Angelfire

Dear Readers, Old and New,

It is with joy that I give you one of the novels written earlier in my career. Some of you have read it, and will feel as though you’re meeting old friends; to others, it will offer a completely new reading experience.

Either way, this tale is a gift of my heart.

The characters in this and all of my books are the kind of people I truly admire, and try to emulate. They are smart, funny, brave, and persistent. The women are strong, and while they love their men, they have goals of their own, and they are independent, sometimes to a fault. More than anything else, these stories are about people meeting challenges and discovering the hidden qualities and resources within themselves.

We all have to do that.

We are blessed—and cursed—to live in uncertain times.

Let us go forward, bravely, with our dearest ideals firmly in mind. They’re all we have—and all we need.

May you be blessed,

Linda Lael Miller
4235 S. Cheney-Spokane Road, Ste. #1
P.O. Box 19461
Spokane, WA 99219

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For Sisters-in-love:

Susan Burgess

Donna Mahar

Karen Miller

Karon Lael
and

Maureen “Mo” Hamilton

Prologue

Near Brisbane, Australia—December 1872

THE BARK OF THE ACACIA TREE FELT ROUGH AGAINST THE INSIDES of Jamie McKenna’s wrists and the midday sun burned hot, scalding his bare back. Resting his forehead against the tree trunk to which he was bound, he closed his eyes and fought back the panic that threatened to engulf him. And he waited. That was the worst part, the waiting.

“Jamie?” The feminine voice came from behind him. “I brought you some water.”

Jamie opened his eyes, and his jawline hardened. “You shouldn’t ’ave come, lass,” he said. His voice sounded hoarse, hurting as it emerged from his dry throat.

Peony came to stand boldly beside him, her enormous green eyes filled with sadness. “I have a knife,” she whispered. “I’ll cut that rope and we’ll escape, the two of us together.”

In view of what was to come, the idea was not without appeal, but Jamie knew that the master would find them if they tried running away. The punishment for such flagrant rebellion would be that much worse, and it would include Peony. “No,” he said.

Tears welling in her eyes, Peony opened a canteen and lifted it to Jamie’s parched lips. She was a beautiful woman, with her emerald eyes and golden hair. At twenty-five, she was eight years older than Jamie, and she belonged to Increase Pipher as surely as his favorite horse and the gold-handled walking cane he carried.