Prologue
PROLOGUE
Odell was a one-horse town where men and women came to be forgotten. A place where those who were born here fought to get out. Rick had always assumed that his father was one of the few who had been content to live and die here.
His father had been a good man, never hurting anyone and content with life on their small farm. Just like Rick. Now here was this city lawyer telling him things he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Things that changed how he saw his father.
Why would his father have lied to him in this way? He’d convinced Rick that he’d been born here and never wanted to leave, which had instilled the same desire in Rick.
He felt lost as he stared down the dry, dusty street that was all there was to this town. If his desire to stay in this small town on his small farm came from his father and was a lie, did that mean his entire life was a lie? Was he sure he wanted to stay in these parts?
He could no longer trust what his father had taught him since he had lied about his identity. Was Rick even the same person he thought he was? And what if he chose to leave this land that had been bred into him? Could he transform himself into one of the men he’d always considered weak?
Even though he wasn’t given to drink, his gaze was drawn to the Hanged Man, the saloon at the end of the street to his right. He could easily lose himself in the rundown establishment that stood at the centre of their town as if it were its heart. Forget the rage that was building up inside him as he remembered how his mother had died.
She’d been the most sainted Christian woman he’d ever known. Yet despite having the means to buy her the life-saving medicine she had required during Rick’s twelfth year, his father had watched her waste away.
“Mr Alderson,” the big city lawyer’s cultured voice intruded, and Rick gnashed his teeth to keep from venting his rage on the hapless man. “Your father and grandfather both had pride; don’t let your own get in the way of claiming your birthright.”
“Well, as the good book says, Mr Briggs, pride precedes destruction, and a haughty spirit precedes a fall,” Rick responded before picking up his heavy rucksack and slinging it over his shoulder. That had been one of his mother’s favourite sayings.
Yeah, he couldn’t give in to the temptation to go to the Hanged Man, not with a hundred and twenty-five eagles weighing his weathered leather sack. There was no telling who had heard the news of his newfound fortune. The wild land they lived in was made for hard men. Rick had grown to be a man who trusted few people, and the shady man who passed as the town lawyer was not one of them.
“Are you going to take your rightful place within your family?”
“I have your address, sir,” he said, taking the three steps down to the dust road. “I’ll write to you once I’ve made up my mind.”
Rick made his way to the post where he’d tied his horse without looking back to see what the city lawyer was doing or thinking. His horse, Thunder, was a roan stallion with a fiery temper who would not let anyone near him. A good horse to have in an area where horse thieves were common.
As Rick approached, he snorted and tossed his head. Because the ornery beast was unpredictable, he made sure to keep within the horse’s sight and move with caution. Thunder was still prone to buck or bite him even after two years of his riding him.
He spoke in a hushed, soothing voice to the horse until it was still, and then attached his sack to the saddle, repositioning the few things he had bought before going to the lawyer’s to balance off the weight. Stepping into the stirrup, he swung his lean frame onto Thunder’s back, then rode off down the street. Despite his eagerness to depart, it was not prudent to hasten away with one thousand two hundred and fifty dollars worth of gold.
As his heart lightened, a smile spread across his craggy features. It wasn’t much compared to the majority of what his father had left him - through his grandfather - but it was sufficient for his needs. Clint and Timothy, his two friends, had been trying to persuade him to join them in purchasing the parcel of land that had lain farrow all these years and joined their small properties.
While the other two were doing well, he had been struggling. Coin was scarce this far from the cities, and he had lacked it while the other two did not. Rick was proud enough not to want them to cover his expenses. But he wasn’t too proud to accept the money from his own father, that his father had refused.
