Lyncee ShillardThe weight of Sara's death, hung like a shawl around Isabella's shoulders. The brakes squealed. They had arrived in St. Louis. Reaching for her small cardboard suitcase, she exited the train. A Union Pacific train waited on the other side of the wooden platform. It would take her to Twin Forks, Colorado, to a man expecting a tall woman with a million freckles and wild curly red hair. One who knew of ranch living. One who would be his wife.
She shook her head. How could she have been so crazy to think this would work?