Ruth Hanson

America, 1887. In a country healing from the horrors of the Civil War, the American West has never been more treacherous. Evil men do as they please, and the often faulty and corrupt justice system does little to nothing to help their victims. Enter the Railwalkers. Bandits whose only goal is to punish those whom the law has allowed to walk free. Some think they're an 28 legend, meant to scare would-be criminals into submission. Some see them as no different than the murderers they kill, while to others, they are angels of mercy. To Violet Donovan, they are family. Growing up as the sole heiress to the sizable Donovan estate, Violet's place of privilege allowed her wild spirit to flourish. Despite the pressures of her sex -- find a husband, stay pretty, have children, be subservient, don't speak out of line -- Violet is passionate, loud, stubborn, and untamed. However, at the ripe, marriageable age of twenty, Violet faces the fact that she may have to give in to her mother's wishes and marry mean, ugly Eustace Carpenter, the only other family name in their little town with comparable worth. But Violet's life changes forever when she is saved from an attacker by a strange woman. A woman who, like Violet, doesn't exactly fit the mold. Unfortunately Violet gets mixed up in a murder charge and has to leave everything she knows for a life on the run from the law. Through divine intervention, she and the woman cross paths again, and Violet comes to know her and her comrades. They are Mei Wong, Linus Cooper, Sitting Bear, and Rory McNab. The infamous Railwalker gang.

The Railwalkers

Violet nodded. “Yes. And no. I never knew the horrible things he did until he tried doin’ them to me. Until Mei…” Her words died. “In any case, the Lord warns us against killin’, I’m sure you know that. But in this situation, well, I suppose I’m happy he’s gone. I’m happy he won’t hurt you again.”


Surprisingly, Beatrice breathed a short and bitter laugh. “He won’t hurt me again?” She faced Violet fully. Now, with angry tears in her eyes, Beatrice let Violet look over her scars. They were more horrible in the morning light than the dim sun of the afternoon. “What do you see when you look at me?” Violet couldn’t answer. “He did more than hurt me, he cursed me. I was so beautiful before. Boys would linger for hours just to get a look or two. And now? I’m a monster.”


“No, you’re no monster, Beatrice. Munts, he’s the real monster. And he’s paid for his crimes.”


Chapter 50