Joetta's Legacy: Gamblers & Gunslingers, #5

By Kara O'Neal

San Antonio, Texas, 1878

Joetta Berk has plans for her future, if only she understood how to fit into society. Her youth produced nothing but ostracization because of her more serious, academic personality. Because of this, she is conducting research to write a book that will help others like her learn how to navigate the rules of society.

Caleb Murray, also known as the Raven Devil, notorious gunslinger, has vengeance in his heart and Joetta in his sights. He's intrigued by the beautiful woman who keeps herself apart from life, has an extensive vocabulary, and endless questions. But when he discovers she's the daughter of the man he hates most in this world, he decides to use Joetta to destroy his enemy.

 

As he puts his plan into motion, Caleb finds himself falling for the sweet and inquisitive Joetta Berk, but despite his feelings, his cruel intent is revealed. Joetta is shattered and vows to go on without him, to create the legacy she's always wanted.

 

But Caleb can't let that happen. Not without him. He will do whatever it takes to win her back, even if that means kidnapping the bride.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kara O'Neal
• Release date: Jul 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223328933

Kara O'Neal

Award-winning author, Kara O'Neal is a teacher and lives in Texas with her husband and three children. She writes stories with strong family ties, lots of romance and guaranteed happy endings! Visit her at www.karaoneal.com.

Book preview

Joetta’s Legacy

By

Kara O’Neal

––––––––

Gamblers & Gunslingers Series

JOETTA’S LEGACY, 1st Edition

Copyright © 2023 Kara O’Neal

Published by Kara O’Neal

Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

Also by Kara O'Neal

Gamblers & Gunslingers

Katie's Gamble

Felicity's Fortune

Cora Lee's Wager

Olivia's Treasure

Joetta's Legacy

Everleigh's Game

Texas Brides of Pike's Run

Saving Sarah

Welcome Home

The Sheriff's Gift

The Cowboy's Charms

The Miller Brides

The Soldier's Love

Love's Promise

Love's Redemption

The Editor's Kisses

The Ranger's Vow

The Cowboy's Embrace

Destiny's Secrets

Mr. Pierce's Hero

The Christmas Bride

Maggie's Song

The Inventor's Heart

The Deputy's Damsel

An Unacceptable Wife

The Cowboy's Bride

The Princess's Knight

Sunshine's Welcome

Forever Home

Wildflowers of Texas

Miss Green Eyes (Coming Soon)

Watch for more at Kara O'Neal’s site.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Also By Kara O'Neal

Joetta's Legacy (Gamblers & Gunslingers, #5)

For Sharen, Kristi, Farhat, Brittany, Jelise, | Allison, and Baely... | Ladies who work miracles.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

About the Author

Also By Kara O’Neal

Also By Kara O'Neal

About the Author

San Antonio, Texas, 1878

Joetta Berk has plans for her future, if only she understood how to fit into society. Her youth produced nothing but ostracization because of her more serious, academic personality. Because of this, she is conducting research to write a book that will help others like her learn how to navigate the rules of society.

Caleb Murray, also known as the Raven Devil, notorious gunslinger, has vengeance in his heart and Joetta in his sights. He’s intrigued by the beautiful woman who keeps herself apart from life, has an extensive vocabulary, and endless questions. But when he discovers she’s the daughter of the man he hates most in this world, he decides to use Joetta to destroy his enemy.

As he puts his plan into motion, Caleb finds himself falling for the sweet and inquisitive Joetta Berk, but despite his feelings, his cruel intent is revealed. Joetta is shattered and vows to go on without him, to create the legacy she’s always wanted.

But Caleb can’t let that happen. Not without him. He will do whatever it takes to win her back, even if that means kidnapping the bride.

For Sharen, Kristi, Farhat, Brittany, Jelise,

Allison, and Baely...

Ladies who work miracles.

Chapter One

SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS

May, 1878

Caleb Murray tipped up his flat-crown hat with a thumb as he watched the sun sink lower over Alamo Plaza. He hooked his elbows over the back of the bench that faced the mission and studied the way the sunrays hit the limestone of where Travis, Crockett, and Bowie had made their courageous last stand at the battle of the Alamo during the revolution.

Music, played on guitars, drifted on the dry wind, while around twenty women in colorful skirts and white blouses stood at fire pits and stirred pot after pot of spicy, steaming chili con carne. The Chili Queens, they were called. And their food was reason enough for him to never leave this town. People milled about—soldiers, cowboys, merchants, peddlers, tourists—enjoying the evening’s cooler temperature and comradery of the townsfolk.

Caleb had been in San Antonio for almost three weeks and hadn’t yet been challenged by anyone looking to be the man who outdrew the Raven Devil. He was still known, still feared, but so far, people had let him be.

His gunslinging infamy had a far reach. Many folks in Fort Worth, Wichita, Dodge City, Houston, and a whole host of other cities had pressed him, the Raven Devil, the man with the quickest gun in the south, to fight. But not here. Not so far.

For the first time in eighteen years, since his mother married his stepfather, Caleb felt relatively content. The perpetual burn for revenge still simmered in his gut, but for some reason, not as hotly while he rented a room in this town.

He hadn’t quite put his finger on why, but he didn’t care to study it too hard.

He sat, peacefully, observing those who promenaded in the plaza, on the hunt for the best chili. Caleb would partake, but he had another reason for his position. He was waiting for her.

After checking the progress of the sun, he noted she should arrive in a few minutes. He hoped she appeared. She hadn’t let him down yet, but there was always a first time.

He watched the intersection where Blum Street met the plaza, knowing she came from that direction. Who she was and where she lived, he hadn’t discovered. He’d been tempted to follow her whenever she left, but he’d held back, bothered by his interest.

Yet, here he sat, waiting for her.

His gut churned with slight irritation, but he didn’t get up. Didn’t seek out his usual nightly haunt, the White Elephant Saloon. Nope.

He needed to see her.

Because when she came, she’d sit, open a notebook, watch the people milling about, and write. And write. And write some more.

What was so interesting to her?

His curiosity kept him in his seat, and he knew he was going to cross the plaza and ask her. And so, he fixed his focus on where Blum met the dirt-packed open area surrounded by an opulent hotel—the Menger, a mission—the Alamo, and several shops.

When she appeared, wearing a light blue skirt, a white blouse, and her blonde hair in a soft bun, excitement kicked inside him. She perched on the steps of the post office and faced the tables where the Chili Queens worked their spicy magic.

His skin warmed at the sight of her. Even from fifty yards away, he could see her graceful beauty. But when she put on her spectacles, it made him smile. Every time.

He studied her as she began to write vigorously. As time went by, he noticed she paid special attention to two cowboys who swaggered from table to table, jawing with the ladies who stirred their concoction of beef and chilis.

A ridiculous surge of jealousy gripped Caleb, and he shifted on the bench, uncomfortable with his emotions. But, not once, in the last week of him observing her observing others, had she ever seemed to notice him. It irritated the hell out of him.

He usually didn’t have problems with garnering female attention. Often, he had his pick. Saloon gals, widows, lonely married women, even fine and wealthy ladies. They all enjoyed him.

The good ones, the church-going ones who took all that spiritual rot seriously, never gave him a second look, though. And maybe the object of his avid attention was one such woman.

If she’d seen him, she probably knew who he was. Most people did. And more than likely, she wouldn’t want anything to do with him. If she was the church-goer type, that was.

And today he was gonna find out.

He shoved to his feet and strode forward. He slipped around those mingling about the plaza, keeping his focus on the lady with her nose all but buried in her notebook.

Ten yards from her spot, the crowd cleared, and nothing but an expanse of dirt separated them now. She had a narrow-eyed focus on someone, but Caleb didn’t turn around to look. If it was the cowboys, Caleb thought he might growl at her when he finally opened his mouth.

He closed the remaining distance, his boots crunching on loose rocks in the packed dirt of the plaza.

At the noise, she turned her head and saw him. Finally.

He came to a stop and wrapped his hand around his gun belt.

She stared up at him, a slight crease between her blonde brows.

He could see now that her eyes were a startling blue behind the half-moon spectacles perched on the end of her nose. His gut tightened at her angelic beauty, and he grew aware that he was glaring at her. He shoved his idiotic jealousy to the side and gave her a crooked smile.

Evening, he drawled.

She nodded once. Hello. She hadn’t taken her gaze from his face and didn’t seem the least bit afraid of him.

Maybe she didn’t know who he was, but the Colts sitting low on his hips and the duster that protected his black pants, vest, and white shirt should give her a slight indication of his profession.

He smoothed a hand over his black stubble, then lifted his brow. Whatcha writin’?

Slowly, she closed her notebook. Then gave him an assessing look. I’m sorry, but that’s not something I’ll discuss with a stranger.

With a grin, he leaned down slightly and held out his hand. Caleb Murray.

She never took her eyes from his face as she cocked her head. What is your purpose, Mr. Murray? Why have you crossed the plaza to meet me?

Her inquiring tone confused him. He lowered his arm as his mind raced with why it seemed that he was being examined. It was not curiosity. It sounded like...research. He removed his hat and held it against his chest. Well, ma’am, he gestured toward her with his hat, I suppose I was intrigued by how much you’ve been writing.

Have you been observing me?

There it was again. A tone of analysis. Like a physician, almost. He cleared his throat but wasn’t about to tell her the truth. No, ma’am. He put his hat back on. I’m sorry I’ve disturbed you.

She shook her head. Ease your mind, Mr. Murray, for you have not.

He gave her a slight grin that she didn’t return. There wasn’t even a hint of coquettishness in her gaze. She wasn’t welcoming him, but neither was she asking him to go.

Uncomfortable, he shifted from foot to foot. Guess I’ll leave you to it, then. He inclined his head once, and as he turned to go, she said, It was nice to meet you, Mr. Murray.

Confused and a little irritated, Caleb walked away. But he believed her, despite her impassive face. She hadn’t minded his intrusion.

But not because she thought him fair to look at or thrilling because he was the dangerous and deadly Raven Devil. But for some other reason that he couldn’t fix on. Perplexed, he sauntered over to a table to purchase chili for his supper.

He had to work hard not to look over his shoulder to see if she watched him.

INTRIGUED, JOETTA BERK tracked the gunslinger, and probably gambler, as he walked away. He’d wanted to meet her. Odd.

No one ever wanted to know her. At least, not after she started talking. Mr. Murray would’ve been the same, but the very idea that he’d wanted an introduction at all flummoxed her. Quickly, she turned the pages in her notebook, hurriedly searching for the notes she’d made when she’d studied Mr. Murray two weeks ago.

She’d camped outside of the White Elephant Saloon in an alley, hoping to record the behaviors of one of the more elusive personality types—the gambler. No luck. However, Caleb Murray, with his guns riding low and his duster covering a tall, lean frame, had made the outing worth it. He’d been leaning against one of the posts outside the saloon, watching the action on the street. She’d ducked behind a barrel in the alley and had furiously written her observations.

She’d been able to tell that he was a gunslinger, but until this evening, she hadn’t known he was the Raven Devil. She’d instantly recognized his real name.

She found gunslinger in her notes and added the interaction she’d shared with Mr. Murray, hastily scribbling her impressions and the expressions on his face. Confidence had certainly radiated from him, and why shouldn’t it? He had nothing to fear, and the world was what he made of it.

His surety had faded somewhat when she’d not shaken his hand or entered into the light banter he’d offered her. But his attention had flustered her slightly. He was...quite handsome. His aura had struck her, and it had been all she could do to get words out.

She grimaced as she finished writing, hoping she was never in his purview again. His affect had unsettled her, and she didn’t want a repeat.

She glanced up to see where he’d gone and easily found him consuming a bowl of chili five tables down from her spot. He was a good four or five inches taller than most people, and his black attire stood out from the colorful skirts of the Chili Queens.

Her heart flipped inside her chest, and she bit her lip. Yes, he was handsome.

And dangerous. Very dangerous.

He was one of the reasons why she wrote. The rakish gunslinger needed to be cataloged and described for those fearful souls who needed resources for predicting human behavior. And she was going to provide that resource.

The sound of church bells tolling in the distance indicated the hour. Seven. It was time to go.

She rose and began the walk to the cottage she shared with Enzo and Karelia Fuentes. Sweet people. Husband and wife.

Childless.

And they’d been happy to give her a home during March through May, and again from September to November, while Joetta’s father, the owner of Sol Rojo ranch in west Texas, drove cattle to the stockyards in the north in the spring and fall. Joetta adored her home away from home, but she missed her father terribly.

Besides Karelia and Enzo, her father, Lucas Berk, was the only person she trusted and felt comfortable around. He allowed her to be who she was, quirky and odd. Serious and inquisitive. More apt to study than to enjoy a card game.

With her notebook pressed to her chest, she hurried down the concrete walk, going past the livery, other shops, and St. Joseph’s school. She kept her gaze averted from others who were out, and the store owners who were closing up for the day. She struggled to converse with people she didn’t know. She’d also rather not run into anyone she did know, either. She didn’t like to witness her acquaintances’ discomfiture when they made eye contact.

She was astute enough to understand that after people met her, they went away confused and uncomfortable, because conversing with someone like her was more difficult than it ought to be. She was terrible at mundane conversation.

Hence why she wanted to write a resource that helped her identify the qualities of various types of people. This would allow her, and others like her, the ability to determine topics of discussion most pleasing to acquaintances and friends, thus removing any awkwardness. She hoped.

When she reached the wooden fence surrounding the white limestone cottage that sheltered her and the older couple who cared so much for her, she hurried through the gate then up the stone path and into the house. The hearth sat in the center, able to provide light and heat to the kitchen on its right and the main room on its left.

Two bedrooms were to the left of the main room. The one situated in the back, left corner belonged to Joetta. She went inside to put her notebook away in the drawer of her desk. The scent of meat and chilis wafted toward her, and her mouth watered.

She hurried into the kitchen and found a simmering pot of spicy goodness on the stove. A rummaging from the larder drew Joetta’s attention. Karelia?

Butter, the woman answered back.

Joetta found biscuits on the counter, steam rising from their golden brown tops. Where’s Enzo? she asked as she used the ladle to serve herself.

Out back. Cookie’s sick. Karelia appeared, carrying the butter dish, her black skirt with its ruffled bottom swirling around her ankles. She wore her raven hair with its streaks of gray in a soft bun, and some tendrils had come loose, as usual. Her locks brushed against the olive skin of her neck and collarbones, exposed by the oval neckline of her white blouse.

Not too bad, I hope? Joetta asked. She served Karelia some chili and handed it to her after the woman had placed the butter on the table.

We’ll see. He had to come home early today and couldn’t finish the deliveries.

As Karelia sat, Joetta fetched spoons from the drawer. She then placed the platter of biscuits on the table. Mr. Gomez wasn’t too upset, I hope? If Mr. Gomez, the manager at the lumberyard, had been frustrated, that would only bother Enzo more than he might already be.

Karelia twitched her lips and gave Joetta a concerned shrug. Enzo didn’t say, but he seemed too worried about Cookie to talk.

Joetta eyed the back door that led to the small stables where the mules, Cookie and Corncob, were harbored. They’d been in the family for seven years, and Enzo loved them as if they were his children.

He’ll be all right, Karelia said, calling Joetta’s attention. She gave her a soft smile. Enzo likes to worry.

That was the truth. Joetta let out a breath then pulled out her chair, sitting to the left of Karelia.

Without a word, they made the sign of the cross, folded their hands, and said the blessing. When finished, they began to eat, and Karelia asked between bites, How was your day?

Joetta launched into the interesting behavioral observations she’d made, but in the back of her mind, Mr. Murray’s presence drifted. She’d never had such a...man...approach her. His quiet energy had smoldered, making her heart race. Why he’d wanted to meet her still perplexed her, and she had many questions for him.

What had prompted him to walk over to her? Why was he interested in what she was writing? He was a gambler. And a gunslinger. Caleb Murray.

His jet black hair gave her a partial explanation as to why his nickname was the Raven Devil. But he was also quick with his hands. Deadly. Concerned only with a sinful good time. Devilish. Deserving of his nick name.

He wouldn’t have been interested in her observations. That would have been ridiculous, and she shuddered inwardly, thankful she’d been spared the embarrassment.

So, you’ve finished your observations of the laborer, then? Karelia asked.

I believe so. Joetta smiled. That one has been easy to record, since Enzo is one.

Karelia sighed as she reached for a biscuit. The daily toil. It never ends.

Joetta’s smile widened. What would we do if it did?

With a noise of agreement, Karelia buttered her biscuit and commented, Pray the Lord comes quickly and mercifully.

Joetta laughed lightly.

Chapter Two

The following afternoon , Wednesday, Joetta walked briskly toward Main Plaza where ladies frequented the many shops. She’d spent the morning near Military Plaza, studying the soldiers and refining her earlier observations. Army men certainly appreciated structure, rules, and honest behavior. She imagined none of them cared for gunslingers like the Raven Devil.

When she reached the square of the plaza, she went toward the bank, hoping to find an out-of-the-way spot inside that would allow her the opportunity to assess the businessman. And also their secretaries.

She’d had some difficulties with this, as she had no reason to be in a bank, and even if she could find a chair in the lobby and remain unobserved, no one conducted meetings in the lobby. But, still, she would try.

Once inside the establishment, she studied the space briefly. Walnut paneling stretched to the ceiling, while a gleaming, walnut service counter with five barred windows sat at the back. Three doors with glass inserts stood on either side of the central area. People stood in lines leading to the service counter, waiting to complete whatever business they had.

She glanced to her right and rejoiced inwardly at the sight of two ladderback chairs placed on either side of a rectangular table that held pamphlets advertising land for sale. She took the one closest to the front door but didn’t open her notebook. She felt she’d be less conspicuous if she looked like she was waiting for someone.

She kept still and after five minutes of activity—men walking into offices for meetings with loan officers, others of all walks of life moving through the line to make withdrawals or deposits—and no one bothering her, she relaxed. But she still didn’t write.

At one point a gentleman—she identified him as a secretary because he’d been ordered to wait by someone dressed more finely than he—had stood in the lobby while his companion had entered one of the many offices. His brown, three-piece suit carried only a hint of dust, and his bowler hat partially covered blond hair that reached his shoulders. He paced, his expression one of nervous contemplation.

Another loan officer, one whose office was near where Joetta sat, emerged from within. He caught sight of the secretary and crossed the lobby, shaking hands with the man.

She didn’t have to strain to hear their conversation.

They wouldn’t let you in? the banker asked.

The secretary shook his head. It’s my idea, but I can’t have anything to do with it now.

The banker snorted. Bosses. Sons-a-bitches.

Joetta drew in a breath. Oh. So...there was an element of mistreatment for a secretary. And he was commiserating with a loan officer. Perhaps the loan officer had a similar issue with the president of the bank?

She listened intently as the men continued to converse, but the lines began to reach toward them as more people came in, and they got quieter. She wanted to know for whom the secretary worked. And was he a secretary? Perhaps he was more of an assistant.

She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes, wishing she could get closer.

Suddenly the door the pair stood near opened, and the possible assistant’s boss emerged, laughing jovially. Joetta imagined the meeting had gone well.

She checked the progress of the sun. It was close to five. She wanted to hurry over to the White Elephant Saloon and try to determine how she might get inside. She rose and left the bank, stepping into the heat of Texas in early May.

Working her way into a saloon was careless, and she knew it, but she didn’t know how else she would record the habits and personalities of the women and men who regularly patronized such a place. And while Joetta didn’t need to learn how to converse with such people, others might. It was not her place to determine which professions or types of persons to leave out of the resource she was creating.

Perhaps she could speak to the owner. Maybe he would allow her a spot to observe his patrons and employees.

When she reached the alley beside the saloon, she sidled up next to an empty barrel still with its lid and withdrew her notebook. She took a few minutes to record the interactions from the bank.

As she wrote, she kept her ears tuned to the sounds coming through the walls of the saloon. And, unfortunately, there was one particular voice for which she searched.

Mr. Murray.

She’d had difficulty falling asleep last night. She’d thought about his enthralling presence, had relived his crooked smile, and meltingly warm brown eyes. But what had captivated her more was that he’d approached her at all.

It was unsettling how much she was thinking about Caleb Murray. She needed to stop it.

She hadn’t been writing for very long, before a male voice called, What’ve we got here?

Fear jumped into her throat, and she whirled around.

Two men sauntered toward her from the back of the alley. Their guns rode low on their hips, and flat-crowned hats covered their long hair. They had their eyes narrowed on her, one looking at her with a mocking smirk, while the other, perhaps the one who’d spoken, watched her with an evil gleam.

She snatched up her book and darted toward the entrance of the alley.

Where’re you going? the same man called as he picked up the pace.

With her heart pounding in fright, she started to run as best her skirt and petticoat allowed. Just as she reached the road that crossed in front of the saloon, a meaty hand grabbed her shoulder and