Chapter One
Faithful,
Texas 1866
WANTED!
BOYS FOURTEEN AND OLDER TO HERD CATTLE
TO SEDALIA, MISSOURI.
WILL BE PAID $100 AT END OF DRIVE.
IF INTERESTED, SEE THE TRAIL BOSS AT 7 IN
THE MORNING OUTSIDE THE GENERAL STORE.
With her heart thundering, Samantha Reynolds read the
notice that someone had tacked to the wall outside the
general store. A hundred dollars seemed like a fortune.
What she wouldn't give to be a boy, so she could have the
opportunity to earn that money for her family!
At sixteen she could barely remember the last time that
coins had jingled in her reticule. Mr. Thomas, the owner
of the general store, allowed her family to buy on credit.
He kept a tally of supplies purchased and debts owed.
Samantha didn't want to consider how long their tally
sheet was getting to be. It had been months since her
mother had been able to hand any money over to Mr. Thomas.
At this very moment her older brother, Benjamin, was
loading their most recent purchases into the wagon. At
twenty, he was old enough to be hired for the cattle
drive. But she knew it would be nearly impossible to
convince him to go. Since he'd returned from the war that
had devastated many of the southern states, he was
reluctant to do anything that took him away from their
farm.
Her sister Amy was fourteen, old enough. But just like
Samantha, she wasn't a boy. Her younger brother, Nate, was
only twelve. He wouldn't qualify.
Samantha thought about the bolt of blue calico she'd seen
inside the store. She wanted to sew a new dress, but the
material was expensive as all get-out at ten cents a yard.
She was wasting her time longing for it and hankeringfor
any of the frippery and finery that the general store was
slowly starting to stock, now that the war had ended.
Still, she did yearn for things. She wanted the life she'd
had before the War against Northern Aggression,as most
folks in these parts referred to it. She longed for people
to start laughing again. Or if they couldn't laugh, at
least to smile once in a while.
A hundred dollars wouldn't return life to the way it had
been, but it would purchase several bolts of calico,
canned goods to last through the winter, a new hoe, some
chickens, a cow, and too many other things to count. She
got dizzy with the possibilities swirling through her mind.
"I think we ought to have us a spring dance," the girl
standing beside her on the boardwalk said.
Lost in thought, Samantha had almost forgotten Mary
Margaret Anderson had been visiting with her. They'd been
best friends forever. They'd sat beside each other in the
one-room schoolhouse until they were fourteen and passed
the exam that proclaimed they knew all that was to be
taught. They'd shared confidences and dreams.
"We finally have some fiddle players in the area, and most
of the boys learned to play a harmonica while they were
away," Mary Margaret added.
"Do you even know how to dance?" Samantha asked
distractedly, more interested in the notice than in
dancing. If she stared at it long enough, maybe the words
would change to include girls.
"For pity's sake, Samantha Jane, I could learn," Mary
Margaret told her. "So could you.'
"Why would I want to learn to dance?"
"Because we're growing up!" Mary Margaret pointed out.
Samantha knew she should be excited at the possibility of
attending a dance, but she had very little interest in
boys. She remembered a time when she'd raced against them,
climbed trees with them, even on a few occasions wrestled
with them, but that was years ago.
Before most of the boys in the area had run off to join
the army as soon as they were old enough to beat a drum.
She'd matured into a young woman with no males around to
speak of, except for those who were too old to fight and
those too young to hold a weapon. She'd experienced no
dances or Sunday picnics or peering coyly beneath her
eyelashes at a young man across the classroom. The war had
taken the young men from the classroom and placed them on
the battlefields.
Although many had returned home, none had struck her
fancy. Mary Margaret was constantly talking about boys.
How handsome Jeremy was, or what pretty eyes Luke had.
If Samantha noticed boys at all, she noticed how strong
they looked, mentally figuring how many acres of land they
could plow in a clay. She certainly had no desire to have
one stepping on her toes while they danced.
She didn't want to talk about the local boys or the
possibility of a dance. She preferred to discuss ways to
case her mother's burden, but once Mary Margaret turned
her mind to a subject, she stuck with it.
"Do you think Benjamin would ask me to dance?" Mary
Margaret asked.
Samantha snapped her gaze to Mary Margaret. She had her
complete attention now. "Benjamin?"
She was surprised to see twin spots of red appear on Mary
Margaret's cheeks.
"I think your brother is fine looking," Mary Margaret
admitted.
"Do you fancy him?" Samantha asked. She'd never thought of
her brother attracting any girl's attention — least of all
Mary Margaret's.
"Of course I do. Not that it does me any good. I'm
invisible, as far as he's concerned:' Frustration rippled
through her voice.
"Benjamin isn't noticing much of anything these days,"
Samantha said kindly. Benjamin had returned from the war
minus an arm. She didn't blame him for resenting his loss,
but it did seem that his anger was hurting him more than
anything else had. "He's still adjusting to coming home
not quite whole."
"Lots of fellas lost limbs," Mary Margaret said. "Benjamin
is still strong, though...