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

Mei approached Violet, blocking him from her view. She gripped Violet’s shoulder firmly. “Violet. Go back to Rory—”


Violet reached up and took Mei’s hand. “It don’t gotta be like this, Mei! We can take him to a sheriff or a marshal—!”


Mei scoffed, sharply. “And what sheriff or marshal wouldn’t shoot us on sight?”


“Then I’ll take him!” Violet argued. “We cross state lines, we find us a sheriff who don’t know me from Adam, and we turn him in!”


“P-please, ma’am!” The young man, bound by his wrists in twine, inched forward and pawed at the ground, begging for his life. Dirt streaked his tear-stained face. Violet could detect freckles from an innocent boyhood blossom from his rosy cheeks. “D-don’t kill me! I’m to be married this summer! Why I—I’ve not lived a fraction of life I should!” Sitting Bear thwacked the back of his head with his shotgun butt, silencing him. He took a shaky breath.


Chapter 77