Look for another romantic ride
into the West from
Lynna Banning
in
Happily Ever After in the West
Coming May 2011
For my dear friend Susan Renison.
With thanks to Tricia Adams, Suzanne Barrett,
Kathleen Dougherty, Karyn Witmer-Gow,
Shirley Marcus, Brenda Preston, and David Woolston
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter One
Smoke River, Oregon 1867
When Wash Halliday came home from the war, Smoke River gave him a hero’s welcome. The tattered remains of the marching band gathered in the town square wearing their faded green uniforms and once-gold buttons and blared “Hail the Conquering Hero” only slightly off-key.
His ears rang with the noise, and he felt it all the way down to his feet. He glanced down at the leather boots in which, a year ago, he had marched from the Union prison at Richmond all the way to Fort Kearney. Now, he was back in Smoke River.
Midsummer sunlight glanced off the tuba and Wash stifled an urge to duck; the flash of light looked exactly like an exploding mortar.
Thad McAllister, the graying band leader, pumped his skinny arms rhythmically up and down, up and down, but now Wash could hear nothing. A roaring noise bloomed in his head, rolled and echoed like thunder, and then a high-pitched scream began. He pressed both hands over his ears.
Stop. Stop. Behind his closed eyes the red-gold explosions began again.
“Havin’ one of yer spells, are ya?” his grizzled companion queried softly.
“What? No…no. Just can’t stop remembering.”
The sun-blackened half-Comanche furrowed his salt-and-pepper eyebrows. “Let’s get away from this headache powwow and have a drink. Saloon’s just across the street.”
Rooney was usually thirsty for some Red Eye about this time of day. Wash usually wasn’t. But today it was the other way around.