Amber had grown up as the oldest of seven children in a very poor family in St. Louis, Missouri. So, when a wealthy Texas rancher had ask her to marry him she had jumped at the chance for a better life.
She did not know until they arrived at the ranch just how isolated the ranch was or the true personality of her husband.
Jace Prescott's father was a sheep rancher and his mother was an Apache Indian. Jace grew up under the cruel hand of his father and the hatred of the people of Wolf Creek, Texas because he was a half-breed Apache.
When his mother died his father deserted him; leaving him with nothing but the small ranch. With the help of an uncle and a lone white man he managed to grow to manhood and eventually became a marshal in El Paso county.
Amber and Seth did not meet under the best of circumstances but soon found they had a strong attraction for each other that eventually turned to love. Together they face the adversities in the still untamed American west.
Preview:
When he took off his hat to her she found herself looking up and into the eyes of the best looking man she had ever seen. She thought he looked like he might be part Indian since his hair was as black as a raven's wing and his brown eyes were so dark she could hardly see the pupils. He was well over six feet tall with broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist where two large handguns rode on his hips.
Looking at her closely he noticed her waist was so small he felt he could put his hands around it and his fingers would touch. Her eyes were a clear dark blue and her nose was small and turned up slightly at the end. He couldn't decide what color her hair was. It wasn't blond; it wasn't red. It reminded him of the color of honey.
The Marshal's Lady
By Connie CarsonAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2011 Connie Carson
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4670-5400-3Chapter One
Wolf Creek, Texas 1847
As Amber was dressing that morning she studied herself carefully in the mirror and saw the bruises were hardly noticeable anymore. As always, there had been no reason for the last beating except Brett had been drunk and as usual, when he had been drinking he had turned mean.
The good thing that came out of his drinking binges was afterwards he always disappeared for several days. She never knew where he went during those times and she didn't care. For her own personal protection she didn't ask and she didn't want to know. All she knew was those were the only days she didn't live in fear. He was always in a better mood when he returned and seemed to have more money than when he left, leading her to believe he did something illegal while he was gone.
She had met Brett when he had gone to St. Louis on business where she had lived with her family. One afternoon when she had gone to the livery stable where her father was working Brett had come to look at a mare stabled there that was for sale.
Although he had been quite charming she had not been overly impressed with him. But he had impressed her father with his smooth talk and the money he obviously had. When he came by their house that evening to talk to her father about the mare and had shown an interest in her, her father had insisted she encourage his interest.
At the time she had been only seventeen and had just completed her schooling. She had still been under the complete control of her father, who had been anxious for her to marry and leave so he would no longer have to support her.
Brett had seemed nice enough while he had been there and he wasn't bad looking. While he had been courting her he had taken her to restaurants and other places that, until that time, she had only dreamed of going to. He had even taken her to the theatre.
It had been the day they had gone on a picnic that she had seen a side of him she had never seen before. On the way back to her house an elderly man's horse had spooked, causing the man to temporarily lose control of the horse and his buggy had nearly careened into theirs.
When they caught up with the man she had expected Brett to check to see if the man had been hurt and to see if he could help him in any way. Instead, he had jumped out of the buggy and grabbed the man by the front of his shirt and then backhanded him several times while using words she had never heard before.
When he had come back to the buggy he had been his usual smiling, charming self. When she questioned him about his treatment of the man he had told her a man who couldn't control his horse didn't have any business driving.
If she had not been so naïve at the time his treatment of the man that day would have been an indication to her of what her future with him would be like.
When Brett had proposed her father had insisted on the marriage in spite of her objections. Even considering the amount of money Brett obviously had she had not been looking forward to moving to the unsettled and lawless new state of Texas.
At least she knew if she married Brett she would no longer be hungry. There was seldom enough food on the table for the nine of them. Always concerned about the younger children, Amber had more often than not given most of her meager share to one of them.
Amber was the oldest of the seven children. If her mother's behavior when she had left home had been any indication of things to come, there was soon to be an eighth child.
The day before they married Brett had given her the largest sum of money she had ever seen and told her to buy some clothes, saying it would be her last chance to shop for a while. Little had she known at the time how true that statement would turn out to be!
Two days after his proposal they were married and on the coach headed for Texas.
Her mother had talked to her a little about what to expect on her first night as a wife. But nothing could have prepared her for what she had gone through that first night with Brett. Even knowing she had never been with a man he had been rough and unfeeling with her, leaving her hurt and scared.
That had been over two years ago. She had only been off the ranch four times since arriving and those trips had been to the tiny little frontier town of Wolf Creek with Brett for groceries and supplies.
Brett had told her his ranch was several miles from town. What he had neglected to say was several miles was actually fifteen miles over a rough and un-kept road and the population of that town was less than two hundred people. The nearest neighbor was Ben Crayton, an unmarried man whose ranch was five miles away.
They had been at the ranch less than a month when Crayton and another rancher, Nate Price, had come by to talk to Brett. After supper the men had spent the remainder of the evening in Brett's office drinking and laughing loudly.
Brett had walked them to the door when they left and had then come into the parlor where she was. By that time he had been so drunk his speech had been slurred and he could barely walk. Grabbing her by the arm he had pulled her from the chair, where she had been sitting mending a tear in one of his shirts, and accused her of being overly friendly with one of the men.
Nothing could have been farther from the truth. She had found both men to be quite unappealing. When she denied the charges Brett had called her a liar, shoved her against the wall and began hitting her until she was almost unconscious.
Dragging her up the stairs and into the bedroom, he had proceeded to tear her clothes off her and had forced himself upon her. He had never been gentle with her but she had never known real pain or fear until that night.
The more she had cried and pleaded the meaner and more violent he had become. She learned from that experience not to protest or resist when he was in one of his drunken rages.
The next day, without a word to her as to where he was going or when he would be back, he left. The second day he was gone one of the cowboys had come to the house and told her the foreman had gone with Brett. When she had looked at him blankly he asked, "What do you want us to do?"
As they had talked she noticed the man kept looking away from her. She was almost certain the reason for that was because he was embarrassed by the bruises he saw on her face and wrists.
She had noticed from the very beginning that unlike most of the men he was a rather quiet, soft spoken man who was very gentle with the horses. She knew Brett and some of the other men teased him and accused him of acting like a woman because of his gentle nature. When she thought back on it later, she was almost certain when he had asked for her help he had been trying to let her know the men understood what she was going through and sympathized with her.
Having always lived in the city until she had married, she knew nothing about the workings of a ranch but the man had seemed so desperate she had taken pity on him. Taking a deep breath she had gone to the bunkhouse with him to see how she might be of help.
After talking with the men she felt they were all quite capable. It seemed all they needed was someone with a little authority to lead them. So, she had appointed one of the men interim foreman. Since then the two of them had managed the ranch when Brett was away. To her surprise Brett had not seemed to object to that arrangement. In fact, it seemed he couldn't care less about what was done on the ranch while he was away.
It had been during one of the times he was away that Amber had received a letter from her oldest sister, Daphne, telling her that indeed their mother had been with child when she had left but she and the baby had both died during childbirth. At least, Amber thought, her worthless father wouldn't have another child to try to feed and clothe.
There were so many things she wanted to talk to her mother about and share with her but now she would never be able to do that. She wished she could have seen her one last time and said good-bye to her. At least now her mother was finally at peace.
With Brett being gone, for how many days this time she had no idea, she knew she would again be in charge of running the ranch; a job she had actually come to enjoy. The time she spent working were hours she didn't think about Brett and how miserable her life was. Several of the men had indicated to her the ranch ran better under her care than it did Brett's. Like her, many of them seemed to be happiest on the days he was away.
She had just finished breakfast and was thinking about all that needed to be done that day when there was a knock at the door.
Expecting one of the ranch hands she was surprised when she opened the door to see a stranger standing there.
"Mrs. Madison?" the man asked in the deepest yet softest voice she had ever heard.
When he took off his hat to her she found herself looking up into the eyes of the best looking man she had ever seen. She thought he looked like he might be part Indian since his hair was as black as a raven's wing and his brown eyes were so dark she could hardly see the pupils. He was well over six feet tall with broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist where two large handguns rode on his hips.
"Yes. I'm Amber Madison."
"I'm Marshal Jace Prescott. I'm afraid I have some bad news for you," he said as he took a step closer to her. There was a moment of silence before he continued. "There was a stagecoach hold up and shooting outside of Ysleta Friday. I came to tell you your husband was killed."
After another moment of silence Amber said, "Don't worry Marshal, I'm not going to faint. Won't you come inside? If you were expecting a grieving widow I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you," she told him as they walked into the library. "The only feelings I had for my husband were contempt and fear. So now the only feelings I have about the news you have so reluctantly brought is relief.
"Forgive me if I sound cold hearted but since you were kind enough to ride out here, I feel you have the right to know why I'm not grieving over what you just told me," she said as she took down the picture that hung over the front of the wall safe.
To her surprise Brett had given her the combination to the safe shortly after they had arrived at the ranch. Since then she had opened it for him several times when he had been too drunk to remember the combination.
She had never counted the money in the safe but was certain there was a large sum. Besides the money there were also two locked metal boxes in the safe. One was light in weight and the other was very heavy. She had recently overheard Brett telling Ben Crayton he kept all his money in the safe because he didn't trust the bank. She had always felt his reason had more to do with not wanting anyone to know how much money he had rather than not trusting the bank.
As she was getting some money out of the safe Jace looked at her closely and saw the bruises on her face and arms. The bastard was not only a thief and probable murderer he was a wife beater as well, he thought to himself.
How could any man want to hurt this beautiful woman? he asked himself as he looked at her closely. Her figure was perfect. Her bust was ample without being too large and her waist was so small he felt he could put his hands around it and his fingers would touch. Her eyes were a clear dark blue and her nose was small and turned up slightly at the end. He couldn't decide what color her hair was. It wasn't blond; it wasn't red. It reminded him of the color of honey.
What the hell's wrong with me? he thought, mentally shaking his head. I'm thinking like a love sick young buck.
"Ma'am, I don't think you're cold hearted in the least. From what I've learned about your husband the past couple of days I wouldn't blame you for any bad feelings you had about him."
"Would you please make the funeral arrangements for Brett?" she asked as she handed him the money. "This should be enough to pay for it. If it's not please let me know. Just make it as simple as possible. I know this may sound strange but I have no intention to see his body or to even go to the funeral."
"I'll be glad to take care of the arrangements for you," he told her as he took the money.
"If you don't mind me asking, are you planning to stay out here? If you want to sell the ranch I know several ranchers who would probably be interested in buying it," he told her.
"I know exactly what I'm going to do. I'm going to sell this ranch and move into Wolf Creek. It's what I've wanted to do since I first saw this God forsaken piece of land two years ago.
"Brett had several offers from men who were interested in buying the ranch. I intend to see if any of them are still interested. It may take me a while to sell it because I know exactly what it's worth and I don't intend to sell it for a penny less. I may be a woman but I'm not a fool."
"No ma'am, I don't imagine you are. But be careful," he warned. "Wolf Creek may be small but it has its share of men who would be interested in a pretty young widow with money.
"It's none of my business but don't you have some family you can go to?" Jace asked. "I'm afraid Wolf Creek doesn't have much to offer."
"Believe me Marshal I'll be better off in Wolf Creek, no matter how little it has to offer, than I would be with my family. Don't worry about me, I can take care of myself. I've learned a lot about life and especially men in the past two years since I've been here.
"Now Marshal, will you do me a favor?"
"Yes ma'am. Just ask."
"Please don't call me Mrs. Madison. Now that my husband is dead I'm going to try my best to forget I was ever Mrs. Madison. Please just call me Amber." With those words she smiled, revealing two of the cutest dimples he had ever seen.
Before riding off, the marshal had wished her good luck selling the ranch, but she noticed he had not tried to console her before he left. He was obviously astute enough to see she was truly carrying no grief or sorrow at the death of her husband and felt only relief. She appreciated him not extending insincere sympathy.
After the marshal left she had gone to the bunkhouse and told the ranch hands about Brett being killed. None of them seemed upset or even surprised. One of them had said he hoped the foreman, Riley Cooper, who had gone with Brett the day he had left didn't return. It seemed the men's only concern had been what was going to happen to the ranch.
She told them she was going to sell the ranch but promised she would not sell to either Nate Price or Ben Crayton, no matter how much they offered. She also assured them if Cooper came back her first action would be to fire him. She could almost hear the men's sighs of relief at her words.
As she had expected, the next day Crayton and Price, who had heard of her recent widowhood, came to the ranch and offered to buy it. Their offer had been so low she had almost laughed in their faces. When Crayton smiled maliciously at her in a very suggestive way and said if she didn't want to sell the ranch, she should marry him so he could take care of her and the ranch, she had laughed.
"You'd like that wouldn't you?" she asked. "You would then not only have the largest ranch in the area, you would have a woman to push around as well."
The violence she saw in the man's eyes at her words convinced her she had been right in thinking life with him would be no different than it had been with Brett.
"You're a fool," he had said with a sneer. "You'll never get a better offer than I just gave you. I'll give you a week to change your mind before I withdraw my offer."
"I sincerely doubt I'll change my mind," Amber said as she turned and walked to the door and opened it, letting them know she had nothing more to say.
She had sent a note to one of the men who had shown an interest in the ranch and who she knew would not insult her with his offer. He immediately replied that he was interested and would be by the next day to talk to her about buying it.
True to his word he was there the next morning.
After only an hour they had agreed on a price. Although the price he had paid had not been overly generous she knew it was a fair one. She might have gotten a higher price had she been willing to wait, but having nothing but bad memories of the ranch she wanted to sell it as quickly as possible. She also wanted to leave as soon as possible in case Ben Crayton returned and threatened her because she had sold to someone besides him.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Marshal's Ladyby Connie Carson Copyright © 2011 by Connie Carson. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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