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Eyeing the leather-bound book through cracked eyelids, Josie rolled onto her back. She'd read most of it during the past week. Only a few pages remained. Curiosity propped her weary eyes open. She'd read the last few passages then go to sleep.
August 30, 1865
I have decided not to carry on with this journey. There is a town nearby and the land here welcomes me. It is a vast open space, but there is a stark beauty that speaks to my loneliness. Aunt Abigail tells me I am too deep in my own grief for such a decision, but I know it is the correct one. I have more than enough gold pieces to buy a small plot of land, the hired man, Mr. Harrison, has agreed to stay on. I do believe he did so only to remain near Abigail, but I dare not ask either of them outright. The emerald earbobs and other jewelry I sewed into my clothes have limited value here, as this is not a place where jewels are seen or celebrated. After the decadent displays of my parents' home, that is a relief. In jest, I told Abigail I would bury them. This scandalized her, of course.
September 29, 1865
We have purchased a plot near a tower of rock they call McPherson's Bluff. Our acreage lies in its shadow. The days are filled with far too much work to play, but I find myself sketching the bluff by the light of the evening fire. Abigail and I are determined to make a go of our little farm. My mother would look askance at the blisters on my hands. She had such hopes that I would follow in her footsteps and marry a man of a certain standing. My dearly departed John did not meet her requirement. Even though all has not happened as I planned when Abigail and I departed from St. Louis, I do not regret my choices. My mother had despaired of ever making a lady of me. I had despaired of what would happen if she succeeded.
October 15, 1865
Mr. Franklin Layton pai
d a call today. He owns a ranch nearby. I could tell from his eyes that he is a kind man. They are a green-brown color with gold flecks. He is not John, but a good man. I told him I would look forward to his next visit.
November 30, 1865
Franklin comes to court nearly every day now. Abigail wonders when he ever tends to his cattle with the amount of time he spends here. I wonder how I manage not to expire while he is gone. I know when he approaches long before I see the dust his horse kicks up as he crosses the prairie. When we walk together I fear my heart will burst from my chest. My dearly departed John will always be a part of me, however I do believe Franklin is my future happiness. He is a man who is a part of this place. Strong and brave. He stands against the winds that never stop blowing and challenges the elements to stop him. My heart weeps each time he leaves to return to his ranch.
December 23, 1865
So it is done. I have buried my past, forgotten the large house in St. Louis and tomorrow will become Mrs. Franklin Layton. The weather cleared today as if Providence smiled upon us. Though the air was quite cold, I walked along McPherson's Bluff, its limestone walls familiar to me now. Here is where I said goodbye to all I was and greeted my new beginning. This shall be my final entry in this diary.
Josie traced her finger across Rebecca's ornate script with its curves and curls. She could picture a small farmhouse out in the flat plain. Okay, her vision looked a lot like Little House on the Prairie, but she doubted she was that far off base. What a life Rebecca had lived. The treasure Saul had spoken of had to be the emerald earrings and other jewelry she'd sewn into her garments. They must be worth a small fortune.
Her head sank farther down into the fluffy pillows. In the dark behind her eyelids, a face came to light; an all-too-familiar face with hazel eyes that reminded her of a tiger on the prowl. And he was after her. Heat pooled in her belly as the man in her imagination stalked closer, naked from the waist up. Her nipples stiffened. His long fingers found the button of his jeans and flicked it open. In her mind, Josie urged him on, practically begging him to lower the denim from his lean hips. He hooked his thumb in his waistband and—
Damn it, Celestine was right. She needed to get the hell out of this cabin and force Sam out of her head.
Twenty minutes later, she pounded the fat pillow for the hundredth time, trying to mold the feathers and her lustful thoughts into submission. But she couldn't vanquish visions of Sam's burnt-sienna locks between her thighs as his tongue twisted a figure eight around her clit.
Might as well just go with what her body wanted.
Sliding her fingers under the waistband of her panties, her mind replaced her fingers with Sam's. Slowly, she traced the path he'd taken, remembering the feel of his firm tongue on her most tender of spots. With all the foreplay her imagination had put her through, it didn't take long before vibrations started in her core and spread to her thighs. Almost before she was ready, her body tensed and her climax lifted her shoulders off the bed and arched her spine.
The thundering on her door evaporated her post-orgasm bliss. The clock read 1:13. Her heart rate sped up for a much less sexually satisfying reason. No good ever came from visitors at this hour. She yanked up her pants then sprinted to the door, unlocked it and whipped it open.
“'Bout damn time. It's colder than a witch's tit out here.” Celestine marched in and shoved a cordless phone toward Josie. “You got a call.”
Her heart hiccupped in her chest. The black plastic rectangle transformed from a communication device into the harbinger of doom.
“What are you waiting for, me to hold it up to your ear? He said it was important.”
God, what if Snips had found Cy? Or their parents? Panic grabbed ahold of her throat and squeezed tight. Stop being such a fucking chicken and take the stupid phone.
Clamping down on the last bit of calm she had, Josie grabbed the phone and held its icy receiver to her ear. “Cy?”
“You wish, you little bitch.” Snips’ voice lashed her as cruelly as a whip. “That Saul sure is a chatty old guy, nearly talked my ear off tonight. How's Dry Creek, Nebraska?”
Her stomach sank but his words buoyed her spirits. If he was talking to her, that meant he hadn't found Cy. “It was better five minutes ago.”
“That smart mouth is going to get you in trouble one of these days.”
“So I've been told.” Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself to sell the lie. “Look, I'll get you the money.”
“Can the bullshit, I heard all about your brother's secret visit to the diner. Not all of the waitresses there are as snooty as you.”
Josie bit her bottom lip in surprise and every ounce of badass attitude deserted her. She stared at the knot in the oak doorframe and waited, breathless, for the other shoe to drop.
