Into a Blizzard of Revenge (Preview)

Chapter One

Dakota Territories, 1885

The harshest winter of the past ten years was about to get a lot worse. At least, that was what Mr. Rogers had predicted when he’d dropped off the mail that afternoon. While the old man tended to be correct in his weather assessments, Eric Morgan hoped he was wrong. 

Eric trudged through the deep snow, his boots crunching with each step. Under his arm, he held a brown paper bag full of items from the store. It had been another slow day at the mercantile, and Patricia would worry about money. 

Perhaps the little treat he’d slipped into the bag would soften the news, if only a little. 

“Ma! Ma! Alex pushed me!” a shrill voice cried from within the little home. 

“I did not,” a second, slightly lower voice quipped. “I was running and Liza got in my way!” 

“Well, you ought not be running in the house! Ma has told you time and again, hasn’t she?” 

Eric smiled to himself as he lingered just outside his door. The sound of his eight-year-old twins squabbling was music to his ears. He’d always wanted to be a father, and there had been a time not so long ago when he worried it might never happen. 

He hadn’t married his wife until he was thirty, and it had taken two years before she finally told him she was pregnant. It had been welcome news from the start, and the news had become even better when she’d given birth to twins. 

“Alexander and Elizabeth!” Patricia’s voice broke into the conversation. “You both know how to behave. Wash up now, your father will be home shortly.” 

The squabbling continued, and Eric opened the front door. A gust of frigid winter wind blew him into the small home, causing the children to squeal and his wife to gasp as she pushed her skirts firmly against her legs. 

“Eric Morgan, you close that door!” 

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a mischievous grin.

“Pa! You’re home!”

“Pa! Pa!” 

Eric held out his arms as both his children rushed forward. They leaped toward him, and he caught them both in an embrace. 

“You’re cold,” Alexander said. 

“And you’ve got snow in your beard,” Elizabeth added. 

“Is it snowing again?” Patricia cut in before Eric had the chance to answer the twins. Eric set the children down and stood to kiss her on the cheek before answering. 

“Yes, but not much. Mr. Rogers stopped by the mercantile earlier, and he says we’re in for the worst blizzard this territory has ever seen.” 

“You don’t believe it, do you?” Patricia asked worriedly as she walked to the window. Her beautiful blue eyes scanned the gray outdoors, her brow furrowed with concern. Eric wrapped his arms around her, looking over her shoulder as he did. 

“He’s never wrong, you know as well as me,” he reminded her. 

She looked into his brown eyes with a searching gaze. He gave her a reassuring smile, but the expression on her face remained distressed. 

“We’ll be alright,” Eric briskly remarked, hoping to soothe her, if only a little. “The Lord provides.” 

“How was business today?” 

The question was one Eric had expected, but not as soon as he walked through the door. He squared his shoulders, hoping to give the impression he wasn’t concerned. 

“It’s always slow this time of year, you know that,” he said. “But I did bring you something from the store.” 

“What did you bring?” Alexander cried. 

“It’s for Ma, silly,” Elizabeth told her brother. 

“You don’t know that,” Alexander retorted as he folded his arms. “Pa always brings us special things on Friday.” 

“Always?” Eric asked, flashing another twinkling smile at his children. 

“Yes!” they cried in unison as they jumped up and down. 

“Are you two washed?” Patricia asked, and both children scampered toward the washbasin. As they cleaned their hands, Eric pulled the goods from the bag. 

“Eric, you spoil them,” Patricia chided as he placed the peppermint sticks on the table. “Think of their teeth!” 

“They’ll be alright,” Eric said. “I brought you something, too, remember?” 

He handed her a small sack of white sugar, and though she shook her head, the smile on her face told him she was glad. 

“We have molasses for the coffee,” she said. “You shouldn’t have.” 

“Why not?” he asked. “It’s just going to get hard at the store. And we’ve got plenty for customers anyway.” 

“What customers?” she muttered, and he scoffed despite himself. 

“It’ll pick up again,” he replied optimistically. “Just have to wait for the snow to melt some.” 

As he spoke, he pulled out the remaining items. Some canned goods, salted pork wrapped in brown paper, and a letter. 

“Which won’t be anytime soon if Mr. Rogers is correct,” Patricia pointed out. 

“He’s not God,” Eric said, tucking the letter into his pocket. “Rogers makes good guesses, but he doesn’t know everything.” 

“Well, what will be will be, I suppose,” Patricia commented as she turned her attention back to the stove. She lifted the lid to the black pot, and the aroma of stew filled the air. Eric’s stomach grumbled, and he moved to wash his own hands before supper. 

“Who’s that letter from?” she asked with her back turned. She likely had already guessed but wanted his confirmation. 

“My brother,” Eric said simply. 

She grunted in response, as though it was just what she’d expected to hear, even if she hadn’t wanted it. 

Elizabeth and Alexander squealed with delight when they discovered the candy at the table, but Patricia was quick to tell them to wait until after their supper. 

“You’ll spoil your meal if you eat those now,” she said, sweeping the candy away. 

“Aw, Mama,” Alexander complained. A sharp look from his mother silenced him, and Elizabeth shot him a smug look. 

Eric couldn’t help but smile at the sight. His family was everything, and his heart swelled with joy in moments like those. 

“Everything looks delicious, Ma,” he said as he sat. She finished placing the plates of stew on the table and blushed. She loved it when he called her that. 

“You must be hungry,” she told him. “Eat.” 

The family settled into the meal, but it wasn’t long before a new thought crossed Eric’s mind. The expression caught Patricia’s attention, and she was quick to comment. 

“Is everything alright?” 

“That Swede who bothered you the other day came into the shop,” Eric told her, watching her expression change to reflect his own feelings. 

A blend of anger and frustration clouded her features, but there was a nervousness present as well. Not exactly fear, but she was certainly unsettled.

“What did he want?” she muttered. 

“Just purchased some tobacco,” Eric said, “but I made sure to tell him to leave you alone. To leave us all alone, if I’m being honest. He can come into the store for his needs, but there’s not to be any contact besides.” 

“What did he say?” Patricia lifted her gaze to meet Eric’s, her eyes searching as though she suspected he might not tell her the truth. 

“He was rude, as he always is,” Eric said, “but I think I got my point across. If he bothers you again, you let me know, you hear?” 

“Well, I certainly don’t expect him to come here,” she said, though her voice was filled with worry. 

Alexander and Elizabeth studied their mother, their own eyes growing wide with trepidation. Resolve swelled within Eric. 

“Don’t any of you worry about a thing,” he said. “I won’t let anyone hurt us. I promise.” 

“Of course, my love,” Patricia said, reaching for his large hand. He clasped her fingers within his own, her small palm disappearing in his grasp. He gave her a reassuring squeeze before turning back to the meal. 

“Tell your father about your day,” Patricia told the children. Both twins were eager to tell him how they’d worked on their reading and arithmetic while Patricia had tended to the chores around the house. 

The small Dickinson schoolhouse stood on the opposite end of Main Street, and when the weather was good, the children walked with their father to school in the morning before he went to work. However, with the unpredictable winter hanging over the town, the school had been closed. 

Nobody wanted to risk having their children caught out in a blizzard, including Eric and his wife. So Patricia gave the children lessons herself during the day, and they recited those lessons to their father when he returned in the evening. 

“Well done,” Eric said, beaming with pride after they’d both finished. “If you keep this up, you’ll be running the shop in no time.” 

“I’ll make you proud, Pa,” Alexander said as he puffed out his chest. Elizabeth was visibly annoyed. 

“He was talking to both of us,” she said. 

“You’re a girl. You don’t go to work,” Alexander replied without looking at his sister. 

“Ma! Did you hear what he said?” Elizabeth cried. “I can go work at the shop if I want to!” 

“You most certainly can,” Eric interjected, unable to stop himself from laughing. “The good Lord knows I can use all the help I can get. Isn’t that right, Patricia?” 

“You do a fine job and you know it,” Patricia said, giving her husband a playful smile. “Why, when I used to help you with the store before the children were born, there was never much for me to do.” 

“Just having you there with me was enough. I got to see how pretty you are all day,” Eric said, causing Patricia to blush. 

Alexander made kissing noises, and Elizabeth laughed. Patricia turned to the children and gave them a look that silenced them, though the smile on her face told Eric she wasn’t serious. 

As the meal finished, Patricia instructed the children to clear the table.

“Elizabeth, I want you to clear the dishes and put them in the washbasin, and Alexander, you’re to put away the things Pa brought from the store,” she said. 

“Yes’m,” both children spoke at once. 

“I’ll bring you water for the washbasin,” Eric said as he walked back toward the door to pull on his boots. 

“I declare, it’ll be nice when we finally have a pump in the house,” Patricia said. “Mind you, I’m not complaining. I’ll just appreciate it when you don’t have to go out in the cold.” 

“All things with time,” Eric said, winking at her on his way out the door. 

He stepped over to the well they shared with their neighbors, taking his time walking back with the bucket of water. Splashing any water meant ice. 

But that wasn’t the only reason. Eric also wanted the chance to look into the window as he passed the front of the house. 

One of his favorite sights in the entire world was seeing his family inside, warm and safe amid the cold in the winter evening. The warm glow from the fire caused the inside of the home to appear orange, and every member of his family had a smile on their face. 

The children had finished with their chores, and they were both sucking on the candy sticks he’d brought from the store. Patricia was waiting for the water, but she, too, stood with a smile on her face as she watched their children. The scene caused Eric’s heart to swell with joy and he picked up the pace, if only a little. 

He took the water into the house, and Patricia heated it over the stove as Eric sat at the table. He pulled the letter back out of his pocket and slid his finger under the envelope. 

He didn’t have time to lift the flap before Patricia asked, “What does your brother want?” 

“I don’t know yet.” He laughed. “I haven’t read the letter.” 

“Hopefully he’s not asking for more money,” she said, pursing her lips. 

“I couldn’t say,” Eric told her. “Like I said, I haven’t read the letter yet.” 

“Last time he wrote, he wanted money,” she said. “And we don’t have it to give.” 

“Darlin’,” Eric gently admonished, “not in front of the children.” 

“They can hear it as much as anyone,” Patricia retorted. “They need to know a person doesn’t have to give away their money just because another person asks.” 

“They also need to know that family is family,” Eric said. “And that means we help each other. I don’t know if he wants money, nor do I know if he wants anything at all. And I won’t know until I read the letter.” 

He held up the paper as he spoke, and Patricia once again set her mouth in a straight line. Her eyes snapped with a fire he had long since fallen in love with, but she said nothing as she turned her back on him and started vigorously washing the dishes. 

Eric smiled to himself. 

His wife didn’t care for his older brother, and she didn’t have any qualms about letting him know. Yet she was a good, Christian woman, and she wouldn’t stand in the way of Eric helping his brother if need be. 

It had always been that way in their ten-year marriage, and he saw no reason for it to change now. 

Eric was interrupted once again, however, by a knock at the door. 

“Who on earth could be visiting at this hour?” Patricia murmured as she leaned toward the window. The sun had long since set, and save for the warm glow in the windows of each house that dotted the street, the town was completely dark. 

“I’ll find out,” Eric said as he set the letter on the table and stepped to the door. He, too, tried to peer out the window, but all he could see was his own reflection. 

He pulled the door open and was surprised to find three middle-aged women standing before him. 

“Good evening!” the oldest of the group chirped. “I hope we aren’t interrupting anything.” 

“Can I help you?” Eric asked as a wave of unease swept over him. 

Something about the women disconcerted him, though he couldn’t name why. Perhaps it was because Dickinson was a small town, and he knew everyone. Having three strange women appear on his doorstep after dark was very much out of the ordinary. 

“My name is Sofia Bouchard,” the woman said. “And these are my sisters, Charlotte and Emma.” 

The women did appear to be sisters. They all looked similar with black hair and brown eyes, rounded faces, and curvy frames. They were dressed in maroon dresses with black shawls wrapped around their shoulders. 

“Yes?” Eric asked, allowing a glimmer of impatience to show through his tone. He wouldn’t be rude, but he wanted to imply they needed to state their business quickly. 

Sofia smiled before exchanging a look with her sisters, then she looked back to Eric. “We have a proposition for you.”  

Chapter Two

“Now?” Eric asked, his annoyance showing. “It’s late and cold.” 

He didn’t invite them inside. He didn’t want them near his wife and children. 

“It will only take a moment,” Sofia said. “It’s just that the three of us are trying to start a Sunday School for the children at church. From what we understand, school hasn’t been in session for the past two weeks, and we worry the children will become lonely.” 

“We were hoping to get a list of names,” Charlotte spoke up. “If we know how many children to expect, we’ll be able to convince the preacher to give us permission.” 

The explanation only made Eric more suspicious. Preacher Alden would know which children would be attending, as there weren’t more than two dozen families in the entire town. He knew which families attended church, and therefore which parents would want their children to attend. 

The families who didn’t attend church wouldn’t start attending on account of a school. Not only that, but it struck Eric as odd that the woman didn’t name Preacher Alden directly, but only referred to him by his occupation. 

“You’re with the church then?” he asked. 

Bright smiles spread across the three women’s faces. 

“That’s right,” Sofia said with an enthusiastic nod. “What are your children’s names? And can we expect them?” 

“Forgive me for being skeptical,” Eric replied, “but what’s the preacher’s name? I don’t want to be untrusting, but I’ve never seen you before, and I don’t want to just give information to strangers.” 

The three women looked dumbstruck, as though they hadn’t thought he might question them. They exchanged another look, then Emma finally spoke. 

“Preacher Corben,” she said, though she dropped her voice to say the name, as though she had heard Alden’s name before but couldn’t quite remember it.

“Well, I’ll talk to my wife,” Eric said, not letting them know he knew they were lying. “We like to discuss things before we make a decision.” 

“Of course, of course,” Sofia said, clasping her hands in front of her. “But we know you’ll do the right thing. We look forward to seeing you this Sunday!” 

“Bye now,” Emma said as she gave him a small wave. 

The three started up the street, but Eric remained in the doorway for a few moments, watching them. He wanted to ensure they were really leaving before closing the door. 

Finally, he stepped back inside. 

“Thank goodness you closed the door,” Patricia breathed. 

She’d wrapped her own shawl around her shoulders, and both children were lying in bed under their quilt. They peered at their parents with wide eyes, sucking on their candy in silence. 

“Sorry to let all the heat out,” Eric said, walking to the stove to stoke the fire. “Here, let’s put some extra wood on this to get it really going. I’ll have it toasty in here again in no time.” 

“Who were they?” Patrica asked, nodding toward the door. “I heard three women.” 

“They said they were the Bouchard sisters,” Eric said, giving his wife a questioning look. Perhaps she knew the name from her quilting circle, or from the gossip around town. 

But she only raised her eyebrows and shook her head slightly in response, shrugging as she did. 

“I don’t know them, either,” Eric told her. “Never heard of them.” 

“Have they ever come into the mercantile?” Patricia asked. 

“No, not that I recall,” he said. “And I’m certain I’d remember.” 

“What did they want?” 

“Mentioned a Sunday School. They said they’re concerned the children in town are isolated with the storm and whatnot.” 

“Well,” Patricia mused, “I suppose that’s not entirely a bad thing.” 

“We’ll see,” Eric remarked dismissively. Patricia gave him a questioning look, but he didn’t say anything else. 

He didn’t want to frighten her by telling her they had given him a wrong name for the pastor. She had enough to worry about with the alleged approaching blizzard. 

“Time for bed, children!” Patrica said suddenly. “You may put the candy up until tomorrow.” 

Though both twins protested, they did as they were told. Patricia helped them change into their nightclothes, then back into bed. She pulled the blanket up to their necks, kissed them both on the forehead, then gave Eric a small nod. 

“Will you play something for them?” she asked, and Eric only glanced at the letter on the table before retrieving his fiddle. 

 Patricia could well be delaying him reading the letter, hoping to put off what she believed to be the inevitable. But no matter. He enjoyed playing for the children while they fell asleep, and he’d rather they were asleep for the conversation that was sure to come. 

“Play some of our favorites, Pa!” Alexander requested, but Patricia was quick to cut in. 

“Something sweet and slow,” she told Eric. “If you play something lively, they’ll never fall asleep.” 

“You heard your ma,” Eric told the twins. They protested, as always, but he started playing a soothing tune. His children watched him with bright eyes, but they soon became heavy and closed. 

Eric continued to play for a few minutes longer, ensuring they were truly asleep before putting the fiddle back in its box. Patricia pulled out her needlework and sat at the table, and Eric joined her in his own seat. 

Finally, he picked up the letter. 

“I’ll fetch you some coffee,” Patricia said, rising abruptly. She clunked around the kitchen as she worked, though she didn’t make so much noise as to wake the children. 

Still, Eric smiled to himself at his wife’s antics. She was feisty. 

He took his time with the letter, reading his brother’s barely legible handwriting. It had been more than four years since he’d last seen Thomas, but he’d grown used to that. 

In fact, Eric and Thomas had only seen each other twice in the past ten years. Once was when Eric and Patricia got married, and the next time was when Thomas just so happened to be through town four years before. 

Thomas wasn’t coming to town for a visit. He was on the trail of some notorious outlaw who was rumored to be in the area. 

Thomas was a bounty hunter, which was part of the reason Patricia didn’t care for him. Not only that, but Thomas frequently needed some sort of help. Whether he was asking for money or for Eric to mail him supplies, it wasn’t uncommon for a letter to mean Thomas wanted something. 

Patricia put the coffee on the table, and Eric thanked her without looking up. 

“How much?” Patricia asked after a tense silence. 

“What?” Eric looked at her with raised eyebrows. 

“How much money does he want from us this time?” Patricia asked, giving a slight nod toward the letter in Eric’s hand. He sighed and placed the paper on the table, then he took his time sipping from the steaming mug. 

“Patricia,” he said at last. 

“Don’t.” 

She said the word with no emotion, but also with finality. She didn’t want to hear the same list of excuses he always made or the long list of reasons he felt obligated to help his brother. They’d been married long enough for her to know how the conversation always went. 

The problem was, Thomas hadn’t asked for any money. The letter came as a combination of good news and bad. Good news because it was what Eric had been wanting for years, but bad news because he could already hear what his wife would have to say about the situation. 

“You don’t know what I’m going to say,” he told her with a chuckle. 

“I know you’re going to try to convince me that it’s not too much,” Patricia said. “You’re going to tell me that he’s family, and you don’t want to turn him down. You know as well as I do that we haven’t been getting much from the store. We don’t have the money to send.” 

“We have plenty,” Eric told her. “I know you worry, but you don’t need to. I’m here.” 

“Yes, you’re here,” she fired back. “But you can’t feed the children with your presence. We need the little money we have, Eric. We don’t have extra.” 

“You don’t even know what he said,” Eric replied. “You don’t know that he asked for money.” 

“We don’t have the supplies to send him, nor the money to send said supplies, either,” Patricia retorted. “Even if you only send him goods from the store, you’re still essentially giving him money. Those are goods that we bought with our own money, then we hand them over to him. And not only that, but it costs money to send them in the post!” 

“Patricia,” Eric said, his tone still gentle but with more authority. “Don’t get yourself worked up. Yes, I help my brother, but you should know I won’t help him to the point we go without. You and the children are my world. I would never put you in a bad spot on anyone’s account.” 

Patricia pursed her lips. Her eyes swept the table as she seemed to grapple for something to say. But then she snatched her needlework and started yanking on the thread. 

The house was so quiet, he could hear the drag of the thread against the fabric as she worked. 

“He didn’t ask for money,” Eric said plainly. “Or for us to send him supplies.” 

Patricia’s eyes darted back to him, and she slowly lowered her project to her lap. The look she gave him was distrustful, but there was an intrigue present, too. 

“What does he want?” she asked. “I know he wasn’t just writing to ask how you’re doing.” 

Eric took his time with another drink, and Patricia scoffed. She shook her head and muttered, “I knew it.” 

“He’s asking if he can stay with us for a while,” Eric said at last. 

“What!” 

“Lower your voice,” Eric hissed. “Don’t wake the children.” 

Patricia glanced toward their sleeping twins, then looked back to Eric. 

“I don’t want him staying,” she said flatly. “I don’t. What with his profession, he’s bound to bring some bad people upon us.” 

“He’s getting out of the business,” Eric said quickly. “I guess he’s finally taking my advice and leaving bounty hunting behind.” 

Patricia opened her mouth to respond but quickly closed it again without saying a word. Eric halfway suspected she didn’t believe a word of what he’d said and assumed he was just trying to get her to agree to opening their home to Thomas. 

“According to this letter,” Eric said, tapping the paper on the table, “he’s going to be in town in four days. He decided he’s done with the business, but unfortunately that leaves him with nothing.” 

“Nothing,” Patricia said with another scoff, rolling her eyes at the same time.

“Well, it’s to be expected,” Eric told her. “He doesn’t have a house, and he lived on the pay from each bounty as he caught another—”

“Lived on?” Patricia interrupted. “He’s done no such thing! How many times has he asked you to send him—” 

“This isn’t about that,” Eric interjected. “And it doesn’t matter anymore. The letter says he’s decided to get out of the business, and now he’s taking some time to figure out what he’s going to do next.” 

Patricia visibly chewed on the inside of her cheek. The tense pause lingered. Then she asked, “And he’s coming here?” 

“Yes,” Eric said. “He’s asking if it would be possible for him to stay with us for the winter. He’s more than willing to help around the house and the store, and I think we ought to take him up on the offer.” 

“The offer?” Patricia asked with raised eyebrows. “He’s not offering anything. He’s once again asking you and me for help, for charity. He’s smart enough to tell us he’s willing to help pay his way… sort of… but this isn’t him offering us anything.” 

“Doesn’t the Good Book tell us to give charity?” Eric asked in a low voice. “Isn’t that the Christian thing to do?” 

Patricia opened her mouth, but no words came out. She closed it again, once more feverishly pulling the thread through her project. 

Eric knew better than to say anything, letting her take a few minutes to think about what had been said before adding to it. 

Finally, she nodded toward the children. 

“And you think it’s a good idea for him to come here and fill their heads with his stories?” she asked. “You know that’s what he’ll do. He’ll spend the afternoons and evenings telling them of the horrible things he’s done out on the trail, all the while painting himself to be a hero. You know how impressionable they are. I don’t want them thinking bounty hunting is anything to be proud of!” 

“I’ll tell him not to talk about it,” Eric said with a gentle smile. “He’ll respect it, I know.” 

“He’d better,” Patricia huffed. “If I hear him say anything, and I do mean anything, I’m kicking him right of the house!” 

“Yes, dear,” Eric said, grinning at her. 

“I mean it!” Patricia added. 

“I don’t doubt it,” Eric agreed. 

She huffed once again, sewing fiercely. A few seconds ticked by when, suddenly, both were startled by a knock at the door. 

“Now who could that be?” Patricia asked, her eyes growing wide as she set the project down on her lap. “It’s nearly ten!” 

“I’ll find out,” Eric said. He moved to the door and peered through the window before opening it. As the light inside was much dimmer than before, he could see through the pane, though outside was nothing but snow drifts and trees. 

Eric opened the door and stepped onto the porch. “Hello? Who’s there?” 

He waited, but only a mournful wind rattling branches replied. 

Eric furrowed his eyebrows. Something wasn’t right. The freezing temperature pushed him to go back indoors, but the hair on the back of his neck stood tall. 

He turned back and stepped through the doorway when a gunshot rang out. 

“Eric!” Patricia screamed. 

A piercing pain ran through him, and he looked down. A bullet had struck him through the lower back, exiting through the side of his stomach. 

Two more shots rang out and Eric threw the door shut. He ran forward, grabbing Patricia and pulling her to the floor on top of him as more bullets tore through the window and wall. 

“What is it? Who’s shooting at us?” Patricia cried. 

“Ma!” 

“Mama!” 

Both children screamed in terror from their bed, and Eric tried to quiet everyone. 

“Hush now! Keep down and don’t make noise!” he ordered. 

More gunshots rang out, and Patrica crawled across the floor. She moved quickly, staying low and out of sight of anyone who might be looking through the window. 

She reached the side of the bed and pulled Elizabeth out first, then Alexander, clutching both to her as she halfway pulled, halfway crawled with them back to the middle of the room. 

“Stay still!” Eric ordered, and she threw herself over her children, doing what she could to shield them with her body. Wood splinters and broken glass flew through the room, carrying with it a frigid wind. 

Sharp beads of snow swept through the air, the howl of the wind mixing with the gunshots. 

Eric had to do something, wounded or not. Whoever was out there, they were only minutes away from killing him and his entire family if he didn’t do something fast. 

He had to fight back.