Four days before, she’d survived a horrific storm that had left her without a family or a home.

Tears trickled down her face as she wandered down the side of the street. The town lawyer, Archie Smith Esquire, had stopped by the hospital early on in her stay to let her know he’d search for any living relative she might have around the country, free of charge. She couldn’t recall precisely which day he’d come. Those days were all a blur of heartache and agony.

She raised her uninjured hand to signal a carriage, only to realize that she had no penny in her pocket. Luckily, she knew how to find his office, and it was a relatively short distance away. She stalked in that direction, with her lips set in a fine line. Darkness encroached on the center of her mind, and Amy tried to hold on to the hope that she’d have somewhere to go from there.

The church might give her a place to sleep, and even replace some of the belongings that were lost to her, but that was only a temporary solution. Unless she dedicated her life to service and never sought any of the dreams she’d once held of marriage and raising a family of her own, she was relying completely on the lawyer to find someone who could give her a home.

Every step felt heavy with exhaustion, although she’d done nothing but rest since the day of the storm. Her house had been reduced to rubble, and her parents were buried in the graveyard, the latter of which she avoided on her trek to Mr. Smith’s office.

It made her feel sick just to imagine the destruction the storm had left in its wake, although she would soon be faced with the reality just ahead. The memories of the experience were a bit fuzzy for her. She was grateful for that. She wanted to remember her parents as they had been in life, not how she had lost them in the turmoil.

Her whole body trembled as the property she used to call home came into view. Where her house had once stood, Amy spotted a heap of cluttered debris. Nothing was recoverable from such a sight. The image was haunting, and it made her want to squeeze them shut, never to be opened again.

“Mother… Father.” She fell to her knees, and her eyes stung with tears.

They weren’t coming back, and she was now all alone. Even if Mr. Smith was able to find a relative somewhere in the world, and even if they were miraculously willing to take her in, they would be a stranger. She’d never again feel the warmth of her own parents caring for her and showing her how much they loved her.

She’d never again bring her mother flowers or kiss her father on the cheek. They’d never get to see her married, meet their grandchildren, or retire in comfort in the city, as they’d once talked about. They were gone from this world, and she missed them with every beat of her heart.

Amy stood on weak, shaking legs and shuffled away from the wreckage. Nothing could undo what was done, but neither Mother nor Father would have wanted her to give up on life for their sakes. They would surely have wanted her to go on, to find a home and happiness again. Every step she took toward Mr. Smith’s office, she told herself, was to honor them.

She arrived to find Mr. Smith alone behind his desk, and she managed a small smile as she waved to him. His expression of concentration softened at the sight of her and he responded in kind. “Miss Montrose, welcome. Please, have a seat.”

Taking the chair opposite him at the desk as he’d indicated, Amy tucked her skirt under her and folded her trembling hands in her lap. She wasn’t sure what to hope for, so determined to keep her mind as empty as she could until he’d said his piece.

He shuffled some papers around and pulled a file to the top of the stack, his soft, brown eyes resting on her sympathetically as he asked in a low voice, “How are you doing?”

A fresh round of tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away before they could fall. Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she smiled and managed to speak in an even tone. “As well as can be expected. Thank you. How are you this morning, Mr. Smith?”

“I’m well, thank you.” He lifted a sheet from the papers on his desk and his eyes trailed across it as he explained, “I’m sure you’ve come to learn what I could find out about your family. I was able to find information on your mother’s sister, a Sylvia Caldwell, last known to have lived on a ranch in Colorado.”

Amy’s eyes widened. She hadn’t realized that her mother had a sister, and she’d never dreamed of ever living on a ranch. The idea lit a spark within her, the first hint of joy she’d felt since the storm. Yet, she had to temper it until she knew whether her aunt would even want her.

Clearing her throat, she asked weakly, “How old is the information? I–I mean, do we know she still lives there?”

Mr. Smith rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Her late husband bought the ranch five years ago, it seems, and every record indicates she’s been keeping it up since his death.”

Amy’s heart went out to the woman she’d never met for suffering from such a devastating loss. Yet Sylvia Caldwell had gone on in spite of her struggle, and Amy hoped to learn how to do the same. “How will we know if she wants me?”

Mr. Smith sighed softly, his brows drawing together in sympathy. “I apologize if I’ve overstepped, but I didn’t want to burden you with it or make you wait any longer than necessary for an answer. I’ve taken the liberty of writing to your aunt on your behalf, explaining to her the situation and inquiring about lodgings for you.”

Amy bit her lip to keep it from trembling. She couldn’t understand why he’d done it, but she was grateful nonetheless that Mr. Smith had been so kind to her in her hour of need. “Thank you, sir.”

He looked slightly relieved by her answer as he went on. “We won’t receive her answer for weeks, but Mrs. Smith and I would like to offer up our spare bedroom for you to stay in if you’d like.” The wrinkles around his eyes deepened with his hopeful smile, even as tears welled in his eyes.

Amy wanted to cry as well at how thankful she felt to have somewhere to go, yet she hated to impose on his kindness. “Thank you. I… I hope I haven’t been an inconvenience to you already. I… don’t have any money, but I could help Mrs. Smith with everything around the house.”

He held up a hand and shook his head. “You don’t need to pay us back in any way. We’ve kept that room up to board a number of those in need over the years.”

Emotion twisted his face, and he turned his gaze to some faraway corner. “It… well, it was once a nursery, but we never had use for it then. This is how we like to give back to the town and everyone in it. We only want to see you well off, my dear.”

Tears poured down her face before she could stop them, and she rushed around the desk to wrap her arms around his neck in a hug. “Thank you.”

***

The weeks passed and Amy had settled in a bit too comfortably. The Smiths would never be able to replace her parents, but they did everything in their power to ensure she was cared for and as happy as she could be considering the circumstances.

By all rights, she was happy in between the long moments of despair over all she’d lost. She was learning how to be herself again, as difficult as that was some days. A part of her didn’t want her aunt to answer back, or to say she could go live in Colorado. A part of her would’ve been content staying there with the Smiths until she met some handsome man who would sweep her off her feet and marry her.

When another young woman was suddenly left in need of a home as well, though, Amy understood that she couldn’t in good conscience take the place that was meant to help others. The two of them shared the small, spare room for a few days, but Amy knew that the best thing for everybody would have been if she moved away.

The queue at the post office snaked outside, turning the corner of the building, and Amy was glad to have arrived early. The late spring sunshine warmed her from above and she breathed in deeply, closing her eyes and reminding herself of all she had to be thankful for.

When her turn arrived, Amy felt a nervous flutter in her stomach as the postal worker handed her a letter with her name on it. The sender was Sylvie Caldwell, and Amy’s cheeks flushed as she wondered which name was right, Sylvia or Sylvie.

She thanked the middle-aged woman sitting at the desk and rushed outside with her heart hammering in her ribcage. Now that she had the letter in her hands, her fingers trembled as they tore through the parchment holding her newfound aunt’s response.

“Amy Montrose,” the letter began. “My sister and I weren’t very close, but I’m sorry to hear that she and that husband of hers have passed. Sad to say, I didn’t even know of your existence until now, but you are family, and that means something.”

Amy paused while she blinked back tears enough to keep reading. “Your letter came at an interesting time, and I find myself inclined to offer you a place to stay for a while. Just till you get on your feet. In this envelope, there is enough money to buy a ticket to Colorado.”

Her breath caught with emotion. She was going to be alright, although she’d be leaving the only hometown she’d ever known. “Write me before departing, to make aligning plans. Looking forward to your arrival soon. Aunt Sylvie.”

Her tension dissipated as she released a slow breath, and she suddenly felt lighter on her feet. The pounding of her heart slowed, and she stared into the distance with the determination to make the most of her new life. Though her loss still sank its talons into her beating heart, she inwardly promised her parents that she wouldn’t waste the chance she’d been given.

It did her good to imagine that they were looking down on her with all the love they’d ever shown her, and that she could still make them proud going forward.

---

“The Outlaw’s Legacy of Love” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

In the aftermath of a devastating storm, Amy Montrose finds herself uprooted and seeking refuge with her harsh yet compassionate aunt on the untamed frontier. However, as she adjusts to her new reality, little does she anticipate that amidst the turmoil, she will discover a budding affection for the enigmatic ranch hand, Gabe.

Can Amy find refuge in the arms of a man whose secrets run as deep as the canyons?

Gabe arrives at Caldwell Ranch harboring secrets and a singular mission: to safeguard those around him from the hidden threats lurking in the shadows. Yet, as he finds himself drawn to Amy, her spirit becomes a source of light in the darkness of his past. While ranch life is hectic, a danger draws near —an old nemesis seeks to destroy the delicate balance of life on Caldwell ranch.

Will he stay true to his purpose, or will his growing feelings for Amy become an insurmountable distraction?

Amidst the challenges and perils, Gabe and Amy’s bond deepens, forged by shared experiences and the undeniable pull of their hearts toward each other. In the face of danger and uncertainty, will Gabe and Amy’s love prove strong enough to withstand the trials of the frontier?

“The Outlaw’s Legacy of Love” is a historical western romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

Get your copy from Amazon!