Chapter One
April 1874, Liberty, Missouri
"I wouldn’t wait nine years on any man." Darcy Branson
spoke to Emma Nash as they stood in the fitting room of
Darcy’s dress shop. The upcoming marriage of Darcy’s cousin,
Jesse James, to his longtime sweetheart, Zee Mims, was the
subject of speculation among those who knew about the secret
wedding. Darcy thought nine years was an unreasonably long
courtship. Of course, there was a lot to be said for
waiting. If she had waited that long before marrying
Stephen, she might have learned the truth about her Prince
Charming before it was too late.
"At least Zee isn’t going to end up an old maid like
everyone thought," Emma said.
Darcy nodded as she helped Emma try on a lovely gown of
topaz silk faille. However, there were much worse things
than being an old maid. Like being a vengeful wife who had
gotten her husband murdered. That was, indeed, worse.
Emma smiled with excitement as she looked at her
reflection in the cheval mirror. "I do love this dress," she
said. "I don’t know how I will ever repay you."
"You owe me nothing." Darcy smiled, happy that she could
provide a pretty gown for Emma, who could not have afforded
it otherwise. Some of the well-to-do old biddies in towsaid
she was too generous toward the less fortunate. She didn’t
think so. Generosity reaped its own reward. "Mister
Caruthers will be completely smitten with you."
Blushing at the mention of her beau’s name, Emma turned
to Darcy. "Why don’t you wear that emerald gown you bought
in Saint Louis to the wedding?"
"No." She always wore black.
"It is time—"
"No." It would never be time.
"Stephen has been dead for almost three years now. Long
enough that no one would think ill of you if you put aside
mourning colors."
Darcy removed the tape measure that hung around her neck.
She was a graduate of the San Francisco Academy for Young
Ladies, where she had been taught good manners and social
graces. She knew exactly what was and was not proper. She
sighed. "The rules of etiquette change nothing." They were
only words in a book. "They can’t change what is inside me."
They couldn’t change what she had done. She splayed her hand
over the waist of her black bodice. "Black suits me."
The jingle of the bells attached to the front door of the
shop came as a welcome diversion. She left Emma to admire
herself in the mirror and went to wait on her customer. She
stopped short when she saw the customer was a man. Rarely
did a man enter her dress shop, only the occasional local
business owner looking to buy his wife or sweetheart a gift.
The tall, darkhaired man standing with his back to her as he
looked at the ready-made frocks on display looked more like
a gunman than a gentleman. A black duster fell from the wide
span of his shoulders to his knee-high boots, and he held a
center-dented black hat in his left hand. Men who dressed
like him lived in the saddle. Uneasiness spread through her.
The large bounty offered for her cousins, Frank and Jesse
James, had brought a number of unsavory men into the town of
Liberty. It was a dangerous time, especially for those
connected to the outlaws. No one trusted outsiders.
The customer appeared particularly interested in the
expensive emerald gown that Emma had suggested she wear to
Jesse’s wedding. It was a lovely dress. One she had fallen
in love with the moment she saw it in Saint Louis. She
squared her shoulders as she made her presence known. "May I
help you?"