Samhain Publishing

Devils on Horseback, Book 4

The Civil War took more than Lee Blackwood’s arm. It took his confidence, his pride…and hope that any woman will see him as more than half a man. His friendships helped keep the demons at bay—until now. As each Devil has found happiness, Lee is left alone to cope with the darkness that claws at his soul.

Genevieve Blanchard has only one thing going for her: her no-good late husband’s run-down farm. That, and a fancy name no one can spell might get her a cup full of dirt in Tanger. Room, board and seamstress skills aren’t much, but it’s all she can offer any man willing to help her bring in her wheat crop.

Reluctantly Lee takes on the job, the widow’s smart-mouthed daughter and his growing attraction to a woman who stubbornly refuses to see him as anything less than whole. Slowly, his bitterness begins to fade under the light of their blooming love.

August 1867

Genevieve Blanchard had been blessed, or rather cursed, with a fancy name and not much else except an abundance of pride. It was that pride that kept her from asking for help for nearly six months after her no-account husband died.

Pride rode on her back as she made her way into town with a sullen Sophie beside her on the wagon seat. The seven-year-old took after her mama for sure.

“Now stop that bellyaching, Sophie. We need help and that’s all there is to it.” The words spilled out of her mouth, but they were hard to chew. Genny figured her daughter heard the doubt and latched onto it, like any stubborn female would.

“Not hardly. We can make do on our own. We have been since Pa died.” Sophie pooched out her lower lip and frowned so fiercely her small eyebrows nearly touched. She favored her grandmother, like it or not. The wavy brown hair, the light blue eyes, even the heart-shaped face all screamed Camille.

Genny shook off the memories of her mother and focused on getting the old workhorse into town. Ned was twenty years old if he was a day, and every morning Genny wondered if he’d be standing or lying hooves up in his stall when she went to feed him.

“Git up there.” She flicked the reins as they plodded along toward Tanger. Genny aimed to ask for a little help, only a week or two’s worth of work. She wasn’t a charity case and wouldn’t take help without something in return. If there was one thing she could do, it was sew really well. What she was hoping for was a single man who would trade some good hard work for new clothes. Much of Henry’s clothes were salvageable, and since he was such a big man, she could make them fit just about anyone with a bit of work with a sewing needle.

“I still don’t want to have a stranger at the farm.” Sophie folded her arms. “Pa wouldn’t like it.”

Genny swallowed a snort. It didn’t matter one whit what Henry would have thought of having a stranger help on the farm. As much as Genny loved Sophie, for certain there had been no love for the late Mr. Blanchard. He’d been a lazy man with three needs he constantly wanted satisfied. When Genny refused to provide one of those needs anymore, he went into town and found it at the whore’s saloon. For that, Genny had been grateful.

Sophie was a blessing in a life spent with a man twenty-five years older than she was. However, she didn’t want to have any more children. One was enough work considering Genny did the majority of the farm chores. Henry only worked when there were crops in the field. The other six months of the year, he sat on his ass and demanded to be serviced.

It was his laziness that convinced Genny she could manage the farm after his death. She had been doing everything herself already. She nearly laughed at the thought now. Little had she known just how wrong she’d be.

Shaking off the maudlin thoughts of her failures as a farm owner, Genny focused on Ned’s hindquarters. No need to be crying over spilled milk. What she needed was to stop whining and realize although she didn’t want help, she sure as hell needed it.

As they crested the last hill into Tanger, Genny’s courage tried its best to jump ship. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to keep going. What kind of example would she give Sophie if she gave up because of her pride?

Through conversations she’d had with neighbors at the last shindig in town a few months ago, she heard the men from Georgia were still doing work for folks who needed it. She hadn’t met any of those men except for the redheaded one who had married Gabby. It stood to reason that Genny could talk to Gabby about her needs at the farm. Asking for help would be a simple business transaction, nothing more.

Then why did Genny feel sick to her stomach?

Ignoring her breakfast churning around inside her, she headed straight for the mill. Although it wasn’t busy this time of year, she knew Gabby was usually there.

“Where are we going, Mama?”

“To see Miss Gabby and get some help for the farm.”

“But we don’t need—”

“That’s enough, young lady. Whether or not you realize it, we need help, and sometimes you have to accept the kindness of strangers even if it sticks in your craw.” Genny hadn’t meant to be so harsh, but judging by the look on Sophie’s face, perhaps the girl would finally accept the inevitable.

Genny wondered if she’d been talking to herself or Sophie.

“After we see Miss Gabby, can we go to the store for a peppermint?” Sophie turned her gaze up at Genny. The girl knew how to manipulate with those wide, innocent eyes, smart little booger.

“If you behave yourself, then maybe. Mr. Marchison might have a penny candy or two he could part with.” Genny was rewarded with a whoop of childish enthusiasm.

“Oh he always has peppermints, Mama. His little boy loved them so he gives them out to other young’uns. That way it reminds him of his own little boy.” Sophie’s explanation was simple, but the reasons for Matthew’s generosity were much more complex.

Genny knew the man was trying to make amends for his wife’s perfidy years ago when she had profited from kidnapping and selling the women in town. He also had lost his son in the war, and grief was a constant companion for the soft-spoken man.

When they pulled up to the mill, Genny realized her hands were shaking right along with the rest of her. She hadn’t considered the possibility that no one would be available to help her, which meant she would have to hire a farmhand. They could little afford to pay anyone. Hell, they could hardly afford to feed themselves. Thank God for a big garden and the apple orchard.

Her feet hit the ground and she pulled up her courage from somewhere near her toes. With each step she took, Genny’s throat grew tighter.

“Stay in the wagon while I find Miss Gabby.”

Wisely, Sophie nodded and clutched the rag doll Genny had made for her when she was born. Genny was blessed to have what she did, and she intended on keeping it all for Sophie. If they could hang on to the farm, she would inherit it and hopefully spend her life there with her own family.

Squaring her shoulders, Genny stepped up on the porch and walked into the mill.



Lee watched the wagon, pulled by the oldest horse he’d ever seen, stop in front of the mill with a woman and girl on the seat. He didn’t know either of them, but the girl looked vaguely familiar. Maybe he’d seen her at the Founder’s Day celebration in the spring.

He stood looking out the window waiting for Jake and Gabby to return. They had gone to see Doc Barham and asked him to keep an eye on her father. The man was bedbound and couldn’t speak, but Lee did what he could to help considering he was living at the mill without paying room and board.

It had been months since Lee had been in the restaurant. He spent his days doing accounts for businesses in town, including the restaurant, and his meager pay went into the bank. His friend Richard Newman assured him that within six months he’d have enough to buy his own place.

Lee craved the isolation of his own home, away from the noise and drama of other people. Each time Gideon brought the receipts to him, he asked when Lee would return to the restaurant. Of course, the answer was never. There was no need to live at the restaurant when he could do his accounting work anyplace.

This allowed him to stay away from Margaret and keep his sanity. Gideon accepted his decision, but that didn’t keep him from nagging at Lee almost every day.

The woman from the wagon stepped into the mill and Lee turned to face her. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but when she took off her hideous bonnet, her youth surprised him. She was younger than he was.

Her skin was the color of cream with a touch of honey mixed in. A smattering of freckles stood out on her long, thin nose. With reddish brown hair captured in a bun on the back of her head, she was average looking, almost plain. However, she had a forthrightness in her brown gaze that gave him pause. Not many women were able to do that.

“Is Gabby here?” Her voice was like whiskey, husky and throaty with a slight rasp that immediately made the small hairs on his body stand up.

What the hell was that about?

“No.”

She frowned and tried to peer into the depths of the mill. “Is she coming back soon?”

“Don’t know.”

“I have some business to talk with her about.” She scrunched the bonnet in her hands as she waited for Lee to respond.

He didn’t know why he was being rude. The woman had been polite and it wasn’t her fault that her voice did strange things to him. That didn’t stop him from being an ass, apparently. Lee brought his mother’s face to mind and tried to remember to be a gentleman, at least for his mama’s memory.

“She and Jake went to the doc’s. You can wait for her there.” Now that was a good suggestion. If he were lucky, she’d take it.

“No, I can’t do that. I’ll be right back.” She went back out the door and Lee wondered what she was doing.

When she came back inside with the little girl, he almost choked on his own spit. He wasn’t good around children, never was and likely never would be.

“My daughter and I will wait here for Gabby.”

The girl took after her mother a bit, but in an awkward knobby-kneed, buck-toothed way. Her hair was in two braids, but it was so thick, there were pieces sticking out every which way. She looked around the room, then at him and what was left of his arm.

“Mama, that’s the man who could shoot real good.”

Now the girl had surprised him too. He hadn’t even remembered the shooting contest at the Founder’s Day celebration. Too many things had happened since then, but she obviously remembered him.

The woman’s worried gaze dropped to his hips, likely expecting a gun to be hanging there. He almost snorted at the thought. It had been a long time since he carried a pistol every day.

“Hush. Don’t be rude now.” She nodded at him. “I’m Genevieve Blanchard, and this is my daughter, Sophie.”

Lee stared at her, consistently surprised by how much her voice affected him. If she had decided to be a whore, the men wouldn’t care what she looked like as long as she talked to them in bed. Not only that but she had a fancy French name too. Jesus, it was unnerving.

When she turned away to stand near the door, he realized he hadn’t introduced himself because he’d been staring at the woman like a fool.

“Sorry, ma’am, my mind wandered there. I’m Lee Blackwood.”

Genevieve reached out to shake his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Blackwood.” Her grip was as strong as expected for a woman who looked like she worked hard.

Lee didn’t know what to make of this woman. She was as plain as prairie grass, but she had bits and pieces that were extraordinary. All of it put together made him want to know more and at the same time, run the other direction.

“You can come sit in the kitchen if you’d like. I just made a fresh pot of coffee.” Now his mouth had taken over and invited her in. Just like that. Damn fool tongue had apparently made his decision already.

She stared at him for a few beats, peering into his eyes as if she could see into his soul and determine if he was lying. “I’d be much obliged. The ride in was long and dusty.”

Lee turned and walked toward the kitchen in the back right corner of the mill. It was the only living quarters downstairs and had a homey feel to it. The morning sun had warmed it up nicely and the smell of coffee permeated the air. It felt like a home to him, something he hadn’t experienced in some time.

Too bad it wasn’t his home.

The kitchen was as neat as a pin. Gabby was amazing—running a mill and keeping the house in order was no small task. The oblong table was covered in a green cloth Jake had given her for Christmas. Lee gestured to the woman and the girl.

“Please go ahead and sit. I can probably rustle up some milk for your daughter.”

For the last few months, Gabby had been on a milk binge. In fact, every other day, they got a milk delivery from a farmer just outside of town in exchange for one five-pound bag of flour a week. Jake had built a small milk shed right outside the back door. He’d diverted some of the river water into the bottom of the shed. The cold water then surrounded a metal tub where the milk cans sat. Ingenious really, and it kept the milk nice and cold.

Lee had never been one to drink milk much, but having it cold made a difference. Of course he only drank it around Jake and Gabby. Grown men just didn’t drink it like a baby. As he poured a glass, he considered taking a sip, but didn’t want a milk mustache or anything. The woman and her daughter were already watching him, he didn’t need to give them more ammunition.

By the time he stepped back into the kitchen, he felt calmer. He wasn’t used to strangers, and he sure as hell didn’t like to be around them more than absolutely necessary. Genevieve was sitting at the table talking quietly to the girl, who had her lower lip stuck out. He wondered what had set wrong with the little one, but not enough to task. It was bad enough he’d let them in and offered them a drink. He didn’t need to know anything else about the child.

He set the milk down and stepped toward the stove. “It’ll just take a minute to get the coffee.”

“I already did.”

Lee turned and saw two twin mugs of steaming coffee on the table. That was something he hadn’t expected at all.

“I’m used to doing chores and it didn’t seem right to make you wait on us, seeing as how we’re waiting on Gabby.” Genevieve shrugged. “I appreciate your hospitality.”

“So is it because I would have had to make two trips to bring the coffee to the table?” As soon as the words left his mouth like a black cloud, Lee could have kicked himself.

She blinked twice before she spoke. “I hadn’t thought about it. I was just doing what I always do.”

Hidden behind her brown eyes he spotted a wary honesty. Sometimes he let his mouth loose and it made him look like a huge ass. This was no exception.

“You could use a tray to carry things.” Genevieve pulled a cup toward her. “That way you don’t need to make two trips.”

Lee opened his mouth to speak then closed it again. She was right, of course, but the idea of using a tray had never occurred to him. Losing his left arm was not new, more than two years ago now, yet he still woke up at least once a week with an itch he could never scratch.

“I reckon you’re right.” He sat down with a thump across from her, cursing himself for having such a short fuse. He’d always had a problem keeping it under control, and losing his arm made it worse. His friends were the only ones who tolerated his outbursts, and sometimes they lost patience with him.

Lee picked up the cup and glanced at her. “Thanks.”

She pursed her lips and nodded. “You’re welcome.”

He should have been a bit more gracious, but he didn’t even know her. Gabby would kick his ass if she knew how he was behaving.

“Are you from around here?” There, that was polite.

She stopped, cup halfway to her mouth. Her lips were a deep shade of pink like the roses old Hettie grew outside her house in town. Just another feature of Genevieve that set him off balance.

“No, not originally.” Her accent was smooth, almost melodic.

Lee focused on trying to remember where he’d heard it, because it for damn sure wasn’t a Texas accent.

“We live on a farm and we don’t need no man to help us.” Sophie glared at him from over the top of the glass of milk, a white mustache sitting above her lips.

“I wasn’t offering,” he shot back.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d have sworn Genevieve smiled behind her coffee cup.

“Mind your manners, Sophie. We’re here to see Miss Gabby, not Mr. Blackwood.” When she leaned down to speak to her daughter, a curl sprang free from her hair and swung back and forth against her cheek.

Lee almost choked on his coffee when the urge to feel that curl raced through him. He covered his idiocy by clearing his throat and willing away the wayward thoughts.

He grasped at any topic of conversation to distract him. “How do you know Gabby?”

“My husband always brought the wheat crop to the mill.” Genevieve returned her focus to him.

Good thing she had a husband, made things a bit less stressful for Lee.

“Gabby was always here and since we’re about the same age, we visited when Henry and me came to town.” Her finger circled the rim of the coffee cup and Lee couldn’t help but notice the nails were clean and short, the fingers long and supple. He was startled to note there was no wedding ring on her left hand. Damn.

“Where’s your husband now?” He was embarrassed to realize his voice broke on the last word. Hell, he was an idiot asking a question he had no business asking.

“He died.” She glanced at Sophie with affection evident on her face. “Almost six months ago.”

This time when her gaze met his, Lee felt a spark jump between them and the air grew heavier. Genevieve was a naturally sensual woman. For reasons he didn’t want to contemplate, he was attracted to her. If he didn’t know better, he might also believe she was attracted to him. Unlike her daughter, who was still shooting daggers at him with her eyes.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Oh how he lied.

“Thank you. Henry was, uh, well, he gave me Sophie and a farm to run.” Genevieve let out a short laugh without much humor. “That’s what I need to talk to Gabby about. I need a man.”

Lee’s mind raced with various images of what Genevieve would look like nude on his bed. Damn, he was already getting hard. What the hell was wrong with him? It was no business of his who climbed into her bed or why she needed a man.

When he heard footsteps on the porch, he jumped out of his chair, startling Genevieve and Sophie. “I’ll be right back.”

Lee exploded out the door and slammed into Jake. The redheaded man grabbed Lee’s shoulders as he fell forward, stopping him from landing face first on the porch.

“Jesus Christ. What are you doing?” Jake steadied both of them before letting go of Lee.

Gabby stepped up beside them with both eyebrows raised. “Are you both okay?” Her long wavy black hair was in a fat braid lying over one shoulder while her hand rested on her stomach.

“I’m fine, but Lee looks like he saw a ghost.” Jake smiled and patted Lee’s shoulder.

“There’s a woman in there waiting for you. She needs a man and I need to get some air.” Lee pushed past them and headed to the waterwheel. He wasn’t kidding when he said he needed air. Just the thought of being with a woman, with Genevieve, made him break out in a sweat and get lightheaded.

The sound of the river rushing past the mill called to him. Lee continued on toward the bank and breathing room. Perhaps when he returned, the woman who’d knocked him sideways would be gone.