Colorado Dawn Read Free

portfolio. “You have the talent for it, madam. But have you the will? What say you?”
    She couldn’t say anything. Her tongue wouldn’t work.
    “I would advance you travel expenses,” he added before she could form a response. “And those of your husband, of course, as I assume he will be accompanying you.”
    “I…ah…”
    “Unless you think he might object? Shall I contact him directly? I realize this is highly unusual, but if he—”
    “There is no
he
,” Maddie blurted out, astounded by her own audacity and the lie she was about to tell. But how could she
not
do it? A new start. A new life. A whole new
country
, even. “That is to say, I’m”—
forgive me, Angus—“
a widow.”
    “A widow?” The idea seemed to delight him. “Well, then, there’s nothing to hold you back, is there?”
    “Not a thing.” And for all intents and purposes, she truly was a widow. Angus had left her in spirit almost two years ago. This physical parting was simply the final step in accepting the death of her marriage so she could begin a new life without him.
    “Excellent. I’ll book passage for…shall we say, two weeks? That should give you time to gather what equipment and supplies you’ll need. Have the bills sent to my office.” He smiled, all but rubbing his hands together in glee. “Any questions?”
    Dozens of them. Thousands. “No.”
    “Excellent! Then we’re agreed.” Hopping up, he held out his hand.
    Maddie rose on shaky legs and placed her fingers in his, hoping he didn’t feel the tremors in her hand. “Agreed.”
    And as simply as that, it was done.
    Two weeks to pack, put the house up for sale, restock her supplies, and send a note to Northbridge to inform them of her plans in case Angus ever inquired about her absence.
    America.
Just the thought of it made her giddy.

One
     
    HEARTBREAK CREEK, COLORADO TERRITORY
SEPTEMBER 1870
     
    T he Fifth Viscount of Ashby—or Ash, as his new London friends called him—rode slowly down the muddy street, Tricks padding wearily at his side, his rough coat dripping rain and mud.
    A sad place, Heartbreak Creek. Judging by the faded store shingles hanging over the warped boardwalk, and the hulking structure perched on the bluffs above the canyon that sheltered the town, it had once been a prosperous mining community. But now the machinery sat silent, the mine dark, and few people walked past the unpainted wooden buildings with their sagging roofs and boarded storefronts. It looked no different from a dozen other wee villages he’d ridden through in the last months.
    He had seen worse in Ireland—which would probably never recover from the devastation of the potato famine—and in Scotland, where the Clearances had left a trail of empty huts and overflowing graveyards across his beloved Highlands. But it was always disturbing to see a town die.
    Yet, despite the obvious decline, there were still signs of life in Heartbreak Creek. Two wagons stood in front of the Mercantile, Feed, and Mining Supplies store, and the hotel looked freshlypainted and bore a fine new sign over the front doors. But without steady commerce from mining, timber, or the railroads, the town would soon die.
    So why had she come to such a bleak place? To hide from him? He had once been a forward rider with the Rifles of the Light Division, and a man never forgot training like that. Dinna she realize that no matter where she went or how far she ran, he could still find her? She had led him a merry chase, so she had. The lass was as elusive as peat smoke, but he sensed that finally after twenty months of searching, he was getting close.
    Reining in at the rail in front of the hotel, he stiffly dismounted, twisting as little as possible as he swung down. For the last hour, pain had been gnawing at his left side like the starving hounds of hell, and he knew he would pay a high price for riding so long in the rain. Cold dampness always made his slow-healing wound ache—the crossing had been