Branded Hearts. Diana Hall

www.millsandboon.co.uk

       DIANA HALL

      If experience feeds a writer’s soul, then I must be stuffed.

      

      I’ve worked as a pickle packer, a ticket taker at a drive-in movie, a waitress, a bartender, a factory worker, a truck driver cementing oil wells in south Texas, a geological technician with oil companies, a teacher, a part-time ecological travel agent and now an author. The only job I’ve kept longer than five years is wife and mother.

      

      A geographical accident, I was meant to live in the South. After high school I left rural Ohio and attended college in Mobile, Alabama. There I fell in love with balmy nights and the beaches of the Gulf. I lived in Texas, but now live in the Lehigh Valley of Pennsylvania with my understanding husband, a beautiful daughter, a sedate, overweight collie and a hyperactive dalmatian.

      To Mom and Dad:

      Thanks for all the love and support through the years, especially this past one. Thanks for being there when I needed you most.

      Love,

      Your daughter Diana

       Prologue

       Denver, Colorado, 1865

      Katherine Benton’s hands shook as she ran them down the soft silk of her mourning dress. She had to remain firm, no matter how Father tried to manipulate or frighten her. This time, her will would prevail over her father’s. Her mother’s last wish would be granted.

      Taking a deep breath, she demanded, “Mama asked me—no, begged me with her dying breath—to find my brother. And I will, just as soon as you tell me why I never knew he existed.”

      Sam Benton rested his elbows on his mahogany desk. An angry flush of red tinged his neck and cheeks. Gritting a smile, he cajoled, “Kathleen was delirious in fever before she died. Forget those ramblings.” He pointed to the stack of papers surrounding him. “Now, kitten, I have work to do.”

      Katherine gathered her fortitude and patience. She wasn’t one of her father’s lackeys, and she refused to be dismissed as one. “I’m almost sixteen, Father, not six. You don’t need to protect me from the truth.”

      The gentleness left Sam Benton’s face, replaced with the ire of a man used to getting his own way. “It’s a cruel world out there, daughter. Be glad I’m here to run interference.”

      “Mama may have allowed you to keep her in a gilded cage, but not me. I’m tired of you telling me what I can and cannot do. You won’t even allow me to see your own brother and his family.”

      “Eli’s a wastrel, riding on my coattails. That daughter of his is no better. They would only use you.”

      “Well, maybe I’ll use them—to help me find my brother. I’m stronger than Mama,” Katherine stated. “I’m not afraid.”

      “Well, you sure as hell should be,” her father roared. “Perhaps I’ve protected you too much. A little fear is a good thing.”

      Drawing a cigar from his desk humidor, he let his dark gaze search her face. “Hearing about your mother’s life might make you understand.”

      He lit the stogie and inhaled deeply. As the smoke left his lungs, he released his story. “Kathleen’s family was well off back east. When she was about your age, she ran away and married a ne’er-do-well by the name of Stoker. Her husband then blackmailed the family. If they wanted to be sure their precious daughter was safe, send more money. Her family hired me to find Kathleen and bring her home.”

      “I never knew anything of this.” Katherine slowly sank into the leather-bound chair, stunned by the revelations of her mother’s past. Mama had always been so quiet, so afraid.

      Sam’s face and tone hardened. “Before I could find her, the bastard had taken the family’s last dollar and abandoned Kathleen in the wilderness. Alone, hungry and nearly dead from exposure.”

      “Is that when you found her?” Katherine wrapped her arms around her shoulders, feeling her mother’s misery. How could her delicate mama have survived such hardship?

      The stern lines of Sam Benton’s face deepened with anguish. “I didn’t save her, a Cheyenne brave did. Eagle Talon nursed her back to health. Got her with child.”

      “My brother?” Elation bloomed in Katherine’s heart. Her mother had not been just rambling with fever. She had a brother to find, and her mother’s last wish to fulfill.

      Her father nodded. “I never stopped looking for her. After three years, the government made a treaty with the Cheyenne. All white captives had to be returned or the villages would be burned. Kathleen left, but decided that the boy should stay with his father. Better to grow up a Cheyenne warrior than cursed as a half-breed.”

      Katherine’s own heart broke at the thought of abandoning a child. The act must have haunted Mama all this time. “She must have been brokenhearted to lose a child and the man she loved.”

      “Loved?” Sam roared. He jumped from his seat, sending ash over the Persian rug. “I’m the only man your mother ever loved. Kathleen had a schoolgirl infatuation with Stoker and felt only gratitude for that Indian buck.”

      Sam ran his fingers through his gray hair, his voice cracking. “I found her when she came back to the fort, confused, weak and nearly broken with sorrow. I married her and vowed to erase those horrible memories from her mind. So we moved west, where no one knew us or her story. I built an empire of beef, mining and stocks. I bought Kathleen everything she wanted and kept her safe. Kathleen loved me, and only me, because I protected her.”

      Her father came to Katherine’s side. “And when you were born, I swore no one would ever hurt you like that.”

      Now Katherine understood her father’s anger. This lost child represented a living reminder of Father’s inability to protect and find his wife. And a rival for her love.

      Pretending submission, she asked, “But what happened to the boy?”

      “He’s an uncivilized savage on a Cheyenne reservation. Leave Winterhawk be.” The last came out a command. “He belongs to your mother’s past, not your future.”

      Sam pulled her from her seat. “And to ensure that, you are to stay in your room. Tomorrow, you are going back to Boston and finish your schooling, not searching the Colorado Territory for some Indian.”

      This time, Katherine could not fight her father’s will. Sam propelled her up the stairs and into her room. Closing the door, he spoke as the key locked her in. “You’ll thank me for this someday.”

      “No, I won’t,” Katherine fumed. “And I will find my brother.” How hard could it be to find one half-Cheyenne young man named Winterhawk on a reservation? How hard would it be to convince him they were brother and sister?

      Opening the silver filigree box on the vanity, she removed her mother’s jewels. These pearls, ruby pendants and diamond pins would finance Katherine’s search for her brother, for her mother’s son.

      Her blue traveling gown lay across a trunk marked for Boston. Pulling out her sewing kit, Katherine began to sew the jewels into the full hem. Tomorrow, when Father thought she was on her way to Boston, she would get off the train, pawn a few gems and set off in search of her brother. From this moment on, Katherine promised, she would no longer be her father’s daughter. Instead, she would become her brother’s keeper.