South Dakota 1870’s

Jessica Smith huddled in the corner of the small back room of the Lawson Bank. Her hands trembled and she was having heart palpitations. The moisture in her mouth dried up. Fear curdled her stomach. How much more bad luck could she endure? How low would she be forced to sink before she died?

Life had always been tough, but she didn’t want it to end at eighteen. Her quest to see the Bank Manager, regarding the notice in the window advertising for a cleaner, had got her into this predicament - caught in the middle of a hold-up.

What had possessed her to try to see the Bank Manager dressed in an oversized man’s coat that reached her knees, but couldn’t hide the black, lace trimmed frills of her bright blue skirt? What kind of fool would do that? A desperate one.

On hearing the commotion of masked men crashing through the door of the bank, she had ducked in here without being seen. There was nowhere to hide in this small room with barred windows. A steel door, leading to God alone knew where, had been bolted.

A mahogany desk was open at the front and back. Nowhere to hide there, either. She surveyed the rest of the room, empty except for a large safe secured to the wall.

If the robbers didn’t venture in here, she would escape detection. If they did? Shudders shook her slight frame – she was dead.

A couple of women screamed. A man’s gruff voice ordering everyone to sit against the wall was followed by an ominous silence. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

The door was flung open with such force it bounced off the wall. A masked man entered. He raised his gun. “What’s a saloon gal doing skulking in here? Get outside with the rest of the hostages.”

He grabbed her arms and pushed them behind her back. Desperately she kicked out at him, twisting and turning, all to no avail. He dragged her out into the main chamber of the bank where several people cowered against the wall. Without a word, he bound her hands tightly behind her back. A shove sent her hurtling into the lap of a man who sat in the corner.

“Sonofabitch.” The man kneed her in the back and she rolled off him.

“Ethan!” Shock made her voice shrill.

“Well, if it isn’t Jessica.” He savaged her with one glare from his piercing blue eyes. “You thieving little whore.” She inwardly cringed at the loathing and revulsion on his face.

“Shut up,” the robber snarled.

When he moved away she lowered her voice.

“I’m sorry I stole your coat…”

“Where’s my money?” Ethan hissed.

“What money?”

“The money you stole.”

“I didn’t, only the coat.”

“What about the sixty dollars in the pocket?”

 “Shut up, I won’t tell you again.” One of the robbers took a menacing step toward them.

Jessica turned her head and mouthed, “I didn’t.”

Never in her worst nightmare would she have thought she would meet up with Ethan again. A man she had lied to, tricked and robbed.

She closed her eyes to block out his anger and contempt. Her life suddenly flashed before her eyes.