The Archer Family Ranch Books 6 - 12 (EBOOKS)

Pepper Archer stepped into the Tombstone Epitaph office, her auburn braids bouncing with each determined step. Her simple cotton dress rustled softly as she passed the rows of desks, the newsroom humming with the sounds of pencil scratch and the occasional curse from a frustrated journalist. The air smelled of ink, musty paper, and the faintest trace of pipe smoke.

She had been working there for months now, her days filled with reporting on lavish parties and high society gossip. She yearned to investigate corruption and injustice, to expose the truth and make a difference. But her Uncle Brett, the new editor with a sharp eye and a graying beard, always told her to be patient.

“Good morning, Pepper.” He greeted her as he came in right behind her, tipping his bowler hat. His eyes twinkled with amusement as he added, “Are you off to cover another barn-raising, or perhaps a tea party?”

Pepper narrowed her eyes, but managed a tight-lipped smile. Brett Dowd had recently returned to Tombstone from a stint at the San Diego Tribune. He’d officially joined the Tombstone Epitaph as editor, but she knew him much better as one of her father’s closest friends—practically an uncle to her. It was a bit of a mixed blessing as he was very encouraging about her reporting efforts but also had known her since she was born—and sometimes treated her like the child he remembered rather than the grown woman she was now.

“I’m off to report on an important meeting concerning the planting of trees,” she replied, her voice hinting at sarcasm.

“Ah, yes. Trees. Well, I’m certain that if anyone can make that interesting, it would be you, Pepper.” Mr. Dowd laughed and entered his office, closing the door behind him. 

Pepper sighed, and she turned to her brother-in-law, Matthew, who sat behind the assistant editor’s desk, his dark hair tousled and a pencil behind his ear. “Any chance I can cover something more exciting today, Matthew?”

Matthew handled actual reporting assignments, and Pepper had spent months trying to prove to him she was worthy of an assignment that didn’t involve ladies with feathered hats and leather gloves, fanning themselves in the Tombstone heat.

He’d been scanning the stack of papers on his desk, and he looked up and sighed. “Pepper, you know how it is. Society events are important here, and we need someone to report on them. The ladies expect them. Besides, you’re still learning the ropes, and there’s a lot of value in covering the lighter side of life.”

Pepper slumped into a chair, her frustration barely masked. “It’s just—I didn’t take this position just to report on tea parties forever.”

Matthew dropped the stack of papers onto his desk and took off his glasses. “You’re a fine writer, Pepper,” Matthew assured her, his tone gentle. “Better than most. But you’ve got to pay your dues. We all did.”

She groaned, and thought that even though she was the youngest of the Archer sisters, she was old enough to be trusted with more.

Her jaw tightened as she fought to keep her composure, unwilling to let the frustration show.

“I know everyone has to pay their dues,” she muttered, folding her arms, “but maybe there’s something—just a little more challenging next time?”

Matthew shook his head, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I’m sorry, Pepper. Not today. Maybe soon.”

Pepper stood, her chin lifted defiantly. “Very well, then. I shall go and report on the ever-thrilling topic of trees.” She turned on her heel, her braids swinging as she stalked back through the office.

Pepper sighed, adjusting her skirts as she stepped out into the blazing sunlight. The heat wrapped around her like a heavy blanket, but the warmth inside her burned hotter—her desire to prove herself as a journalist. She wasn’t just a woman with a flair for words. She could see the injustices in this town, feel the stories waiting to be told, buried beneath the polite facade of high society gossip. Yet time and again, she was dismissed. 

As she stepped out onto the wooden boardwalk, the Arizona sun beat down, causing her to squint a bit. Horses and buggies clattered by, their hooves clopping on the packed earth. The distant sound of a piano drifted from a nearby saloon, mingling with the jangle of spurs and the laughter of men and women going about their daily business.

Pepper took a deep breath. Though she loved her town, its bustling energy only served to remind her of the excitement she craved. She yearned for a chance to prove herself as a serious journalist, to show that she was more than just a young girl with a talent for spinning amusing anecdotes about the latest social gathering.

Her older brother, Hank, appeared beside her, his easy smile only aggravating her further. Hank had always been able to do what he wanted to do. Heck, he and his wife Clara had their own horse training arena, with clients from all around the Arizona Territory and beyond. And nobody told them what to do. She was happy for them, of course, but she wanted to be happy, too.

“I know that look,” he said with a tug on one of her braids. “What’s eating you, Pepper?” he asked, easily falling into step beside her.

Pepper vented her frustrations, detailing the encounter with Matthew and her ongoing struggle to be assigned anything of substance. 

“I get it, Pepper,” Hank said, leaning against the storefront with a grin. “But believe me, when you’re up to your elbows in trouble, writing about robberies, outlaws, and the like, you’ll wish you were back reporting on tea parties. It’s not all excitement, you know.” He shot her a sidelong look. “Some stories weigh you down. You gotta be ready for that.”

Pepper huffed, brushing off his warning. “I’m not afraid of hard work, Hank. I’m not afraid of anything.” She tried to keep the edge from her voice, but it was there. It always was when someone tried to tell her what she was or wasn’t ready for. Hank shrugged, his smile softening. “I know you’re not. But you’ve got to play the game first. Show your worth.” He gave her braid another tug and ambled off, leaving Pepper standing in the dusty sunlight, her determination hardening like the desert ground beneath her feet.

Despite her brother’s advice, Pepper’s determination to prove herself only grew stronger. She vowed to grasp her next chance, no matter how dangerous or difficult it might be. She would show everyone—her editor, her brother-in-law, and even herself—that she was more than capable of handling whatever challenges Tombstone offered.

With renewed purpose, Pepper straightened her shoulders and marched towards the meeting, her mind already racing with ideas for how she might turn the mundane event into a story that would captivate her readers. She would find a way to make her mark on the world of journalism, one way or another.

She sighed and entered the lavish parlor where a group of elegantly dressed ladies had gathered to discuss raising funds for shade trees on Allen Street. The conversation was as stifling as the heavy, floral-scented air that filled the room.

“Mrs. Worthington, I must insist that we avoid planting trees near the saloons and gambling houses!” the Widow Samson declared, her cheeks flushed with indignation. “After all, such disreputable establishments do not deserve the comfort of shade, don’t you think? And certainly not at the expense of public monies.”

Pepper struggled to suppress a smirk at the Widow Samson’s audacious remark.