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

“What about my shoes?” Violet asked, lifting up the hem of her skirt. She stared at her muddy boots. “They don’t exactly…erm…fit with it, do they?”


“The sun is gone,” said Madam Hen. “The sand is cool. Why not let your feet feel the earth, child?”


“Barefoot?” Violet grinned; she didn’t need convincing. Without ceremony, she kicked off her shoes and peeled away her socks, tossing them into the pile of her trail clothes. Madam Hen then led her to the mirror and stood back. Violet took in her reflection.


She barely recognized herself. This was not the form of a young girl, pinned up with buttons and lace. Nor was it a rough visage caked with dirt and sweat of the road. This was a woman, full and blossoming and mature. Her smooth shapes fit into the purple dress as though they were made for it. Her hair, curling in a way that was new, yet natural, bounced with fresh life against her rosy cheeks.


Chapter 100