The Hermit’s War (Preview)

Prologue

When Madeline Banks woke up that bright spring morning, she had a song in her heart and a dream on her mind. She sat up, immediately turning to see where her husband would normally be when he was home. He wasn’t that day… not yet. A tingle ran through her body when the thought that he would be home around noon came to her mind. It was about time. Three months he’d been gone, helping out at the railroad to get some extra money. She had her own skills running a ranch and the finances, too, but was greatly helped by their foreman, Freddy Orr. 

Freddy was an older man, but he was still strong and healthy, something he thanked the Lord for every morning, he’d told her. He would be 60 in the upcoming summer but looked and acted ten years younger at least. He was a blessing to the Banks Ranch. 

Madeline slid out of bed and hurried to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. The housekeeper, Stella, would be arriving in two hours to take over the cleaning and kitchen duties. Madeline enjoyed having the early morning hours alone to her thoughts. 

That would change. Madeline grinned when the words passed through her mind. It would change around noon. Freddy would leave to go get her husband from the train station and bring him home to her. 

She hummed a tune while she pumped the water into the tea kettle and set it on the round eye of the woodstove. She took the container of tea down from the cabinet and set it on the counter. 

Hearing a voice outside, she turned around sharply. It was rare to hear someone yelling at that time of the morning. Freddy and the ranch hands were respectful and didn’t get rowdy, even after a night of drinking. Additionally, if they were being rowdy down at the saloon, they’d just stay a night in the boarding house so Madeline wouldn’t be bothered. 

She took the few steps to the window and looked out at the scene. The bunkhouse was on that side of the house, as well as the horse pasture and pen. The fields of wheat and corn were on the other side. 

What she saw made her stand and stare. Apparently, the weather damage on one side of the bunkhouse was dilapidated and large chunks of ancient wet wood had started falling off, leaving her ranch hands that stayed there exposed to the weather, no matter what temperature it was. Madeline, after consulting Michael by telegram, told them to replace the wall. 

Freddy was standing in front of the newly built wall with his arms crossed. He grinned wide when Dave yelled from up above and dodged the chunk of old roofing the ranch hand chucked at him. He took several steps to the side, laughing, his hands over his head. 

Madeline looked up at Dave, the only Irishman on her crew. He was a jokester and liked playing innocent pranks on his coworkers. It was clear he was having some trouble repairing the roof and the other men were teasing him. His face was bright with a smile, showing a surprisingly straight white row of top teeth. When he smiled completely, it was apparent the lower half was as good as the top. Madeline marveled at that.

Dave yelled something down at Freddy. She couldn’t hear it with the window closed. She just heard the muffled sound of Dave’s voice. 

Freddy gestured wildly at Dave flapping one arm. He moved back so he was staring up again and was slapping the back of one hand into the palm of the other. It sounded like he was giving Dave tips. 

Madeline liked the respect Dave showed Freddy. He stopped what he was doing and balanced himself on the roof, looking down at Freddy with a serious face and nodding several times. She could tell he was yelling questions and Freddy was returning with the answer. 

Dave went back to work after giving Freddy a final nod. Freddy turned away and stared at the front of the house. Madeline’s heartbeat sped up a little, she watched Freddy, trying to see what he was seeing but unable to from her vantage point. 

She had just decided to hurry to the front door and go out on the porch when a rider came into her view. He stopped and spoke to Freddy. 

Curiosity getting the best of her, Madeline went through the kitchen to the foyer and out the door. She rounded the house to see the rider had dismounted and had given Freddy a slip of paper. Freddy was reading it. 

“Freddy?” Madeline called out, lifting one arm in the air to get his attention. 

His eyes darted from the paper to her, and she froze where she was. That look in his eyes… that look of horror, sorrow, devastation… Why did Madeline recognize that look? 

Why did her mind fill with concern for Michael? She tried to get her wits back together. This had nothing to do with Michael. Perhaps something had happened to someone in Freddy’s extended family. 

“Maddy,” Freddy said, breaking away from the crowd of ranch hands that had surrounded him, even Dave, who had practically jumped down the ladder. 

Some of them managed to read what was written on the paper as they hovered over Freddy’s shoulder. When they were done, it wasn’t Freddy they looked at sympathetically. 

It was her.

She shook her head as Freddy came toward her, feeling her knees begin to buckle under her. “No… no… no, what is it, Freddy? Tell me what it is! Tell me Michael is fine and coming home early! Tell me!”

Freddy’s eyes had already filled with tears. He shook his head back at her, holding out his arms and enveloping her with them. 

“I’m so sorry, my sweet girl,” Freddy mumbled in her ear.

It was the last thing she heard before she gripped onto him, sobbing, unable to believe how quickly her life could change. 

Chapter One

Five years later, the day before the anniversary of Michael’s death, Madeline was lying in her bed, reading by candlelight. She’d finally gotten her hands on a new book called The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain. So far, she was really enjoying the tale and was finding it hard to put it down. Her eyes swept over the words, taking her to an imaginary place where she could immerse herself in the shenanigans of a young boy. 

It was surprising that at the age of thirty-one, she could relate to the carefree Huckleberry and found many of his antics amusing. She thought it sounded like fun to be in Mark Twain’s imaginary world.

She sat up, resting the book on her lap, open to the page she was reading and reached up to the pins and combs in her hair. As she continued reading, she took them all out, letting her light blonde wavy hair fall around her pale cheeks and over her shoulders. She had a round face with features that fit perfectly together. She was tall for a woman, towering over most women at 5’6 and enjoyed being around men who were taller than her, which was most of them. 

Freddy was at least six feet tall, and his spine was straight as an arrow, even at sixty-five.

When she had removed all the pins and combs, having dumped them all in the drawer in her nightstand, she felt around for her brush without looking. She was engrossed in what she was reading so when the picture frame on top of the stand fell forward, smacking the wood, she jumped, her eyes darting to the picture. 

Madeline snatched it up, feeling as if she’d just slapped her late husband. He stared out from the picture, the trace of a smile on his lips, his eyes black in the photograph but she remembered the deep brown color they truly were. It was something photography could never capture, especially with only white, gray and black as the available colors in modern photography. 

Were they considered colors? The question popped into her mind as she held the picture in front of her, brushing her fingers lightly on the flat depiction of her heart, her lost love, her Michael. The question disappeared as quickly as it came, memories flooding her mind. 

Madeline sighed, setting the picture on the nightstand and gazing at it for a few minutes. She had found peace with what had happened. It took several years but she was able to live on without grieving for the rest of her life. She would always remember him, but their time together was fading in her mind. She remembered the love she felt more than any visual memories in her mind. 

Her heart still pitter-pattered for him whenever she thought his name. It didn’t take a specific memory. Just a word, a smell, a thought. She noticed whenever she met someone else named Michael, taking every opportunity to inform them it was also the name of her deceased husband. She didn’t know why she felt the need to tell them. Someday she hoped to break that habit.

She sat on the bed for a moment, brushing her long, wavy blonde hair, staring out into space lost in thought. 

A knock on her door broke the trance she was in. Her eyes darted sharply to the door.

“Yes?” she responded. 

“Maddy? Are you decent?”

Madeline grinned, hearing Freddy’s familiar and much beloved voice on the other side. “Come on in, Freddy, I’m decent.” She’d laid across the quilt on her bed in her robe, the long belt tied in front of her to keep it closed. There was no need to go to bed when the weather outside was against those plans. She could be needed at any moment if that storm threatening them came on as full force as it looked like it would. She could hear the wind blowing outside even with her window closed.

The tall wooden door opened, and Freddy entered, looking just a bit haggard. He was still fit and looked years below his actual age but when he was tired, his true age showed through. 

“The animals are stowed away in the barn, Maddy,” Freddy spoke, standing just inside the door with his hat in his hands. “You gonna try to get some sleep?”

Maddy shook her head, gesturing with it to the clothes draped over her dressing table chair. “I’ve got my clothes right there in case I need to make a quick escape.”

Freddy lifted his eyebrows. “If the storm hits us real hard, my dear, there will be no escaping.”

He spoke so bluntly. Maddy was used to it but for some reason, that warning hit particularly hard. 

“Do you think the weather is going to wreak havoc with the ranch?” she asked tentatively. She wanted to be confident and for him to reassure her, but he wasn’t a liar. He wouldn’t tell her something just because that was what she wanted to hear. He’d proven that five years ago.

The thought that the next day was the anniversary made her heart squeeze, a feeling of dread passing through her. 

“We’ll make it through the night, I’m thinking,” Freddy said. “But the monsoon season has just started. We have to be careful that we don’t assume we’re not in danger when there could be a terrible storm on the horizon.”

Madeline slipped out of bed, rubbing and flexing her fingers through each other. “Oh dear, what will we do if we lose animals? What about Brutus. Did you check on him?”

Freddy chuckled. “That bull knows how to keep himself safe. Most of the animals do, it’s just sheep and some of the cows that don’t seem very smart. They’re individuals just like us and Brutus lives up to his name. He’ll be all right.”

Madeline nodded. “Okay, I trust your judgement, Freddy, even when you don’t ease my fears.”

“It’s my job to warn you,” he said with a shrug. “I wouldn’t be doing my duty if I let you think we were fine when a strike of lightning could burn the house down.”

Madeline scowled. “It’s fine for you to be blunt, Freddy, but you don’t have to bring hypotheticals into it.”

Freddy laughed softly under his breath. “Sorry about that,” he replied genuinely. 

“It’s okay. You go on and do what you need to do and if I am needed, just let me know.”

“All right. See you in the morning.”

Madeline walked to the window to look out at the dark clouds, nodding. “You, too.” She said even though she had turned her back to him. She heard the bedroom door close and stared out at the gray skies, that sense of dread filling her that she hated so much. She could only pray the storm would pass over without tearing apart her property or whisking her animals away. 

She returned to the bed and sat on it, stretching her legs out in front of her. From that moment on, she couldn’t fall into the imaginary world she’d been reading about a few minutes ago. Now her mind was filled with worry. 

On impulse, she took the picture of Michael out of the frame and tucked it into the pocket of her robe where it would be safe and close to her. 

Just as she got it tucked in, she heard yelling through the window. Her bedroom was on the second floor right over the kitchen. She frowned and slid out of bed again, hurrying to the window to see what was happening by peeking in between the boards of the shutters. 

This time, much like five years ago, she saw Freddy in a confrontation with another man. This time, it wasn’t Dave the prankster. It was a stranger. She narrowed her eyes, her senses tingling. The man Freddy was arguing with did not look friendly. Although it wasn’t late at night, the clouds blocked the sun, making everything outside her window look dull and gray.

Her eyes widened in shock and dismay when she saw the stranger take a few steps back just before a gunshot rang through the air.  

Chapter Two

Madeline was sent into a panic. She spun around and ran to the unused nightstand on the other side of her bed. She’d cleaned it out of Michael’s things long ago but there was one thing she’d left behind. 

His pistol. The box of bullets sat next to it, the only two things in the drawer. Her hands shook terribly when she snatched them both out and dropped them on her bed. Her heart thumped a mile a minute as she did her best to control the trembling long enough to load the gun with bullets. 

She didn’t trust the men who had been standing around the stranger. She had five ranch hands and only three of them stayed on the property with Freddy. The stranger was with almost a dozen men, none of them looking friendly. 

Madeline could see them in her mind as she loaded the gun. She wouldn’t have enough bullets either. Freddy wasn’t known to keep his pistol on his side when he was working. No one had ever attacked the ranch before. There wasn’t a need. 

With a finally loaded gun, Madeline darted from the room and went down the stairs, her gun in one hand, the other sliding along the railing and her eyes stayed steady on where she was putting her feet. She didn’t want to fall. 

The staircase ended in the middle of the foyer, and she ran from the last step to the front door, grabbing the door handle, turning it and dashing out. Until that moment, she hadn’t heard the commotion going on next to the bunkhouse. Her ranch hands had likely been woken by the gunshot. If she knew anything about those men, she knew they were loyal. 

“Just get back! Get back! We don’t want no fight with you!” Freddy yelled. There was something about the tone of his voice… it sent shivers up Madeline’s spine. He sounded like he was in pain. Great pain.

Madeline went flying around the corner, holding up her robe and skirt underneath so they wouldn’t make her stumble. She skidded to a stop, her eyes widening again, this time so much it hurt a little. The moment Freddy’s eyes laid on her, every man standing against him turned to look at her. 

She saw the hungry looks on their faces. Surely, they hadn’t come to violate her. There were plenty of women in town that would give these men their pleasures. 

“Maddy!” Freddy roared, his voice both panicked and furious at the same time. “Get back in the house! Secure yourself in the house! Run! Run!”

When the time was appropriate, Madeline had no problem obeying orders and taking flight. She did just as Freddy told her to, though she had already seen the blood seeping through the front of his shirt. Her heart broke for him, but she would be no help having only five bullets when there were nearly a dozen men snarling at her, laughing maniacally as they came after her. 

She couldn’t get up the porch steps fast enough. She slammed the door behind her, locking it but both windows that flanked the door were immediately busted through. She saw one leg come through and took for the stairs with all her might. Her mind buzzed with possibilities, searching for an idea how to save her own life. 

When she got to the top of the stairs, she dared to turn around and shot the pistol once without aiming at anyone in particular. In the general direction was enough for her. She wasn’t a sharpshooter but she had good aim when she used it.

To her satisfaction, one of the men cried out and fell backwards but there was still a swarm of them getting closer by the second. 

Her bedroom wasn’t far away. She shot through the door, spun around and slammed it shut. There was a door lock, but it would be nothing for these men. She turned it anyway and hurried to the dressing table, which was next to the door. Shoving the chair out of the way, she pushed the table as hard as she could until it was in front of her door.

“Oh Madeliiiiinnne,” she heard from the other side. It repulsed her that these men even knew her name. “It’s me, Colt! I’m your friend! You remember me?”

With a sickening feeling, Madeline did recognize the man’s voice. Colt Holmes was a man her husband had known. She couldn’t recall whether they’d done business together and didn’t think Colt was there to check up on another man’s wife because of bad weather.  He clearly hadn’t come for conversation.

She ran to the window on the other side of the room, opening the window and shoving the shutters out quickly. She looked down. The ground seemed so far away. Fear slipped through her. The only men left were Freddy, the three ranch hands, who were standing, their muscles clearly tense, their hands balled into fists as they stared at the enemy in front of them. 

The sound of the shutters got their attention. The strangers looked up at her at the same time as her ranch hands. 

“Miss Maddy!” the men cried out, turning toward her. To their credit, it only took them a few seconds to turn back, moving in front of the enemy to block them from getting to her. 

“Be careful, Miss Maddy!” One of them called out. “There’s a trestle under your window, climb down it!”

Before climbing out the window, Madeline looked back at her door, hoping the men on the other side didn’t hear what her ranch hand had said.

“Leave me alone!” she cried out, just to make sure they thought she was still in the room. She climbed out, continuing to yell at the men outside her room, pretending she was afraid. She heard wood splintering just as she got on the trestle. They were breaking through the door. 

The ranch hands had begun pummeling the enemy, wrestling with them, keeping them from shooting at her. 

She slipped down the trestle quickly, upset with herself for not putting her boots on and wearing her nighttime slippers instead. They formed around her feet nicely, but they weren’t much protection against what she might step on outside. 

She kept her mind as clear as she could, struggling not to let fear overwhelm her. She got to the ground just as a raindrop fell on her head. 

Her heart sank. The rain would start soon. How heavily would it come down? What if she didn’t make it to shelter beforehand? She looked up and sent a desperate plea for her safety. 

She dashed away from the house, not looking back. How long would she be away from her home? What if the bandits killed all her men and took over her ranch? She might never get it back. She might die trying. 

She didn’t need the rain to make her face wet. Her tears streaked down her face. She glanced back when she made it to the end of the horse’s pasture. Her ranch hands were still bravely fighting. Freddy was on the ground, which caused Madeline great pain in her heart. The swarm of men that had followed her to her room had come back out by that time. One of them spotted her and she plunged into the woods, praying the sunlight blocked by the clouds would increase so she didn’t fall down a ravine and kill herself. 

     She just needed to get to the bottom of Sangre Mountain. There was a pass through the mountain that was known to be treacherous for travelers. She needed to get to the base of the mountain where she might find shelter in a cave or a vacant hunting cabin. 

Colt Holmes. What did he want with her?

Chapter Three

Either she was hearing things, or Colt Holmes was still yelling her name a few minutes later as Madeline searched the ground for a trail through the woods. If she was on a trail, at least then she’d know that it led somewhere. Michael had gone hunting in these woods many times, but that practice had never interested Madeline. She was perfectly willing to skin and cook up the food that was brought to her, but she wasn’t going to kill it herself, even if her father had taught her how when she was just a child. 

He’d only let her go hunting with him a handful of times because Madeline was an excitable little girl, who had loudly pointed out the beauty of the woods on more than one occasion, scaring off any potential game. 

Through her misery and fear, Madeline felt a soft smile come to her lips when she thought about her father. She’d had a good childhood despite losing her mother at a young age. Her father made good money as an accountant for the city of Sangre in Texas. She didn’t remember ever wanting for anything. And since she wasn’t a greedy or materialistic person, she grew up understanding the value of a dollar. 

She found a trail and began to follow it. She heard men yelling behind her. They were coming for her. She couldn’t slow down now. Every time she glanced back, she saw the bobbing of their lanterns and wished she had brought one herself. 

There hadn’t been time. A hunting cabin would have one on the premises though. It should anyway. Was there one along this trail? She didn’t know. She regretted never going hunting with Michael even once. 

As the darkness set in, and the rain delayed its downpour, Madeline was having a harder time seeing. She had to slow down. She didn’t have a choice. The men pursuing her hadn’t given up the task. They were close enough at one point that she thought about hiding and letting them pass her. Would that work? 

She thought about it harder, continuing her trek slowly. The trees above her bunched their branches together, blocking out any light that might shine through from the moon, which was likely blocked by thick clouds anyway. 

Madeline was disheartened and terribly frightened. She held onto the gun with all her might until her palm hurt and her fingers were numb. She was still shaking like a leaf. 

“Madeline Banks!” 

She heard it so clearly, she jolted to a stop and froze where she was. She dared to turn around slowly but didn’t see the bouncing lanterns of the men following behind her. She let out the breath she’d been holding, sweeping her eyes left to right, searching for the bobbing lights that reminded her of fireflies. 

“Madeline Banks!”

Colt was shouting her name from somewhere nearby. Why couldn’t she see them? Had she gone crazy? Where they right there, coming up on her? Had they turned their lanterns off? 

Fear made her shake so hard, her teeth chattered. She forced herself to turn around and continue down the trail she’d been following. 

“Madeline Banks!” 

Now it sounded like Colt was in front of her. Madeline felt so confused she didn’t know whether to go forward or run back. Should she try to get back to her ranch? Should she check on Freddy and her other men? 

Something told her that would be a mistake. If she went back in the other direction, she might run directly at her pursuers. Just because it sounded like Colt was in front of her didn’t mean he was. It could be his voice bouncing off the mountain she was running toward. She was aware that such things happened. 

Gathering all her courage, determined to get to a hunting cabin or somewhere safe, she kept moving in the direction she was going, staring hard at the ground so she would stay on the path. Her eyes had adjusted just enough to let her see shadows and the grey floor of the earth she was trying to follow. 

The next time she heard her name; it sounded like Colt was moving away from her. Her heart was instantly calmed, though not all the way. She still tingled with fear, the rain making its debut adding to the difficult time she was having. 

Big wet raindrops landed on her head several times, dripping from the trees above her in unusually large drops, soaking her almost instantly. She shivered, though it was a warm shower that would likely soon turn into a devastating storm.

Madeline wished she was back at home, curled up in her bed, reading Huckleberry Finn. Her bed seemed so far away from her at that moment. 

As if God had drawn her to it, she spotted a miniscule outpost not far from her. She would have to go off the trail to get to it but all she could think was that it would be drier under the roof of the outpost and there might be a lantern and other supplies there. 

She prayed for safety once more as she stepped off the trail and went carefully toward the outpost. It was a lookout tower. Madeline had no idea when it was built. It was high up in the air, higher than the surrounding trees. She was pleased with it because it seemed such a safe place for her to stay. Then she thought how trapped she would be if she went up into the tower and the men found it, too. There would be no trestle to climb down from way up there. 

Still, the thought that she could be dried off during the worst of the storm and that there might be supplies there drew her to it. She continued, carefully stepping on the leaves, twigs, rocks and grass under her feet. The slippers gave her no protection at all. One of them might have a little rip on the bottom if she was honest with herself. The woods had not been kind to her footwear. 

Madeline reached the outpost, which was set in a clearing that lit up like it had its own spotlight. She looked up and noticed a sliver of the moon had come out between two clouds dumping water on her head. It was enough light for her to see the ladder from where she was. She ran to it and began to climb, not looking behind her again, not thinking about Colt and his men until she got to the top. 

Would she be able to see them from there? 

She pushed on the floor of the outpost, relieved that it went up. It wasn’t locked. She flipped the opening and went through quickly, climbing from the ladder into the round tower, closing the opening immediately. It had a latch, which was nice, but wouldn’t keep the bandits out if they chose to come up. 

Madeline looked around her, breathing in quick bursts. The outpost was round, with a counter running all the way around. There were several things on the counters, like a lantern, a telescope and a book of some kind. It looked like a manual with tattered pages. 

Breathing slower now, Madeline got to her feet and went to the lantern. She couldn’t light a match with her wet fingers. She needed to dry off first. 

She spotted a folded white cloth on one of the other counters and hurried to it. She would be all right in here for now, she thought, placing her gun on the counter when she picked up the towel and dried off her face. She grasped the matches and lit the lantern, spotting another one across the room, which she also lit, setting one on one side and one on the other. As soon as the match flame lit the dark night, a thought flashed through her mind. Would the men be able to see the light?

Madeline glanced at the windows that surrounded all but one side of the octagon shaped building. Was the light worth it? She would keep it low burning, she decided, just so she could look around. She was weary and would sleep at some point anyway. Maybe until the next day, when she wouldn’t need the lantern. 

She stared through the open, glassless windows. The roof hung over the edge enough that the rain couldn’t get into where she was. She blinked back tears of fear mixed with relief. Was Freddy dead? What did Colt want with her? Why had he come on such a terrible day in the first place? The weather was too bad for this nonsense.

Sighing heavily, Madeline looked out at the rain, trying to calm her heart. 

“It will be all right.” She could hear Michael’s voice in her mind. “You’ll be all right.”