Trail of Secrets

Chapter 1

1Rancho Sanchez, North Texas, November 1868

A high-pitched whine buzzed by Anna Sanchez’s ear. She ducked as a bullet slammed into the stall’s support beam behind her. She pulled her pistol from the saddlebag still strapped to her horse and ran to the large door, skidding to a stop when the ranch-hand’s body fell, landing at her feet. Grabbing his boots, she pulled Clyde back inside and turned him over.

She covered her mouth with her gloved hand, staring at his mangled face. Chunks of flesh and shattered teeth were all that was left of his jaw and mouth. She blew out a long breath, and with a trembling hand, closed his sightless eyes. She kicked his feet away from the door and pushed it almost closed, leaving enough space for her to see what was going on outside.

Grabbing for his rifle, she pulled in long, slow breaths as she tried to calm her racing heart. She had no idea what was happening, but she’d be damned if she let someone come onto her stepfather’s ranch and take everything.

Her eyes popped open as loud war cries rent the air. She peered through the doors, trying to see how many Indians there were, but she couldn’t see any. Noise assailed her ears; men screaming in pain, the sound of constant gunfire, and high-pitched cries. Her heart beat out a harsh rhythm against her ribs, and nausea roiled her stomach. She forced a calming breath through her clenched teeth and focused on what she had to do.

A shrill whistle near the barn startled her, pulling her attention from the fight outside to the barely understandable hollering on the other side of the barn. A rumbling began—low at first, then increasing—until even the ground she kneeled on vibrated from the overwhelming crescendo surrounding her.

She threw a quick glance through the window to where the horses were nervously milling around the fenced corral beside the barn. With terrified gazes, they churned like butter, their gazes wide with fear.

Crawling over to Clyde’s body, she peered around the edge of the open doorway, only to jerk back from view as a group of riders raced by. The pounding of their hooves was nearly imperceptible amid the roar of the stampeding cattle. She reached down and pulled the pistol out of Clyde’s hand. After a quick check, she found only one cartridge had been fired. She tucked it behind the waistband of her pants, knowing she’d probably need it.

Taking a deep breath, she counted to three, then eased around the door and into the shadows, holding as still as she could. If someone had stayed behind, she didn’t want them to notice her. Glancing around the yard, bodies lay everywhere. Most looked as if they were struck down running for cover; two hadn’t even made it off the porch. And most of the hands had been shot with crude arrows.

She heard the distant thundering as the cattle stampeded through the field. For the first time since the raid had begun, she was able to focus on the attackers instead of dodging bullets. She scowled at the men’s retreating figures. There was not a single Indian among them! Fury raced through her like a wildfire. There was only one man strong and stupid enough to attack the Rancho—their neighbor, Wade Phillips.

Only a week ago, she’d tried convincing her stepfather that Phillips was nothing more than a thief and a cur. That the man couldn’t be trusted. Instead, he’d believed her mother, who’d convinced him that Anna didn’t trust men and was just being silly.

Running back to the barn, she refastened the front saddle cinch, which she’d been undoing when the attack started. She stepped into the stirrup and slid onto the worn leather seat, patting the horse’s neck with her gloved hand. Her anger had settled into a fiery determination, and she said a quick prayer that she’d find her stepfather alive and well when she got back.

“Okay, girl,” she whispered to her horse. “We’ve got our job cut out for us. Let’s go get us some thieves.”

With a tug of the reins and a quick squeeze of her legs, the salt and pepper gray horse trotted from the barn. However, her chase ended before it even began. Facing her in a tight circle were six mounted men—and in the middle, Wade Phillips.

“What are you doing here—you have no right!”

He sat his horse with a smug grin. “Oh, my dear, but I have every right.” He pulled something from the inside of his coat and opened it. “You see, Anna, I have the law on my side.”

Her eyes widened as she stared at the gently waving paper, dread filling her. “What is that?”

One side of his mouth rose in an evil sneer. “Why, it’s the deed to the Rancho. I now own everything on it.” One of the men beside him chuckled. “And that includes you.”

“I am not a thing to be owned. You can go to hell, Phillips!” Hatred burned through her, and she shook like a leaf fluttering in a strong breeze, trying to get a firm grip on her emotions. “Where did you get the deed to my stepfather’s Rancho?”

He slowly and meticulously folded the paper, taking his time tucking it back into his pocket and rebuttoning his coat. “Your mama came over to visit me the other day. She gave me what I’ve been fighting so hard for. The water and you. The cattle are just a bonus.”

“You’re lying. My mother may not be the most caring person, but she would never do that to me.”

“But she did. She knew you would never leave this place and didn’t want all her hard work wasted, trying to raise you to act like a lady should. You’ve been nothing but a disappointment to her, I’m afraid. She left to marry some plantation owner in New Orleans, but wanted to make sure you were at least provided for.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she worked to swallow the rising bile. How could her own mother betray her like this? What had she done to deserve such treatment? “You needn’t worry,” she replied, choking the words out. “My stepfather would never let anything happen to me.”

Low laughter filled the silence around her. “I think you will find your stepfather has his own problems—the least of all, you.” He walked his horse forward a few steps. “Now, you will come with me.”

The self-satisfied grin on his face made her uneasy, and she shook her head. “You will never get me to leave my home!” With a driving urgency to find her stepfather, she kicked her horse harder than she ever had. As the horse charged forward, a loud gunshot sounded, and the horse stumbled. The mare took a few more hesitant steps then stumbled again, dropping to her knees.

As the horse fell on her side, Anna pulled her leg from the stirrup in an attempt to keep from being pinned to the ground. Scrambling to the mare’s head, she sobbed, gently rubbing her horse’s cheek as the poor animal struggled to breathe. With one last shuddering gasp, the mare died.

Jumping to her feet, Anna whirled around. “You killed her, you—you…” She took one step forward then felt something hard hit the back of her head. Her vision dimmed. She blinked several times and swayed, trying to focus. Her knees buckled and she fell to the ground.