Page 2 of Fairest of Heart

Penelope gripped her hands together tightly in her lap, closed her eyes, and recited a few of her favorite lines from The Miller’s Daughter.

“With farther lookings on. The kiss,

The woven arms, seem but to be

Weak symbols of the settled bliss,

The comfort, I have found in thee.”

Madame LaBelle leaned back, a gleam of satisfaction shining in her dark eyes. “Ah, so you’re a romantic.”

“Sentimental, perhaps,” Penelope conceded. “I find that men in the real world rarely live up to poetical expectations.” Hence the need to clobber Gerard Carlisle over the head with a silver tea tray last week, forcing her to leave his mother’s employ without a reference.

Madame LaBelle laughed, the sound throaty and jaded. “I like you, Penelope. If you’re as good at removing stains and pressing dresses as you are at reciting sappy poetry, you will suit my purposes admirably.”

Penelope lifted her chin to look her new employer in the eye. “I’ll work hard for you, ma’am. You’ll have no cause to question my dedication.”

“That’s good.” Madame LaBelle rose gracefully from the sofa, an intensity firing in her eyes that dispelled all comradery from the room.

A frisson scurried down Penelope’s spine as she pushed to her feet.

“I demand unswerving loyalty from my employees, Miss Snow. Serve me well, and you will be rewarded. Betray me, and you’ll find yourself tossed out on your ear. Are you willing to accept my terms?”

Penelope swallowed. Miss Wyndham had made it clear when Penelope left the school this morning that she would not be welcomed back. Scandal tainted her after the incident with the Carlisles, and scandal would destroy a school that relied on a pristine reputation to recruit students.

Edith had called this position with Narcissa LaBelle an answer to prayer, arising at just the right time to meet Penelope’s greatest need.

A sea parting to open a way for her to escape her troubles would have been preferred, but it seemed her miracle was more in line with the caravan that arrived at just the right time to spare Joseph’s life when his brothers sought to kill him. Slavery hadn’t been much of an improvement of his lot, but Joseph made a life for himself through hard work and integrity. He earned his master’s respect, and in the end, God led him to a life of blessing. She could do the same. She would do the same.

Fighting off a shiver of trepidation, Penelope steeled her nerves and straightened her spine.

“I accept.”

1

BOSQUE COUNTY, TEXAS

SIX MONTHS LATER

Come out with your hands up!” Titus Kingsley sighted down the barrel of his Winchester repeater from his protected position behind a dilapidated wagon.

It had taken three days to track the Buchanan brothers to this homestead outside Walnut Springs after they robbed the bank in Meridian. Captain Bill McDonald had assigned Titus the case along with two other Texas Rangers from Company B. It was his first time to ride lead, and he aimed to bring his quarry to justice. At twenty-seven, he lacked the experience of the more seasoned officers, but he’d been the one to piece together the connection between the Buchanans and the railroad machine shops in Walnut Springs, so Captain Bill had given him free rein to follow his hunch and chase the bank robbers to ground.

“You’re surrounded by Rangers, Buchanan.”

Carson was covering the rear, and Hoffman stood ready, tucked behind the side of the barn about forty yards west of the ramshackle house where the brothers were holed up.

Titus lifted his head just enough to throw his voice across the yard. “You ain’t gonna win a shootout. Better to surrender peacefully.”

The loud clink of breaking glass drew Titus’s attention to the window left of the door. A pistol barrel poked through the opening, knocking away the jagged shards of the rectangular windowpane a second before the gun fired.

Titus ducked behind the wagon bed. He’d suspected the Buchanans weren’t terribly bright, but opening fire on a group of trained Rangers confirmed it.

Hoffman’s rifle cracked off a three-shot volley from the barn, drawing their attention and giving Titus the chance to find a better angle. Dropping to his knees, he crawled under the wagon and slithered down to the hitching end, where he’d have a clear line of sight to the window.

A second weapon broke through the glass. Higher and to the left. Revolvers. Deadly, but they lacked range. Hoffman should be fine if he held his position at the barn. Carson was the one Titus worried about. The kid was wet behind the ears. Good marksman, but he tended to rely on his gun more than his brain. Which was why Titus assigned him the rear guard. Carson would keep the Buchanans from escaping, if it came to that, but Titus intended to keep the brothers occupied and take them down before they made the attempt.

Titus flattened onto his belly and dragged his Winchester in front of him. Raising up on his elbows, he tucked the rifle stock into his right shoulder and used his left hand to support the barrel. He slowed his breathing. Sighted his target. And fired.