Cindy Holby Read online

  Praise for the novels of Cindy Holby

  “A strong story with a lot of excitement and action added in.”

  —Once Upon A Romance

  “A wondrous adventure, full of action and suspense, which will enchant readers.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “The history, the characters and the plot blended flawlessly for a well-rounded story and hard-won happily ever after.”

  —Night Owl Reviews

  “I couldn’t put this book down once I started it. I highly recommend [it] be added to your must-read list.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “A fast-paced, romantic adventure filled with laughter and danger…The pages turn very quickly and their story of adversity keeps the reader absorbed.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  “A delightful western romance…The story line is at its best when it concentrates on the lead couple, especially during humorous interludes.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “[Cindy Holby] takes us on an incredible journey of love, betrayal and the will to survive…. Ms. Holby is definitely a star on the rise!”

  —The Best Reviews

  “Like no other book you’ll read, and you owe it to yourself to experience it.”

  —EscapetoRomance.com

  “Ms. Holby has created a delightful and fast-paced medieval fantasy full of characters that felt real and poignant.”

  —Romance Reader at Heart

  Angel’s

  End

  Cindy Holby

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) • Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England • Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.) • Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.) • Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India • Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) • Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  ANGEL’S END

  A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / May 2012

  Copyright © 2012 by Cindy Holby.

  Excerpt from Colorado Heart by Cindy Holby copyright © 2012 by Cindy Holby.

  Cover design by George Long.

  Cover art by Tony Mauro.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  ISBN: 978-1-101-58514-6

  BERKLEY SENSATION®

  Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  BERKLEY SENSATION® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  ALWAYS LEARNING

  PEARSON

  To Peggy, who said in seventh grade,

  “Let’s write a story.” I miss you.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  There are so many people who helped me along this journey. My wonderful husband who was very patient during the struggle to sell again and the deadline days. I love you so much. My two sons who always inspire me. My parents who are always there when I need them. Dad, I miss you so much and I’m glad I made you proud.

  A special thank-you to my wonderful agent, Roberta Brown, who always believed in me and to Kate Seaver, for asking for a project that was a perfect match for my writing style. We never gave up on each other and I’m thrilled to be writing for her now.

  A special shout-out to my neighbors, who are absolutely the best. I really believe that our little community is paradise.

  And of course, to all my werearmadillos. Alesia, Barb, Eileen, Marianne, Michelle and Serena. I love all of you more than dark chocolate and peanut butter together, and could not have written one word of this without your constant support. We rock!

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Colorado Heart

  ONE

  Cade Gentry was not one to ask for forgiveness. Life was what it was and it was best just to deal with it. He’d done a lot in the past ten years that he wasn’t proud of, acts he thought he’d have time to atone for. He just needed the opportunity to succeed, to set the record straight. He’d always thought there was still time.

  That was before he’d been shot.

  He supposed he was lucky because the bullet passed straight through his gut, tearing its way through his belly and bouncing off his ribs before it blew its way through his back. If this was luck, then it was the first time he’d ever been graced by its company. He could only hope that it would hang around until he froze to death. That had to be less painful than bleeding out.

  Or so he hoped.

  Cade took a moment to survey his surroundings. He stood deep in a copse of aspens that led down to a frozen stream. He’d lost his horse hours ago, a full day after they’d both been shot. The animal finally gave out from the bullet in his lungs, but not until Cade had escaped his pursuers. He hated losing that horse. He’d been his only friend for as long as he could remember. At least he had the satisfaction of knowing he’d taken out several of the men who’d chased after him.

  The air was so cold that it burned his throat as he sucked it in. Still he felt hot, sweaty and clammy since he’d awakened shivering
from the hour of sleep he’d allowed himself at dawn. Cade pulled his hand away from his stomach and his shirt moved with it, clinging to his glove with tiny flakes of ice. The bleeding had slowed down to a trickle, but he had no way of telling if it was because of the cold, or because he didn’t have any left to give. The only thing he did know was that he couldn’t stop. If he did, he’d be dead for certain, because the bastards who shot him were bound to finish the job.

  Desperation, always close at hand, grabbed him by the throat and held him until he couldn’t breathe. The moments of his life, especially the last few wasted years filled his mind. Was this it? Why bother living if there was nothing to this existence but loneliness and desperation to fill each passing moment. Why bother at all? He should just sit down in this beautiful, peaceful spot and die alone. His body would freeze solid and lie there until the animals got to him. There was nobody to know, nobody that would even care, except a brother he hadn’t seen in ten years.

  “Please God,” Cade said to the silent trees. “I’m not ready to die.” Why did he bother to pray? God had never heard him before. And why should God care? It wasn’t as if he was worth saving. But suddenly the golden leaves that stubbornly clung to the branches of the aspens, despite the quick approach of winter, rattled with the quickening wind. It wasn’t much of an answer, but it did bring the scent of burning wood. Maybe after all these years God finally heard him. There was a fire close by, and hopefully warmth, a horse, and a way out of his latest predicament.

  Cade pulled his.45 from his holster and checked the load. He had three bullets left. His belt was empty. He could only hope the three would be enough. He opened his mouth to pray again, and then clamped it firmly shut. No use tempting fate or God. He didn’t need any help killing. That was something he was good at.

  He holstered his Colt and staggered a few steps down the slope. The ground wavered and he had to grab onto an aspen to settle his spinning world. Cade closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the gnarled bark. It felt cool against his skin, but there was only a moment of relief. He took a deep breath and the smell of burning wood filled his lungs, along with the scent of meat sizzling on a fire. He opened his eyes and saw a trace of smoke hanging just above the trees on the opposite bank.

  “If you want it,” he reminded himself, “you’re going to have to get it yourself. There are no handouts in this world.” With a determined step he moved onward.

  The sun, weak in the wintry sky, was gone, chasing the horizon that hid behind the mountains. The air around him grew colder, so sharp that it felt as if you could break it off in great chunks and shatter it against the ground. It was so quiet that Cade could hear his heart beating in his chest. Each thump-thump weakened him, like a spinning top that slowly lost its momentum and finally spun over on its side.

  The soft glow from the fire kept him moving. Somewhere in his mind he knew the heat he felt on his skin was from a fever and not the fire. That didn’t keep him from shivering. He wrapped his arms around his body and kept trudging onward, not even caring when his foot slipped off a rock and splashed into the icy cold water of the stream. He was so desperate to get to the fire that he kept stumbling onward until his instinct for self-preservation, always so strong, screamed slow down, look around, and make sure you know what you’re getting into. He had to take a moment to remember what he should do. Finally his mind caught up with his instincts. Cade changed his angle of approach and moved from tree to tree until he was able to crouch down and observe the site, with gun in hand, from behind a deadfall of pines.

  “You are most welcome to join me brother,” a voice boomed out.

  A man stood before the fire, fully exposed to Cade’s shot, if he decided to take one. Cade could not make out his features. The entire scene wavered in his vision, as if he were dreaming. The man wore a long heavy coat and held his arms outstretched to show he was unarmed. In his left hand he held a book. The fire snapped and popped behind him and the scent of coffee filled his senses. A pale horse stood off to the side with his ears pricked toward Cade’s hiding place. Whoever he was, he’d chosen his site well. It was close to the trail and within a copse of evergreens that grew beside a huge boulder that had probably lain there for an eternity. When the snow finally came, he’d have the benefit of some shelter and the reflected warmth of the fire off the boulder.

  “I have food, coffee and an ear for listening if you are so inclined,” the man continued.

  Cade wiped his forehead with his sleeve. He had two options before him. He could shoot the man down, eat his food, drink his coffee and steal his horse. Or he could holster his gun and join him.

  “I may be a lot of things, but a murderer isn’t one of them.” He holstered his gun and stood with his hands up. Liar, his conscience said as he stepped forward into the light. Cade looked side to side, to make sure it wasn’t a trap, but for some strange reason his eyes couldn’t focus. If it was a trap, there wasn’t much he could do about it. It took every bit of strength he had to walk the ten paces that led him to the fire.

  “Welcome brother,” the man said. He extended his right hand. Cade looked at it, willing his mind to accept the fact that there was no danger here. Slowly he lifted his hand to grasp the one offered. It floated before him as the fire burned brighter. The trees spun around him as he finally gave in to the fever and his wound and sank to the ground.

  It was the dream again. The one that haunted him ever since Sand Creek and the death of his mother and baby sister. The one where he ran through the smoke and the falling bodies while the sound of the howitzers drowned out the screams. He tried to escape the dream but something held him back, suffocating him, just as the smoke had that day. Something grabbed him, held on to him, and he swung out, fighting his father who held him as they watched his mother struggling beneath a soldier…

  “It’s a dream!”

  Cade slowly opened his eyes. His lids felt heavy and the weight upon him was oppressive. He looked down and saw that he was covered with a heavy coat. A man knelt by his side and smiled encouragingly at him. “You were having a bad dream,” he said.

  “Who are you?” Cade managed to get the question out, even though his mouth felt as dry as sand.

  “Reverend Timothy Key of Chillicothe, Ohio.” He offered Cade a canteen. “And the Baptist church.” Cade took it and Timothy helped him sit up so he could drink. The water inside was so cold that his head seized up as he gulped it down.

  It was full dark now. Thick clouds hung just above the treetops, waiting with indecision to drop their heavy load of snow. “What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?” Cade returned the canteen.

  “I’m on my way to my flock.” Cade looked around. Flock? This man wasn’t foolish enough to bring sheep into cattle country was he? He was relieved to see his gun belt lay close at hand. The movement also made him realize that his abdomen was tightly bandaged. He put a hand to his wound.

  The preacher smiled as he doused his handkerchief with water. “I’m referring to the people of Angel’s End.” He motioned to the north and west with one hand as he dabbed the wet handkerchief on Cade’s forehead. “I was called to be their minister.” He handed the handkerchief to Cade and picked up his book. One glance confirmed that it was a Bible. Cade wiped his face and grimaced as he moved.

  “I have my letter of introduction right there.” Timothy pointed to the pocket of the large overcoat that covered Cade. “A recommendation from Bishop Henderson himself. Unfortunately the stage driver didn’t believe me when I said the snow would hold off until we got there,” Timothy further explained. “And since there won’t be another stage until the spring melt I bought a horse and struck out on my own.”

  “Trying to beat the storm?”

  “Wherever God leads me.”

  “Looks like he’s brought you to the middle of nowhere,” Cade grunted. His wound pained him and the fever was enough to make him wonder if he were still caught up in a dream.

  “Or perhaps he�
�s brought us together.”

  Yes. He was dreaming. Or else the preacher man was crazy.

  “God led you all the way from Ohio?”

  “To this very place.” Timothy smiled. Cade studied his eyes. If he was crazy, the eyes would be a sure indication. But all he saw was a feeling of peace in the warm brown that was a shade lighter than his own.

  I wonder what he sees when he looks into my eyes?

  “Do you think you can handle some food?” Timothy turned to the fire. He had to be cold. He was dressed in a black frock coat, just like his father used to wear. He’d thrown his heavy overcoat over Cade, who’d had nothing but a short jacket over his shirt, pants and long johns. It wasn’t as if he’d had time to prepare when all the bad showed up.

  Timothy looked expectantly over his shoulder. The man had to be crazy, turning his back on a complete stranger who showed up in his camp. Or was he?

  Cade tried to recall the last time he’d eaten, and whether he should try to eat now. There was no telling if the bullet had nicked any of his internal organs. If they had he was dead anyway so he might as well go out with a full stomach as opposed to an empty one. “I’d appreciate it,” he said and Timothy once more graced him with his peaceful smile.

  Timothy handed him a large slice of bread wrapped around a thick chunk of ham. “The cook at the stage stop was most generous,” he explained. Cade didn’t bother to reply as he sunk his teeth into the sandwich. Timothy handed him a cup of coffee. He’d thought when he’d started that he’d eat the entire thing but after a few bites and one swig of coffee he was exhausted.

  “Thanks,” he said when Timothy took the remnants of his meal. He sank back to the ground with his head propped on the saddle and pulled the coat up beneath his chin. He knew he lay on the only blanket but the thought of getting up, and giving up this small comfort was more than he could bear at the time. “For the food, and for the doctoring.”

  “Brother, you were lucky the bullet passed through,” Timothy said. “I’m afraid my skills of surgery are quite lacking, even with the power of prayer.” He raised what was left of Cade’s sandwich in a toast and finished it off as he sat cross-legged by the fire on the cold hard ground with the Bible by his side.