The Cowboy's Stolen Bride (Historical Western Romance)

by Cassidy Hanton

  “You called my bluff about shootin’ you and all. You won that hand. Good for you,” he said. “But my patience with you done run out a while ago so don’t make me come git you again. Believe me, you wouldn’t like it. So climb on outta there.”

  A choked sob passed her lips as the tears continued to stream down Adeline’s face. She had never felt so utterly defeated before in her entire life. She had never known the depth of hopelessness and despair she felt in that moment.

  Adeline finally did as he asked and climbed out of the hollow. He seized her by the arm and dragged her out, tightening his grip and pulled her along the path back toward his horse and toward an uncertain future. She had no idea who it was that had paid this man to kidnap her or what he wanted with her. And the merest thought of it was enough to send terrified chills up and down her spine.

  Step by grudging step, Adeline felt fear rising inside of her and knew it was only a matter of time before she was pulled under and drowned in it.

  Chapter Thirty

  Ernest was up with the sun the next morning and tried to get back into some semblance of a normal routine. He tried doing a few of his regular chores and the tasks that needed doing to keep his ranch functional but couldn’t stop his mind from working. He was distracted in the worst way, which meant trying to work his ranch was as good as useless.

  His conversation with Richard the night before still clung to him like a bad dream and had him feeling disconcerted for reasons he couldn’t put his finger on. But something about it – something about Richard maybe – left him feeling disturbed and shaken. Damned if he could figure out why though.

  On the surface, it made sense. Adeline’s kidnapper had sent him a telegram demanding money for her safe return. There was nothing outwardly unique about that – Ernest had heard of plenty of kidnappings for ransom in his day.

  And by the same token, Richard wanting to handle the affair on his own, without outside intervention also made some measure of sense. Off the top of his head, Ernest could think of at least two kidnappings that had been botched by the authorities that led to the killing of the kidnapped persons. Cutting out the variables that couldn’t be controlled and handling it direct, man-to-man, made sense.

  But even still – something tickled the back of his mind that bothered him about the whole deal. And it bothered him more that he couldn’t figure out what it was.

  With no better ideas about how to reconcile that disquiet in his mind availing themselves to him, he did the only thing he could think of – he saddled up his horse and rode into town.

  The day was overcast and gloomy – which matched his mood perfectly. In the distance he saw flashes of lightning illuminate patches of clouds and heard the distant roll of thunder. He climbed down off his horse and handed the reins to the kid at the corral, absently dropping a couple of coins into his hand.

  “Little extra feed and water,” Ernest said. “And give her coat a good brush.”

  “Yes sir,” the kid replied.

  The street was buzzing with activity as people made their way to this store or that store, stocking up on goods in anticipation of a coming storm. Given the way people were scurrying about, you’d think the storm of the century was bearing down on them and was imminent. But Ernest stood and watched the clouds in the distance for a moment, trying to figure out if the storm was coming this way or not – and wasn’t convinced it was.

  “My pa says the storm’s gonna swing south and pass us by,” the kid said.

  Ernest tipped his hat to the kid. “Thanks.”

  He was pretty sure the kid’s pa was right, which was good news. Tracking Adeline in wet, rainy weather would be difficult, if not impossible. And that’s exactly what he had a mind to do – get out and look for her. He knew Richard said he was paying a handsome ransom for her return but the more Ernest thought about it, the harder the feelings of disquiet in him reared up.

  Ernest’s first stop was the Sheriff’s office. Stood to reason that’s where he’d find the man he was looking for. Instead, all he found was Milton’s deputy. Archibald wasn’t more than nineteen – but didn’t look a day over twelve – not with a shock of red hair, freckles across the bridge of his nose, bright and inquisitive blue eyes, and a layer of baby fat still clinging to his midsection.

  He was smart though. Quick on his feet and from everything Ernest had ever seen of the kid, he was fearless. They were all great qualities and the kind you’d want in a lawman. They were also the kind of qualities that – if you crossed the wrong crowd – could get you dead quicker than spit.

  “Mornin’ Archibald,” Ernest greeted him.

  “Mornin’ Mr. Wallace,” he replied. “S’pose you’re lookin’ for Sheriff Stephens?”

  “S’pose I am.”

  The kid nodded. “He’s over at the Delta havin’ breakfast,” he said. “Probably not the best time to disturb him though.”

  “No? Why’s that?”

  Archibald shrugged. “Came in first thing this mornin’ in a mood fouler than a bear with a toothache.”

  Ernest laughed and tipped his hat to him. “I s’pose I’ll just take my chances on myself then,” he said. “If I get mauled, it’s all my own doin’ and you don’t need to feel a lick of guilt.”

  Archibald laughed. “Oh believe me, I won’t.”

  Ernest walked out of the Sheriff’s office, closing the door behind him. He crossed the hard packed dirt street, dodging around a couple of slow moving wagons and men on horseback, and stepped up onto the elevated wood-slat sidewalk on that side of the road. A couple of doors down was The Delta – one of Talon Peaks’ two restaurants. It also happened to be Milton’s favorite so this would have been his second stop even if Archibald hadn’t told him he’d find Milton here.

  The bell above the door tinkled like crystal breaking as he stepped inside and shut it again behind him. Milton was sitting by himself at a table in the far corner, the newspaper up in front of his face as if he hoped nobody would recognize him. It was his way of shutting the world out – at least for a little while. And given the demands the world of Talon Peaks placed on him, Ernest couldn’t begrudge him the time.

  Except in this case – it was important.

  Taking his hat off, he crossed the restaurant and dropped into the chair opposite Milton but said nothing. He sat there for a good couple of minutes before he heard the exasperated sigh coming from behind the screen of the newspaper.

  “I don’t s’pose if I keep ignoring you that you’re just gonna go away?” Milton asked, still not lowering his paper.

  “Don’t s’pose I will.”

  The owner-operator of The Delta was named Kate and she bustled over to the table and looked down at him. She was a handsome woman in her middle years with a streak of gray in her long black hair, a little extra around the mid-section, full, round breasts, and an infectious smile.

  “As I live and breathe, it’s Ernest Wallace,” she said. “You come in so infrequently, most of the people in town think you’re just a scary story kids tell around the campfire.”

  He laughed as he shook his head. “Flesh and blood like everybody else, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh you’re definitely not like everybody else, sugar,” she tipped his a wink. “What can I get for ya this mornin’?”

  “Just coffee. Black,” he replied. “Thank you, Kate.”

  “Anything for you, honey.”

  Kate bustled off and came back a moment later with a large mug of piping hot coffee. He raised the mug and took a sip of the dark, rich brew as he stared at the newspaper Milton was still holding up between them. After a couple of minutes, he sighed again, louder this time. He snapped his paper and quickly folded it, dropping it onto the table beside him. Milton stuffed a bite of his eggs and sausage into his mouth, chewing at Ernest with extreme irritation painted upon his face.

  “I wouldn’t interrupt your breakfast if it wasn’t important,” Ernest said.

  “Yes you would.”

  A slight
grin quirked Ernest’s mouth. “Well, in this case it actually happens to be important.”

  Milton was a master of the irritated facial expression and he turned it onto Ernest. He even chewed his breakfast angrily, working his jaw up and down so hard, Ernest was pretty certain he could gnaw through a thick log. Milton washed his mouthful of food down with some coffee and then set his mug down on the table with a sharp bang.

  “Then what is it?” Milton asked sharply. “What’s so important that you felt the need to interrupt the one time of day when I can be alone and not have people pulling me in a thousand different directions?”

  Knowing he was treading on thin ice, Ernest knew he needed to get to the point or risk upsetting Milton to the point that he’d dismiss him without even hearing him out.

  “I rode out to Richard’s ranch last night,” he said. “Had a talk with –”

  “You did what?” Milton snapped. “After what happened the last time you spoke with him, I told you to stay away.”

  “Couldn’t do it. Too many unanswered questions in my head.”

  “Right. In your head,” Milton fired back. “I swear to God, half the time I have no idea what is actually going on in that head of yours. I mean, you basically accused the man of kidnappin’ his fiancée, Ernest.”

  “I never said that,” Ernest argued. “I just happen to think he knows a lot more than he’s tellin’ us.”

  “Oh? Like what?”

  Ernest let out a deep breath, trying to keep himself calm. He was a man who didn’t get upset a lot – he wasn’t one of the types who walked around with a chip on his shoulder, just lookin’ for a reason to pull his iron and shoot somebody down. But when he did finally reach the point where he let it out, his temper could be downright explosive.

  But he was doing his best to hold it in check. He was upset yes, but not at Milton. And the last thing he wanted to do was lash out at his best – and maybe only – friend. Still though, he needed to find a way to make Milton see reason. Or at least see things through a lens that was a bit more skeptical when it came to Richard Arnolds – being wealthier than God Almighty didn’t mean you were exempt from committing crimes.

  “Well how about for starters, the day we were out there searchin’ his land, that telegram he received was from the one who abducted Adeline,” Ernest pushed. “Demandin’ a ransom for her safe return.”

  Ernest could see the news hit Milton like a punch to the gut. He could see plainly that the Sheriff didn’t have that bit of information before. But he quickly recovered and smoothed out his expression, putting on that mask of cool indifference he typically wore.

  “Well that’s his business then,” Milton said. “Ain’tnothin’ in the law that says a man can’t pay a ransom for the safe return of his fiancée.”

  “Yeah, if you believe that story.”

  “I take it you don’t?”

  Ernest shrugged as he took another long swallow of his coffee, his mind whirling. He still hadn’t been able to put a name to the reason for his distrust and unease about Richard and the way he was handling the entire situation. But it remained a feeling that nagged him, burrowing into the back of his mind like a termite into wood or something.

  “Why wouldn’t he have just told you that the night we were out at his place?” I argue. “Why keep that a secret?”

  Milton chuckled to himself. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about rich people – specifically rich people around here – it’s that they often don’t have a reason for what they do,” he said. “And when it comes to keeping secrets, not even a Comanche war party would be able to drag outta them what they don’t want to tell.”

  “I’m telling you, Milton,” Ernest pressed. “There’s more to the story. There’s something going on here.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know for sure,” Ernest shook his head and grudgingly admitted. “But Richard is up to something. I’m sure of it.”

  Milton leaned forward and stared Ernest in the eye. The expression of consternation and upset that had been etched into his features a moment ago faded and he looked at Ernest with as much kindness as he could muster.

  “Listen, I know you have feelings for Adeline. I know you care for her,” he said. “But hear me when I say that she’s not your concern. She’s not your woman, Ernest.”

  “I know that, Milton.”

  “Do you? I mean, do you really understand that?”

  Ernest frowned and took another pull of his coffee, which suddenly tasted bitter and sour in his mouth. He knew what Milton was getting at and yes, he did understand what his friend was telling him. He didn’t like it, but he understood it.

  “Tanglin’ with Richard over this – over a woman who ain’t never gonna be yours is just plum foolish, Ernest,” Milton said, not unkindly. “And I don’t want to see you get mixed up in any trouble with him. And I especially don’t want to see you end up gettin’ hurt – or worse. You know men lose their damn minds when it comes to their women.”

  “She’s not his woman, Milton,” Ernest said. “She don’t want to be his woman.”

  “Well, she sure ain’t gonna be yours either,” he pressed. “I’m tellin’ you this as your friend, Ernest – I think you need to let this go. I think you need to let her go.”

  Ernest sighed, feeling the cold sting of reality Milton had just slapped him with. He didn’t like it – not one small bit. But somewhere in the back of his head, the rational part of his mind told him what his friend was telling him was true. It was right. But he still couldn’t bring himself to let it all go – to let her go. Not just yet.

  “Look, I hear you, Milt. I really do,” he said. “But I ain’t gonna be able to sleep at night until I know she’s back home safe. At this point, that’s the only comfort I’m gonna find. I need to make sure she’s okay and is safe.”

  Ernest leaned back in his seat and stared down into his coffee mug as Milton studied him from across the table. Finally, his old friend let out a breath and nodded.

  “Okay, do you have a plan?” he asked.

  “I got an idea,” Ernest replied.

  “Great,” the Sheriff chuckled.

  “What do we do first?”

  Ernest looked up at him, heartened by the fact that his friend was going to help him. Or at the very least, wasn’t going to stop him. Ernest knew how crazy and reckless this was. Knew that this might forever strain relations between him and Richard. But he also knew that Adeline was worth it. He was willing to burn down every relationship he’d built with the people in Talon Peaks for her.

  And he’d do it happily because she was worth it. She was worth everything to him.

  Even if she’d never truly be his.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Well this should go well,” Milton remarked. “Especially after the smashing success of our last little get together with him.”

  Ernest chuckled softly. He knew Milton had a pile of misgivings about going back to talk to Richard again. He was very touchy when it came to poking the hornet’s nest that was the wealthy, de facto ruling class in Talon Peaks. And given that Milton’s job depended upon the rich folks who controlled the town’s purse strings, he could understand that – and was grateful he didn’t have that particular millstone around his neck.

  But Ernest also knew Talon Peaks’ ruling class would much prefer a safe town where young women not only didn’t go missing, but if they did, they had a proactive Sheriff who did everything in his power to bring her home because one day, it could be one of their kids.

  “Don’t worry Milton, I’ll take the heat,” Ernest assured him.

  “Damn straight you will. I sure as hell ain’t gonna take it when this all goes sideways on you,” he grinned.

  “You really think Richard’s hands are clean?”

  A rueful expression touched Milton’s lips. “I ain’t naïve enough to think we all don’t have a little blood on our hands. And I tend to believe the more wealth you got, the more blood�
��s probably on your hands,” he said, his expression thoughtful. “But in this? I don’t know, Ernest. I think your feelings for Adeline are clouding everything – including your judgment.”

  “That could very well be true,” Ernest admitted. “But until I know for sure, I ain’t gonna feel right if I don’t do something.”

  Milton nodded. “I get it. I understand,” he said. “But you need to be prepared to accept the consequences if you’re wrong. And to also accept the fact that Adeline is never gonna be yours.”

  “I am.”

  Milton looked at him for a long moment, pursing his lips, the expression on his face one of thoughtful concentration. Ernest saw the wheels in the man’s head spinning and figured he was trying to work up a way to tell him what a fool he was being without sounding cruel. But when he spoke, his words surprised Ernest.