Chapter 1

The wind swept across the dusty plains of Dry Gulch, carrying with it the smell of dry grass, sweat, and the sharp edge of danger. It was late afternoon in the summer of 1884, and the heat had pressed itself over the Arizona Territory like a heavy blanket.

Most folks stayed inside on days like this, but today the whole town of Dry Gulch gathered near the sheriff’s office, drawn by the kind of spectacle that made even decent people curious.

Ethan Matthews stood at the edge of the crowd, his hat pulled low, shadowing eyes the color of cold steel. At thirty-six, he was known across three counties for his ranch—the Matthews spread—and for his quiet way of handling problems that would cripple a weaker man.

Broad-shouldered, tall, and tempered by years of hard work, he looked carved from the same stubborn stone as the land he lived on. He hadn’t planned on stopping in town long. He’d only come for fencing wire and salt blocks. But then he heard the murmurs.

“They finally caught her.”

“Meanest little hellcat in the whole territory.”

“Wild as a mustang and twice as dangerous.”

Ethan would have ignored it, but the next shout froze him mid-step.

“Bring her out!”

Two deputies dragged a young woman into the sunlight, shackled at the wrists. Gasps rippled through the crowd. Some stepped back. Others leaned forward with hungry fascination.

She looked half feral, half angel. Her tangled dark hair whipped around her face like a storm. Dirt streaked her arms and a bruise bloomed along her cheekbone. Her dress—what was left of it—was torn, hanging unevenly around her knees.

But it was her eyes that stopped Ethan cold.

Amber. Bright. Wild. Defiant.

Not scared. Not broken.

She looked at the crowd like she expected them to come at her teeth first. And she was ready.