CHAPTER ONE

       Little Horn, Texas, June 1895

      A full hour before the sun peeked over the horizon, Molly Carson Langley slid out of bed. Ranch work started early in Texas Hill Country. If she wished to make her morning journey before the sun rose, she must hurry.

      With fast, measured steps, she padded through the room. The hardwood floor was polished to a smooth patina and felt warm beneath her bare feet. A muffled sigh slipped past her lips. After three years of marriage and successfully managing her own household, she didn’t belong in her childhood home anymore.

      She wasn’t sure where she belonged. Until she figured it out, a pair of motherless four-year-olds needed her. That mattered. It had to matter. Of course it mattered.

      Jaw set at a determined angle, Molly stuffed her feet inside a pair of ankle boots and put on her favorite calico dress with the lavender floral print. She wound her blond hair in a loose braid down her back, then packed a small bag with personal items from her dresser. A hairbrush, a rack of pins, several ribbons in colors she hoped the girls would like, and her worn Bible with the pages crinkled at the edges.

      One glance out the window told her the morning sky was shifting from black to deep purple. Dawn was drawing near.

      Hurry, Molly.

      She made her way toward the door. The other occupant in the room slept peacefully, her soft, feminine snoring the only sound cutting through the still, humid air.

      Without breaking stride, Molly smiled down at her sister. At sixteen, the dreams of youth were still fresh and untarnished in Daisy’s young mind. Seven years older, Molly could hardly relate to the girl. The death of her husband eleven months ago made it all the more difficult.

      Her feet grew heavy as stone and, for a brief moment, despair filled Molly’s heart. She’d lost more than her husband. So. Much. More.

      No. She would not feel sorry for herself. If he were here, George would tell her that the good Lord had a plan for her life. No matter how dark it seemed right now, the particulars were already worked out. She just needed to have faith.

      Molly wasn’t as faithful as her preacher husband had been. Not anymore. Perhaps she never had been.

      At least she’d had somewhere to go after George’s death. Molly would concentrate on being grateful her family had welcomed her home.

      Her future might look bleak, but she was still young, still vital, still necessary to a family facing their own tragedy. When she’d returned home, she’d never expected her best friend to die suddenly and leave behind twin daughters. Molly would take care of Penelope’s children until she was no longer needed.

      Resolve firmly in place, she slung the satchel over her shoulder and tiptoed into the empty hallway. She entered the kitchen, took two full steps and froze.

      A pang of guilt whispered through her.

      “Good