Leather and Lace

Prologue

It’s a perfect time to ride out of here. They won’t be back for hours, maybe not till tomorrow with this storm coming. A good rain will hide my tracks . . . make it harder to trail me.

Casey O’Hare scanned the early morning horizon and watched the mounting storm clouds gather, roll, and spread across a blue-black sky. A brisk wind from the east swept up small sticks and leaves, tossed them lightly, then plunged them to the ground. In the distance, lightning flashed a jagged path across the sky. No rumble of thunder, just a warning of what lay ahead.

The fresh, earthy smell of rain teased her nostrils. Heavy drops hammered onto the dry ground faster and faster, as though daring her to escape this savage life. Riding in the open during a thunderstorm would be dangerous, but so was day-to-day survival with a gang of outlaws.

She could do it alone. She could stop the wishing and dreaming and change her sordid life. I will not become like them. Somewhere in this wide country was a place called home—and she’d find it.


April 1884, Utah Territory