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A marriage of love is more than Hanna ever dreamed of. For her family, surviving the rugged trip west, claiming a parcel of land and planting their first crops on the vast prairie are the only things that matter. Which is why the unexpected passion she feels for her husband is all the more poignant. But even as she longs to trust the strong bond growing between her and Blake, Hanna knows it will take courage and grit to overcome the differences between them. And even greater strength of will to put down roots in this wild new country.
The epic tale of the settling of the American West comes to vivid life in this inspiring saga of love, hope, and endurance.
CHAPTER1
Blue Moon, Montana
July 4, 1909
Hanna stood next to her stern-faced father, one foot tapping out the beat of the polka. Couples whirled around the rough plank floor to the music of the old-time accordion band. She would’ve given anything to join them. But Big Lars Anderson had already turned down three cowboys who’d asked to partner with his daughter. Hanna would’ve said yes to any of them, just to get out there and dance. But Big Lars had made his position clear. Those rough-mannered men from the ranches, even the polite ones, weren’t fit company for an innocent girl.
As if being guarded like a prisoner wasn’t bad enough, her mother had forced her to dress like a twelve-year-old, in a white pinafore, with her long, wheaten hair in two thick braids. But even the girlish costume couldn’t hide the breasts that strained the bodice of her gingham dress. She was almost seventeen years old, with a woman’s body and a woman’s mind. When would her parents stop treating her like a child?
As the music flowed through her limbs, Hanna gazed at the deepening sky, where the sun was just setting behind the rugged Montana mountains, turning the clouds to ribbons of flame. It was so beautiful. How could she complain after such a glorious day—a celebration of America’s freedom in her family’s new home?
As she breathed in the fresh, free air, her memory drifted back to the tiny apartment in the New York slum, where she’d helped her mother tend the babies that just kept coming. Her father had worked on the docks, barely making enough to keep food on the table. When her older brother, Alvar, had turned fourteen, he’d gone to work there, too. In the desperation of those years, the American dream that had brought her parents from Sweden had been all but lost.
But then the news had traveled like wildfire through the tenements. Thanks to the passage of the new Homestead Act, there was free land out west. All they had to do was get there on the train, build a cabin, farm the land for five years, and it would be theirs, free and clear.
Now the dream had come true. Hanna’s family and their neighbors had claimed their parcels of rich Montana grassland. The fields had been plowed; the wheat was planted and growing. On the anniversary of America’s independence, it was time for friends and neighbors to celebrate an Independence Day of their own.
The festivities had begun earlier that afternoon with picnicking, races, games, and now a dance, with fireworks to end the day. It was the homesteaders, like Hanna’s family, who’d planned the event; but the whole town, as well as the folks from the big cattle ranches, had been invited. That included the woman-hungry bachelor cowboys who’d shown up hoping to dance with the daughters of the farm families.
So far, the cowboys hadn’t had much success. The immigrant fathers had guarded their girls like treasures. They wouldn’t trust rough-mannered ranch hands anywhere near their precious girls.
But the girls, even the shy ones, were very much aware of the men.
“That cowboy is looking at you.” Hanna nudged her friend Lillian, who stood on her left. Lillian, an auburn-haired beauty, was only a little older than Hanna, but she was already married, which made all the difference in the way she was treated.
The cowboy in question stood on the far side of the dance floor. He was taller than the others, with black hair and a hard, rugged look about him. Hanna knew who he was—Webb Calder, son of the most powerful ranch family in the region. And yes, he was definitely looking at Lillian.
“Does he know you?” Hanna asked.
Lillian shrugged and glanced away, but not before Hanna had noticed the color that flooded her cheeks. She was married to Stefan Reisner, a humorless man even older than Hanna’s father. Lillian wasn’t the sort to play flirting games with men. But it was plain to see that Webb Calder had made an impression on her.
As if to distract Hanna, Lillian gave a subtle nod in a different direction. “Nowthatcowboy, the one in the blue shirt and leather vest. He was just looking atyou.”
Hanna followed the direction of her friend’s gaze. Something fluttered in the pit of her stomach as she spotted the rangy man standing at the break between the wagons that surrounded the dance floor. He was hatless, his hair dark brown and thick with a slight curl to it. His features were strong and solid, and there was pride in the way he carried himself—like a man who had nothing to prove.
But even though he might’ve been looking at Hanna earlier, he wasn’t looking at her now. His gaze scanned the dance floor and the watchers who stood around the edge. He started forward. Then, as if he’d been called away, he suddenly turned and left.
* * *
Blake Dollarhide swore as he made his way among the buggies and wagons toward the open street. The Carmody brothers, who worked at his sawmill, had been warned about picking fights with the homesteaders. But with a few drinks under their belts, the two Irishmen tended to get belligerent. If they were making trouble now, Blake would have little choice except to fire them. But before that could be done, he’d probably have to stop a fight.
With the dance on, Blake had hoped to get a waltz or two with pretty, blond Ruth Stanton, whose father was foreman of the vast Calder spread, the Triple C Ranch. It was no secret that Ruth had her eye on Webb Calder, who would inherit the whole passel from his father, Chase Benteen Calder, one day. But there was no law against Blake’s enjoying a dance with her. He might even be lucky enough to turn her head.
Taking anything away from Webb Calder would be a pleasure.
Ruth had been free for the moment. Blake had been about to cross the floor and ask her to dance when he’d heard shouts from the direction of the street. A quick glance around the dance floor had confirmed that the brothers weren’t there. Dollars to donuts, the no-accounts had started a brawl.
Blake broke into a run as he spotted the trouble. The two Carmody brothers, small men, but tough and pugnacious, were baiting a lanky homesteader who’d probably left his friends to find a privy. The confrontation was drawing an ugly crowd.
“Pack your wagon and go back to where you came from, you filthy honyocker.” Tom Carmody feinted a punch at the man’s face. “We don’t need you drylanders here, plowin’ up the grass to plant your damned wheat, spoilin’ land what’s meant for cattle. Things was fine afore the likes of you showed up. Worse’n a plague of grasshoppers, that’s what you are.”
“Please.” The man held up his hands. “I don’t want trouble. Just let me go back to my family.”
“You can go back—after we show you what we do to squatters like you.” Tom’s brother, Finn, brandished a hefty stick of kindling. Readying a strike, he aimed at the homesteader’s head.
