enrage Uncle Edward and spoil
his dreams of uncountable wealth. Was she so selfish that she would
deny her uncle the vast success this alliance with John Breen would
produce? What was wrong with her that she couldn’t accept her lot
in life and do as she was bidden? Maybe, she thought, on a gulp of
misery, she should stay and make the best of this stupid
marriage.
But at the thought of it a sick shaking
overtook her. No. John Breen was an unsavory man, despite his
smooth good looks, his impeccable fancy clothes, his wealth. And if
the suspicions Gil had voiced about him were true, he was ruthless
and crooked as well. She wasn’t prepared to sacrifice herself to a
man like that just to please her relations. Uncle Edward and Aunt
Katharine had always had quite enough money to live in an elegant
fashion, and they would simply have to continue in that mode,
making do without the boundless grandeur they envisioned.
She strode to the bed and flung the exquisite
ivory gown onto the floor. She was leaving. Tonight. And no one had
better try to stop her.
* * *
She went at midnight. The ranch house was
silent but for the creaking of the floorboards and the moaning
whisper of wind against the windowpanes. Juliana tiptoed down the
long flight of steps, carpetbag in hand, and slipped through the
darkened hall to the kitchen. The kitchen door squeaked as she
pulled it open, and Juliana’s breath caught in her throat. Bright
moonlight illuminated her path to the barn, filling her with
apprehension that she would be outlined clearly to anyone glancing
outside, as she made her way around the vegetable gardens and past
the stone well.
Several horses whinnied when she slid loose
the bolt on the barn door and ducked inside. It took a few moments
for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, but she dared not use a
lantern. She counted the stalls until she came to Columbine’s, then
calmed the horse with a lump of sugar and a few loving pats before
hoisting the heavy saddle into place. It took only a few moments to
strap the gray carpetbag to the saddle and lead the mare from the
barn, but every second seemed a lifetime of suspense.
She used a fence post to mount and swung into
the saddle, scarcely able to breathe. At any moment she expected to
hear a shout, to find herself confronted by Bart Mueller or John
Breen himself. But when at last she sat atop the mare and stared
out at the moon-frosted land before her, every nerve in her body
started to tingle. She urged Columbine to a gallop, leaning low
over her mane, and rode like fire across the plain, never looking
back.
It wasn’t Denver she headed for. That was the
first place Breen and Uncle Edward would look. Juliana’s
destination was Amber Falls, a little town seventeen miles west.
She was gambling that it was on the stagecoach line, and that from
there she could cross the Rockies to the Arizona border. In her
reticule was the handful of gold she had sneaked from Uncle
Edward’s money pouch under his mattress while everyone was
downstairs at supper. She had left in its place the pearl earbobs
Aunt Katharine and Uncle Edward had given her on her nineteenth
birthday. No doubt they would still call her a thief when they
found out—a thief like her brothers—but Juliana was beyond caring
what anyone thought. She gripped the reins more tightly and leaned
forward with a little cry of exultation, reveling in the slap of
the wind against her cheeks. The mare’s legs tore at the earth,
faster and faster, while the moon sailed overhead. And Juliana’s
heart swelled with the elation of a trapped creature set free.
But there was fear in her as well, a fear she
had to fight to control. She would have only one chance for
freedom. She couldn’t slow down, couldn’t hesitate, couldn’t make a
single mistake. Every second counted.
By dawn the search would begin.
6
Deathly silence surrounded Twin Oaks as John
Breen confronted his foreman in the privacy of his library.
Ice-cold calm gripped the
his dreams of uncountable wealth. Was she so selfish that she would
deny her uncle the vast success this alliance with John Breen would
produce? What was wrong with her that she couldn’t accept her lot
in life and do as she was bidden? Maybe, she thought, on a gulp of
misery, she should stay and make the best of this stupid
marriage.
But at the thought of it a sick shaking
overtook her. No. John Breen was an unsavory man, despite his
smooth good looks, his impeccable fancy clothes, his wealth. And if
the suspicions Gil had voiced about him were true, he was ruthless
and crooked as well. She wasn’t prepared to sacrifice herself to a
man like that just to please her relations. Uncle Edward and Aunt
Katharine had always had quite enough money to live in an elegant
fashion, and they would simply have to continue in that mode,
making do without the boundless grandeur they envisioned.
She strode to the bed and flung the exquisite
ivory gown onto the floor. She was leaving. Tonight. And no one had
better try to stop her.
* * *
She went at midnight. The ranch house was
silent but for the creaking of the floorboards and the moaning
whisper of wind against the windowpanes. Juliana tiptoed down the
long flight of steps, carpetbag in hand, and slipped through the
darkened hall to the kitchen. The kitchen door squeaked as she
pulled it open, and Juliana’s breath caught in her throat. Bright
moonlight illuminated her path to the barn, filling her with
apprehension that she would be outlined clearly to anyone glancing
outside, as she made her way around the vegetable gardens and past
the stone well.
Several horses whinnied when she slid loose
the bolt on the barn door and ducked inside. It took a few moments
for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, but she dared not use a
lantern. She counted the stalls until she came to Columbine’s, then
calmed the horse with a lump of sugar and a few loving pats before
hoisting the heavy saddle into place. It took only a few moments to
strap the gray carpetbag to the saddle and lead the mare from the
barn, but every second seemed a lifetime of suspense.
She used a fence post to mount and swung into
the saddle, scarcely able to breathe. At any moment she expected to
hear a shout, to find herself confronted by Bart Mueller or John
Breen himself. But when at last she sat atop the mare and stared
out at the moon-frosted land before her, every nerve in her body
started to tingle. She urged Columbine to a gallop, leaning low
over her mane, and rode like fire across the plain, never looking
back.
It wasn’t Denver she headed for. That was the
first place Breen and Uncle Edward would look. Juliana’s
destination was Amber Falls, a little town seventeen miles west.
She was gambling that it was on the stagecoach line, and that from
there she could cross the Rockies to the Arizona border. In her
reticule was the handful of gold she had sneaked from Uncle
Edward’s money pouch under his mattress while everyone was
downstairs at supper. She had left in its place the pearl earbobs
Aunt Katharine and Uncle Edward had given her on her nineteenth
birthday. No doubt they would still call her a thief when they
found out—a thief like her brothers—but Juliana was beyond caring
what anyone thought. She gripped the reins more tightly and leaned
forward with a little cry of exultation, reveling in the slap of
the wind against her cheeks. The mare’s legs tore at the earth,
faster and faster, while the moon sailed overhead. And Juliana’s
heart swelled with the elation of a trapped creature set free.
But there was fear in her as well, a fear she
had to fight to control. She would have only one chance for
freedom. She couldn’t slow down, couldn’t hesitate, couldn’t make a
single mistake. Every second counted.
By dawn the search would begin.
6
Deathly silence surrounded Twin Oaks as John
Breen confronted his foreman in the privacy of his library.
Ice-cold calm gripped the
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