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  Praise for Gabriel’s Atonement

  “Vickie McDonough gives readers a special treat as she blends her signature vivid descriptions of the prairie with fascinating details about the land rush. More than simply a tale of love and adventure, Gabriel’s Atonement is a story of an important but rarely seen period in American history.”

  —Amanda Cabot, author of At Bluebonnet Lake

  “Vickie McDonough is at the top of her game with Gabriel’s Atonement. Historical facts are deftly woven into a plot that sings and characters that seem so real as to want to walk off the page. The exciting story of a young widow and rugged gambler set during an Oklahoma land rush was a delight to read.”

  —Margaret Brownley, bestselling author of The Brides of Last Chance Ranch and Undercover Ladies series

  “Vickie McDonough’s brilliant storytelling shines in Gabriel’s Atonement. Gabriel will capture your heart. The best ‘bad guy’ I’ve ever fallen in love with! And the best land run romance since Far and Away.”

  —Amy Lillard, Carol Award–winning author of Caroline’s Secret

  “I’ve long known about Vickie McDonough’s interest in Oklahoma history, especially the Oklahoma land runs. She took the details of history and skillfully worked them into the lives of her characters, who leapt off the page and grabbed my heart. Using several plot lines that could have been ripped from the pages of Oklahoma history, she wove them carefully together to give an interesting and thoroughly satisfying tale. You won’t want to miss this wonderful read.”

  —Lena Nelson Dooley, multi-award-winning author of Catherine’s Pursuit, book three of the McKenna’s Daughters series

  “Get out the popcorn. Gabriel’s Atonement reads like a movie you don’t want to end. The suspense of Gabe keeping his ‘secret’ and what the reaction of the widowed Lara will be is ‘just right.’ McDonough paints the setting with details that make the story come to life. Looking forward to reading more by her as she keeps getting better and better.”

  —Diana Lesire Brandmeyer, author of The Festive Bride, A Bride’s Dilemma in Friendship, Tennessee, and Mind of Her Own

  “This delightful prairie romance brings together a handsome gambler, looking for a reason to change, and a lonely widow with a sweet spirit who just might provide the motivation. Their involvement with the Oklahoma land rush adds to the fun and adventure of the story. Vickie McDonough is known for her well-drawn characters, realistic settings, and heart-stopping romance, and she has done it again with Gabriel’s Atonement. Readers who enjoyed her previous books will love this new story.”

  —Carrie Turansky, award-winning author of The Governess of Highland Hall and The Daughter of Highland Hall

  “Guilt and regret can destroy a man or lead him into the arms of love. Hold on tight to the reins and prepare for a thrilling ride!”

  —DiAnn Mills, bestselling author of the FBI: Houston series

  “Once again Vickie McDonough delivers a great novel that comes sweeping down the plains to Oklahoma in the days preceding the land rush. Gabriel is seeking atonement for past sins and a new life in Oklahoma Territory. Lara Talbot desires a new home for her son, sister, and father. When they meet, sparks fly in a story that captures the spirit of the times and will keep the reader turning the pages.”

  —Martha Rogers, author of the series The Homeward Journey and Winds Across the Prairie

  “Gabriel’s Atonement is packed with action, romance, and suspense. I loved the characters, loved the setting, loved the historical detail. Thanks for another great read, Vickie McDonough!”

  —Susan Page Davis, author of the Prairie Dreams series

  “Gabriel’s Atonement tops my list of Vickie McDonough’s historical romances to date. What isn’t there to love about a handsome gambler in the Old West who’s trying to do the right thing and a lovely widow who’s struggling to make ends meet—with a love story that develops amidst action, adventure, intrigue, and a setting that comes to life on the page? Don’t miss this one—it’s a keeper.”

  —Miralee Ferrell, bestselling author of Blowing on Dandelions

  © 2015 by Vickie McDonough

  Print ISBN 978-1-62836-951-9

  eBook Editions:

  Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-63409-154-1

  Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-63409-155-8

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.

  All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design: Faceout Studio, www.faceoutstudio.com

  Published by Shiloh Run Press, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683, www.shilohrunpress.com.

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  About the Author

  The rich man’s wealth is his strong city, and as an high wall in his own conceit. Before destruction the heart of man is haughty, and before honour is humility.

  PROVERBS 18:11–12

  Chapter 1

  Kansas City, Kansas

  March 16, 1889

  The cool metal of the Morgan silver dollar warmed as it rolled over Gabe’s knuckles and between his fingers. One thing he’d learned in the last nine years was how to read people, and the cocky cowpoke at the bar looked ripe for the picking.

  Like an early morning fog, hazy smoke floated in the saloon’s tepid air. The cowpoke swigged back his drink and slammed his shot glass onto the counter, patted his pocket, and looked in the direction of the gaming tables. Gabe caught his gaze and nodded.

  With a leering grin, the cowboy brushed past Trudy, one of the buxom saloon girls, and strode across the room toward Gabe. “I’m of a mind to double my money.”

  “Are you now?” He leaned back in his seat, one arm over the back of the chair, and waved a hand. “Have a seat,” he hollered to be heard over the din of the crowd. He recognized the man from a month ago when he lost his paycheck at Tricky Dan’s table. If he remembered right, the cowboy worked for Walt Whiteman, owner of the largest cattle ranch in the area—and the best paying one.

  “The name’s Tom Talbot.” He nodded and pulled a pouch of coins from his pants pocket.

  “Gabe Coulter. What’s your game?”

  “Five Card Stud.”

  Slim Trenton and Will McDaniels, two other regulars, pulled out chairs and joined them. The tinny music of the piano mixed with masculine laughter and chatter as men at each table talked loud enough to be heard over the racket. With his thumb and forefinger, Gabe slowly pulled his pistol out of his jacket holster as usual and laid i
t on the table—a sign that he brokered no funny business.

  Two hours later, the cockiness had gone out of Talbot’s blue eyes, replaced by disbelief at the first hand he lost, and then simmering anger as he tossed the last of his coins into the pot. Gabe had seen that look many times in his years as a gambler, even felt it himself often in the beginning of his career. But he couldn’t tell whether Talbot was angry at himself or Gabe.

  Talbot ran a shaky hand through his disheveled, curly blond hair and shoved away from the table. “That’s it. I’m broke.”

  Slim pushed up from the table. “Guess that pretty wife of yours ain’t gettin’ no money again this month.”

  Talbot grabbed the man by the collar. Gabe rested his hand on his pistol and watched. With a loud growl, Talbot heaved Slim backward into the wall. Then he turned and sidestepped, bumping into a barmaid, and wove his way to the exit. The double saloon doors banged and remained swinging as Talbot lurched outside.

  “Come on, Will. Time to head back to the ranch.” Slim rubbed the back of his head where it had smacked the wall then bent and picked up his hat from the floor.

  Will, the last cowpoke still seated, pushed upward, wobbled, and then grinned as he got to his feet. “I just need one more drink afore I hit the trail.”

  Slim grabbed his arm. “You’ve had enough for tonight. Let’s go.”

  Gabe watched them leave. He glanced around, knowing nobody was paying him any attention now that the action was over. He slid the glass of whiskey that had been sitting on the table most of the evening toward him, then dumped it down the knothole in the floor near the leg of the table. He couldn’t stand the taste of liquor and didn’t like what it did to a man, but in order to keep his table, he had to buy a few drinks now and then, as well as fork over a percentage of his earnings.

  He pocketed the coins along with a scratched but decent pocket watch he’d just won. Then he stood and stretched. Long ago, he’d eased his mind over taking hard-earned money from businessmen and poor cowboys. He never forced anyone to gamble. Men played games of chance for fun and relaxation after a hard week’s work, and if they wanted to risk their wages, who was he to deny them the opportunity? Occasionally he lost, but he read people so well now that he generally came out on the winning end. Stretching, he decided to call it an early night.

  Selma, a pretty brunette saloon girl, sashayed over and nuzzled up to him. “How about some company tonight, Gabriel?”

  He didn’t miss the sensual way she purred out his full name, or her pouty lips and the pleading in her dull brown eyes. But he never indulged in women of the night. The memory of his mother—a kind and godly woman, a lady who smelled of flowers and fresh bread, not whiskey, cheap perfume, and smoke—kept him from compromising himself. That, and the promise he’d made his ma.

  Gabe shook his head. “Not tonight, Selma.”

  She stuck out her lower lip as he set her aside. “It’s never tonight with you.” She turned and brushed up against one of the town’s bankers, who leered at her then tugged her to him.

  Gabe pushed through the doors, glad to be out of the smelly building. He glanced up at the stars and breathed deeply, relishing the fresh air. Being outside at night reminded him of the days back on the farm when he rose before the sun to do the milking—before life had turned inside out.

  He rolled his head, popping his neck, and headed toward his suite at the hotel. A smile crept to his lips at the thought of his ma scolding him for going to bed in the middle of the night and sleeping till noon. A day wasted, she’d have said.

  Up ahead, a group of cowboys stood by their horses, preparing to return to the ranches where they worked. Gabe hesitated then ducked down the alley—a place he generally avoided. But right now, it provided a better alternative than being caught alone with a pocket of coins by a rowdy group who’d mostly lost their hard-earned money and had far too many drinks.

  A full moon illuminated the path behind a doctor’s dark office and one of Kansas City’s many stores. Gabe’s boots thumped out a soft thud in the dirt as he listened to the peaceful noises of the night. Crickets sang in the tall grass just past the edge of town, and the piano music and the saloon ruckus dimmed. A cool breeze swept past his sweaty neck, sending a chill down his back.

  The crickets suddenly quieted, and a man stepped out of the shadows, his pistol pointed straight at Gabe.

  Halting midstep, Gabe assessed the situation, his hand aching to draw his weapon. He’d known walking back here was risky, and now he wished he hadn’t. Though he was a quick draw, he had no chance against a man whose gun was already drawn.

  “You cheated me out of my money.”

  Gabe recognized Tom Talbot’s voice and lithe form. The hairs on his nape rose. Was the man alone? Were his cohorts hiding in the shadows as Talbot had?

  “I never cheat.” Gabe growled out each word slowly as he attempted to gauge Talbot’s soberness. Having concentrated on the card game, he hadn’t noticed how much Talbot was drinking. A mistake he wouldn’t make in the future.

  If the man was inebriated and his reactions slowed, Gabe just might have a chance, even though the man’s gun was already drawn. First, he needed to distract him. “I didn’t force you to play. You knew the risk when you sat down at my table.”

  “My wife and boy need that money.”

  Gabe shrugged, tucking his jacket out of the way in case he needed to draw his weapon. He felt sorry for the man’s family, but Talbot should have thought of them sooner. Gabe forced away the unwanted memory of a hungry, crying boy.

  “Toss me my money, and I’ll be on my way.” Talbot stepped closer, moonlight illuminating his body.

  “Can’t do that. I won it fair and square. I wouldn’t be in business long if I returned every sad cowboy’s money.”

  “Talbot!” a voice in the distance called. “We’re leavin’.”

  In the split second that Tom Talbot cocked his head toward the voice, Gabe whipped out his gun. Talbot turned and fired. Gabe’s hand jolted as his Colt 45 blasted.

  His opponent jerked and stared at him with disbelief. The weapon fell from Talbot’s hand. He grabbed his chest with one hand and sank to his knees.

  Instant regret flooded Gabe as he lowered his gun. What had he done? Holstering his weapon, he rushed to Talbot’s side, wishing he’d handed over the money.

  “S–sorry, Lara…” Talbot tugged at something in his shirt pocket then wheezed his last breath.

  Gabe hung his head, remorse weighing him down. Things had happened so fast. Too fast.

  Moonlight reflected off the paper in Talbot’s pocket. Gabe pulled it out. A photo. He cocked it toward the moonlight, and the picture of a pretty woman with sad eyes took shape. In her arms rested a baby. Lara—Talbot said her name was—and somehow it fit. Had Talbot loved his wife? The man sure hadn’t been much of a provider from what Gabe had seen.

  He squatted next to Talbot’s body, once again gutted with guilt. He’d just made this woman a widow—and the baby, fatherless. Something he knew all about.

  He flipped the photograph over and held it up to the moonlight. Caldwell, Kansas. 1886.

  Guilt ate at him like a bad case of food poisoning. He shoved to his feet as people ran his way. The sheriff pushed through the crowd and studied the scene. Gabe could only hope the man would believe his story.

  Caldwell, Kansas

  April 2, 1889

  Michael tugged on Lara Talbot’s skirt. “Mama, somebody’s followin’ us.”

  Lara glanced over her shoulder and her heart jolted. Sure enough, a man she’d seen in town was riding through the prairie grass toward them.

  “Is it Pa?” A mixture of hope and yearning flashed across her four-year-old son’s face.

  “No, sweetie, it’s not him.” They hadn’t seen Tom in over a year. His creditors, however, frequently knocked on her door.

  Michael stared at the rider again, her son’s golden curls dancing on the light spring breeze. “Maybe he’s comin’ to see Gran
dpa.”

  “Maybe.” Lara’s stomach swirled as she searched for a hiding place among the waist-high grass. But surely the rider had already spotted them. She couldn’t tell Michael that she’d noticed this same man watching her in town. She hadn’t thought much about it then, since men tended to stare at women, but if he had business with her, why hadn’t he approached her in Caldwell?

  She tightened her grip on her son’s hand and quickened her steps, wishing she weren’t a whole mile from town and another half mile till home. The large bundle of mending she’d picked up from Mrs. Henry’s house weighed her down. If she dropped her burden, she could whisk Michael up and maybe hide in a gully by the creek, but she’d never be able to replace the expensive clothing should something happen to it.

  “Slow down, Mama.”

  Michael’s short legs pumped hard to keep up with hers. She slackened her pace and glanced back. The man was gaining ground.

  Tom’s debts were like a trail of bread crumbs leading to her door. Would this man be kind and compassionate or rude and demanding like most of the others?

  Not that it mattered. She had nothing to give any of them.

  The man must have realized she’d seen him, because he kicked his horse into a trot. Lara’s heart stampeded. Most folks in the area were friendly, but there were always those unsavory scoundrels who yearned to catch a woman alone.

  She shoved Michael behind one of the cottonwood trees that hugged the creek bank, dropped the load of mending, and grabbed the largest limb she could find on the ground.

  “Stay there until I call.”

  Her son looked up with wide blue-green eyes and nodded. His curly blond locks sprang up and down in spirals across his forehead.

  Lara sucked in a breath, tightened her two-fisted grasp on the branch, and stepped to the middle of the trail. As the horse neared, the animal’s eyes widened and its nostrils flared. The rider soothed his mount then hoisted his stout leg over the horse’s rump and dropped to the trail with a huff. On the ground, the short, portly man wasn’t nearly as intimidating. From the cut of his clothing she could tell he was a city fellow.