Adam, Devils on Horseback: Generations, Book 1

Sometimes the universe has to turn your life sideways so love can find its way in.

Devils on Horseback: Generations
, Book 1

As the oldest of five, Adam Sheridan’s life is full of obligations. He longs to do something, anything, besides working his family’s flour mill in Tanger, Texas. His mama always says the universe moves in its own sweet time.

Apparently the universe was waiting for his wagon load of flour to overturn so he could meet the woman he was destined to love.

Eve Tate is a woman from nowhere with a shady past and an uncertain future. When she is left behind in Adam’s care, she reinvents herself again to be his perfect mate. Little does she know who she was will haunt who she tries to be.

And, just like the couples of old, Adam and Eve must find a way to live together—or lose everything they have.

Warning: Contains a redheaded man with a Texas-wide stubborn streak, and a chameleon-like woman with a heart that needs attention and a soul that needs redeeming. Foolishness, canoodling and deep abiding love result.

Devils on Horseback:
Generations
Adam

Beth Williamson

Dedication

I’m reminded often of how crucial and life-changing libraries are for everyone who crosses their thresholds. The children’s library in Danbury was my favorite place to visit on Saturdays; then I graduated to the adult library with my shoulders straight with pride.

Ergo, I give a hearty thank-you to all the librarians and people who work tirelessly to bring books to the world.

Signed, a lifetime reader and grateful author.

Chapter One

Ma
y 1888

Tanger, Texas

When one hundred pounds of wheat flour exploded, the ensuing cloud of white was spectacular to watch. Not so spectacular to be in the middle of.

Adam Sheridan crawled out from the overturned wagon and coughed, covering his mouth to not breathe in. After freeing the horse, Farina, from its traces, he had to half walk, half stumble at least twenty feet away before he could see something other than the flour cloud that enveloped him. Adam wiped at his eyes and blinked, annoyed with the whiteness clinging to his lashes.

What really irked him though was the woman who’d caused the accident in the first place. She’d been walking in the middle of the road on a blind curve. He didn’t care why, but he sure as hell cared that she had nearly killed him, not to mention the flour loss.

In the distance he spotted a wagon lumbering along down the road. It wasn’t a local rig, that was for sure. It was made of green wood with red-and-yellow shutters on the back windows. The roof was curved, with a smokestack protruding from it. Too bad they were too far away to help, even if it looked like a gypsy wagon. Any help was better than no help. For now he would be on his own in the biggest mess of his life. Damn.

He cursed again and kicked at the wagon lying on its side in the dirt while the flour continued to rain down around him. The bags should have been tied closed and secure, but he’d been in a hurry. His father had asked him to secure the load, as he always did on Sunday evenings. Adam had spent the day with his cousins instead and so he’d done all his chores in the predawn light while his head pounded from the whiskey that had found its way into his mouth the night before.

And now this. Shit on a shingle.

The bags had been thrown when the wagon tilted onto its side. An ominous crack had preceded the back axle snapping in two. Adam had tried to jump free, instead landing on his shoulder with a painful thump. He wasn’t hurt, but his ears were ringing. Not to mention the amount of flour settling on him. He’d probably find traces of it in his nose and ears for a week.

Farina high-stepped around as though he were checking to make sure nothing was broken. He blew out loudly through his nose. Adam patted the gelding’s neck.

“Sorry, boy.” He peered through the cloud of white and saw the woman who’d caused it all. His anger surged anew.

She walked toward him as though she were out for a casual stroll on a Monday afternoon. The closer she got, the more his first impression of her changed. Walking was too benign a word. She moved like a dancer, full of grace and a sensuality that was like a punch to the gut. He coughed to cover his reaction to this sensual creature who was turning white beneath a cloud of flour. She wore a white blouse with intricate, fragile lace, buttoned up to her chin, and a long skirt the color of a blueberry. Her entire outfit had ragged edges and was faded, as though washed until it was almost transparent. Her hair was dark brown and done up in some elaborate knot at the back of her neck. She carried a ragged tapestry bag in her delicate-looking hand.

“My name is Eve. Are you injured?” Her gaze roved over his body. “Any pains in your neck, arms, legs or back?”

Adam and Eve.

There had to be some kind of reason why they ran into each other, literally. His mother always told him the universe did what it wanted when it wanted. Apparently it wanted him to lose more than fifty dollars of flour to meet a wandering girl named Eve.

What could the universe have been thinking?

“I’m a little sore, but I’m fine.”

“Good. If you feel faint, you should sit down so I can check you for injuries.”

Was she a nurse or something? “I said I’m fine.”

She gestured to Farina, now munching at the grass by the side of the road. “Your horse is unhurt?”

“He’s fine. Thank you for asking.” Adam managed to sound polite when all he wanted to do was let his anger loose. His head pounded harder. “He’s a tough old gelding.”

She nodded as though he’d said something intelligent, which of course he hadn’t.

“You will ride him to get help?” she asked.

“Ah, no. He won’t let me ride him. I’ll have to walk him back to town.” He looked south toward Tanger, knowing it would take him a full half a day to get there on foot. Judging by the late day sun, he’d make it partway back before he’d have to stop for the night.

Son of a bitch.

Her dark brows went up. “Unusual for a horse.”

It was such an inane conversation he couldn’t continue. Nope, his gut burned to let loose the torrent of words crowding his throat. Once Adam’s temper ruptured, there was no going back. A gift from his Italian mother.

“What were you doing in the middle of the road?” Oh, that was it. There was no stopping it now. “You nearly got all of us killed. You must have heard me coming. That wagon is noisier than a herd of pigs farting.”

Her brows went up. “Pigs farting?”

“Now I’ve lost at least fifty dollars worth of flour, not to mention the wagon, which will probably have to be cut up for firewood.” He ran his hands through his hair, dislodging another cup or two of flour. He coughed and waved his hands, no doubt looking like a lunatic.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you coming. I’ll be happy to pay for the damage.” Her eyes were a darker blue than her skirt. The fact he noticed that notched up his anger.

“Sure you will. Now I’ve got to clean up as best I can and get hoofing it home.” He turned around, unwilling to tear into her anymore. His mother had raised him to be a gentleman, even if he had forgotten that fact for the last five minutes.

He returned to the wagon and pulled out the basket of food that had gotten lodged under the seat. A few things had fallen out, but he brushed them off and tucked them in the basket. He’d need the food since he wouldn’t be home until tomorrow. Fortunately, there was also a bedroll and a rifle. He gathered everything and set it aside.

He wanted to save as much of the flour as he could. Some of it might be salvageable, but he couldn’t carry it with him. The sacks were fifty pounds when full. He couldn’t walk forty miles with all of it. Instead, he stood behind the wagon as it lay on its side and pushed it over. It landed with a crash and another cloud of dirt and flour.

Adam figured the wagon could protect the load from the elements and critters, both two- and four-legged. He coughed again, then sneezed. As he pulled the handkerchief from his pocket, he spotted the woman, Eve, peering at his gear.

He marched toward her, full of indignation. How dare she try to steal from him? He snatched the rifle from the ground and pointed it at the ground. A growl built in his throat.

She looked at him and smiled. “I would not steal from you, Mister, ah?”

“Sheridan. Adam Sheridan,” he spoke through his teeth.

“I told you I would reimburse you for the accident.”

He glanced at her clothing and bag. The woman didn’t appear to have two cents, much less fifty dollars. “No need. I’ll be on my way and you be on yours.”

Adam hefted the basket and bedroll, then nodded and turned away from her. After he wrapped Farina’s reins around the handle of the basket, he started walking south. He had plenty of miles to think of how angry his mother would be. How disappointed Pa would be.

How Adam would be reminded, for thousands of minutes, how much he hated flour.

Ev
e had spent her life meeting new people and stepping into new experiences. However, the red giant who had blustered and shouted at her was something new. Her stomach danced and her hands shook, all of which she hid from the stranger. She’d always hidden her true feelings from anyone outside. Therein lay danger.

Especially from this man. He was so very
different
.

Where did she begin? He was enormous. She had needed to crane her neck to look at him. This man with the hair the color of the sunset and eyes as blue as her own. However, nobody looked like this man. He said his name was Adam Sheridan. The man confused her, and at the same time, interested her. She knew of attraction and passion. Eve had experienced very little of it, at least the real kind.

Until now.

To her horror, her nipples had hardened when he gazed at her body. He’d glanced away and shouted again. She resisted the urge to cross her arms. Eve was open to embrace new experiences, but she wasn’t sure that applied to her nipples misbehaving.

As she watched him walk away, she contemplated whether she should follow him. She was alone, without knowing exactly where she was. He moved at a brisk pace, mumbling to himself while the docile horse followed him like a big dog.

Th
e road was dry from little rain. Each step Eve took in her worn leather shoes elicited a puff of dust from the ground. She kept her gaze on the road rather than the man ahead. Disappointment and anger swirled around her, choking her.

The events of the last few hours had ended her time with the Roma. She could weep or rail at the sky, or she could choose to find a way to survive. She could choose to be strong. She could choose to be determined.

It wasn’t the first time she’d started over, more like the dozenth. Eve was like a cat, landing on her feet and continuing to move forward. This time was no different.

The man whirled around to scowl at her. “Where did you come from anyway? And why were you in the middle of the road?”

“The people I worked for, traveled with, went one way and I went the other.” The words tasted like bitter ash in her mouth. She’d been almost happy with them. She had almost tasted the sense of belonging. No more.

“So you thought you should walk in front of my wagon?” He sounded incredulous.

“I didn’t do it intentionally.” Her mouth twisted into a grimace. “I’m sorry your wagon got wrecked.”

He cussed loudly. “I never intend to cause a disaster, but it seems to follow me. My uncle Gideon tells me I have my stars lined up wrong.” Adam raised a fist at the sky. “Maybe one day they’ll line up just perfect. Or not. Ha!”

Adam slowed his pace and the horse nudged his back with its large snout. He turned to look at her.

“Where are you going? You’ve been walking like a soldier going to battle. Head down and legs moving faster than a little thing like you should move.” He called her a little thing, which surprised her. Eve was as round as she could be, and she couldn’t even think about her oversized breasts without grimacing.

“What of it?” She threw her hands in the air. “I don’t want to be out on the road when darkness falls.”

“Which will be in about eight hours.”

“And how am I to know how far the next town is?” She was shouting and she didn’t want that. Eve was passionate, but she rarely lost her temper, because it was too dangerous to be out of control. Until now. Until the red giant. His anger made her own temper flare. Like spark to a flame.

She’d been left behind to start anew. It was much harder than it had been previous times, by her choice or by others’ choices. Although she hadn’t truly belonged with them, she had been with them longer than any other group or place. Not that she knew what a home was, but it felt pretty damn close.

He scratched at the ginger-colored whiskers on his chin. “I don’t know where you’re headed, but I’m going home. And Tanger is about a half day’s walk.”

She was able to pull in a ragged breath. “Then I’ll get there faster if I move quickly.”

“Oh no. You’re not coming home with me.” He clutched the traces from the horse that had found a patch of grass to munch on. “You cost me fifty dollars and I’ve got to find a way to explain it. It will take me a year to pay my parents back. Because of you.” The words fell from his mouth, hitting her like rocks, each one a blow.

“I did nothing.”

He snorted and started walking again. “Suit yourself. I’m going home.”

Eve felt as if someone had punched her over and over until she was bruised and gasping for air. How could a day go so horribly wrong? Perhaps she was trapped in a nightmare and soon she would wake. She pinched her arm, but nothing happened except a red mark on her skin.

Eve followed. She didn’t know where she was and this angry man was the closest thing she had to finding her way to civilization. He might not like it, but he was stuck with her, short of shooting her. The sooner she arrived in a town, the sooner she could find a way to survive.

It was time to reinvent her life. Again.