The Cowboy's Stolen Bride (Historical Western Romance)

by Cassidy Hanton

  “My thinking is fine. My head is clear,” she growled. “I know all about you and the Wild Hog. I know everything, Richard.”

  She saw the light of disappointment in his eyes and he looked genuinely hurt. He looked at her as if she was simply misunderstanding him.

  “I don’t know what you think you know. But anything I may have done, I did on your behalf. I did it for you,” he said. “Yes, I worked out a deal with Mr. Ford for your safe return. That is true. We came to a mutually beneficial relationship. But anything else you may be thinking is wrong, Adeline. I don’t know anything about the Wild Hog or –”

  “Stop lying,” she cried. “Just stop lying to me.”

  “Adeline, I’m not lying to you,” he said. “I love you. I only want us to be happy together and I’m telling you that you are misunderstanding everything I’ve done. It’s nowhere near as bad as you think it is.”

  No, if you’re working with Shotgun Ford and his brother, the Wild Hog, it’s infinitely worse than I thought it was.

  His grip on her upper arms tightened to the point that it was painful and she had to keep herself from crying out in pain. As she stared into his eyes, she saw the hurt and disappointment fade, only to be replaced by a fervent, nearly maniacal light.

  She saw just how important it was to Richard that she not just believe him but appreciate the efforts he took on her behalf – and return the love he said he felt for her. She knew she had to play into his game and get him to relax, if only a little.

  He was crazed and unbalanced and as badly as it terrified her, it also told Adeline exactly what she had to do.

  “Y – you did all of this for me?” she asked quietly, trying to buy into his delusion.

  He nodded eagerly. “Yes. I’ve done all of this for you because I love you,” he said. “And I’d do even more for you.”

  She cleared her throat and did her best to maintain eye contact with him. It was hard though given just how terrified she was and how repulsed she was by him. It was difficult for her to play along but if she had any hope of getting away from him, she was going to have to do just that.

  “I’ve never had somebody go to such great lengths for me,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I guess you really do care for me.”

  “I do,” he said. “Very much so.”

  His grip on her arms loosened for just a moment but she was ready for it and pounced. Adeline drove her knee upward with as much force as she could muster and connected with Richard’s groin – hard. He let out a loud “oomph” sound and doubled over, his hands clutching his injured private parts. He opened his mouth but all that came out was a thick croaking noise. She heard Horace howling with laughter and when she cut a quick glance at him, he too was doubled over, but he was laughing hysterically and slapping his knee.

  Adeline wrenched herself free from his grasp and backed away. She looked around quickly, searching for some avenue of escape. She knew she only had moments before Richard recovered and that she’d never make it to the forest before either he or Horace ran her down.

  Which left one alternative. Turning, she bolted for the house as fast as her legs would carry her. She bounded up the steps and barged through the front door, slamming it shut behind her. She looked around for something to brace against the door, settling on the three-legged, shattered remains of a small table. She knew it wouldn’t hold the door closed against them – the best she could hope for was that Richard would trip on it as he came through it.

  A high-pitched squeak burst from her throat when she heard heavy pairs of boots on the stairs and Richard’s voice bellowing her name. She turned and dashed up the stairs, hoping she could find someplace to hide or effect an escape from the house.

  She had just reached the landing on the second floor when the sound of gunfire drew her attention. Her heart raced thinking they were firing at her but when she paused and listened, she realized they hadn’t yet come through the front door. And judging by Richard and Horace’s shouts still coming from outside, she thought somebody was shooting at them.

  But who is shooting at them? Who else even knows we’re out here?

  Almost immediately, another wave of fear washed over her, thinking that somebody even worse than Richard and Horace was coming and that it could mean even more terrible things for her if she was discovered.

  Frantically, Adeline searched the second floor for a hiding spot. A place she wouldn’t be found by whoever had arrived as the crackle of gunfire and shouting voices continued outside unabated. Her body was so tight and brittle with tension and she was so scared, she feared she might shatter like delicate glass.

  But then curiosity took over. Her father had always told her she was far too curious for her own good and on some level Adeline knew this was proof he had spoken correctly. Rather than search for a hiding spot where she would not be discovered, her curiosity rose up like an irresistible force. It compelled her to creep through one of the bedrooms with a window that overlooked the yard and the barn below.

  The hardwood floor beneath her creaked and groaned ominously but not even the threat of falling through the floor and probably to her death could dissuade her. She stood to the side of the window and peeked around the corner, hoping to catch a glimpse of who was out there taking shots at Richard and Horace.

  At first she saw nothing but then her eyes grew wide and she had to stifle the scream that was already upon her lips when she saw who had arrived.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Ernest looked up to the sky and frowned. In the distance, clouds darker than midnight gathered and he could tell that it was bringing a storm along with it. He knew that likely shortly after nightfall, the world around them would be gripped by a powerful storm.

  They had ridden most of the day without having found any sign of Richardor the Stocker farmhouse. The problem was that in this corner of Texas, towns and homesteads came and went with the rising and falling of the sun. The passage of the people left a trail of dilapidated buildings and crumbling homes in their wake.

  It was a hard land that could be wild, untamed, and entirely unforgiving. Not everybody had the fortitude to survive in Texas and the winds that blew across the plains often swept out those without the constitution to build a life – or a town – for themselves there.

  It wasn’t surprising to Ernest that Milton had never heard of the Stocker farmhouse. Hell, he hadn’t heard of it either. Ernest assumed it was one of those unfortunate folks who had tried to homestead the land but failed, leaving behind the remnants of their life.

  All that left for Ernest was to follow behind in what he hoped was Richard’s wake. There was a clear line of tracks in the dirt so Ernest was pretty confident they were on the right track but he had no idea where the track ended. Or what they’d find when they got there.

  After another half an hour of riding in silence, Milton let out a long sigh and finally turned in his saddle to look at him.

  “Is it possible that Richard turned off somewhere?” Milton finally asked. “For all we know, he headed south some time back. We’re riding blind here, Ernest.”

  He sighed and took his hat off with one hand then ran his other hand through his hair, damp with sweat. He’d had the same thought a while back but hadn’t wanted to voice his concern because he’d seen nothing that led him to believe Richard had done that. But even he had to admit, with every mile they rode on without the slightest hint of anything, Ernest was growing more and more uncertain. But he couldn’t give up. Not with Adeline still out there.

  “Ernest –”

  “I know Milton,” he said. “I know.”

  “How long are we supposed to continue on?”

  Ernest shook his head. “Listen, I’ll understand if you want to turn back,” he said. “But I’m going to continue on a while.”

  Milton sighed. “This is insanity Ernest. You can ride on forever in this direction and never find her out here.”

  “I have to try.”

  �
��I think we need to go back to Talon Peaks, regroup, and come up with another way to attack this,” Milton said. “There is so much open land out here –”

  It was a sensible idea after Ernest had spent the entire day doing something completely insensible. He was pragmatic enough to admit that. And he had to be honest enough to admit that the hoofprints they were following might not even be Richard’s, despite his insistence that they were.

  “Ernest, we need to turn back,” Milton said.

  “Milton, I can’t –”

  “You can’t do this right if you’re lost out here or dead. Be smart about this,” he cut Ernest off. “The smart play here is that we go back to Talon Peaks and if Richard hasn’t brought Adeline home by the time we get back, we’ll provision up, gather a posse, and go about this the right way instead of just riding out with no direction and no idea where to go.”

  Ernest sighed. He knew Milton had a point and that he was acting impulsively. His worry and his love for Adeline was making him act rashly.But still – he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was close. And that she needed his help.

  Ernest scanned the land around them, desperately searching for some sign, for some clue that they were on the right path. But the emptiness and desolation of the land around them seemed to mock him.

  “Okay, let’s just crest that next rise and if there’s nothing there, we’ll head back home and regroup,” Ernest said.

  Milton nods. “We can do that.”

  They rode on in silence, the land dipping beneath them before rising to a small, gently rolling hill. And when they reached the top of the hill, Ernest reined his horse to a sudden stop.

  “Hold up, hold up,” he said.

  Milton reined to a stop beside him as Ernest dug a pair of field glasses out of his saddlebag. He held them up to his eyes and looked at the dilapidated old farm house in the shallow valley below them.

  The Stocker farmhouse. It had to be.

  “What is it?” Milton asked.

  A flash of excitement tinged with fear shot through Ernest as he spotted Richard. He had hold of Adeline’s upper arms and was talking to her. Also in the yard was Shotgun Ford. He was packing his own saddlebags and appeared to be getting set to leave.

  “It’s Adeline,” Ernest said. “She’s alive. Richard’s with her and Shotgun Ford is down there too.”

  “Damn,” Milton swore. “You were right all along, Ernest.”

  “We’ll worry about recriminations later,” he said. “Right now, we need to get down there and save her.”

  Ernest watched as Adeline drove her knee into Richard’s groin, doubling him over. Even from where they were, they could hear the gruff guffawing of Ford’s laughter. Adeline sprinted up the stairs and into the house as Richard tried to regain his breath.

  “We need to get down there,” Ernest said. “You take Ford. He’s packing up and fixin’ to head out. I got Richard.”

  “Ernest, don’t you go doin’ anything stupid –”

  Ernest didn’t wait for his friend to finish that statement. Instead, he spurred his horse to a gallop, dashing down the small rise and into the bowl of the shallow valley, heading straight for the farm house like a bullet. He cut a glance behind him and saw Milton hot on his heels, angling to intercept Ford before he could get away.

  He was still fifty or sixty yards from the farmhouse as Richard mounted the steps, ready to go in after Adeline. He pulled his sidearm from his holster, aimed as best he could, and squeezed off a shot. The bullet tore through the bannister next to Richard, making him jump backward with a stunned look of amazement on his face.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Ford mount his horse and take off at a fast gallop. Milton was closing in on him though and had his rifle out, taking aim at the escaped outlaw. He knew Milton could take care of himself – even matched up against a killer like Ford – so he stuffed his worry for his friend down inside for the moment.

  As his horse thundered across the yard, Ernest slowed down and jumped out of his saddle, landing awkwardly but managing to keep his feet. His horse danced away and headed for the barn as Ernest ducked behind the wagon that stood in the center of the yard – just in time, as it turned out a chunk of the wooden sideboard exploded and splintered with the return shot from Richard.

  Ernest stood and squeezed off a pair of shots that sent Richard scrambling behind the debris that littered the porch of the old farmhouse.

  “Give it up, Richard,” Ernest called out. “It’s over. Toss your weapons down and walk toward me with your hands raised.”

  The answer he got was two more shots that tore through the wagon. The horses at the hitch danced and whickered in terror as the gunfire erupted. Ernest dashed to the front of the wagon and quickly unhitched the team of two, letting them gallop away – although they dragged the harnesses along with them. He’d worry about fetching them later though.

  His concern for the animals cost him. As he moved to take shelter behind the wagon again, a shot rang out and Ernest felt like he’d been hit in the shoulder with a wooden club. The blow sent him sprawling to the dirt where he landed on his back, his breath whooshing out of his body. He gasped for air as he sat up and felt the warm, viscous blood flowing down arm, spilling onto the hard-packed dirt beneath him.

  He started to get to his feet when Richard stepped around the back end of the wagon, his pistol held at the ready and a cold, cruel grin upon his lips. Ernest looked around for his weapon frantically, only to spot it about five feet away. He must have thrown it when he took the bullet. His arm throbbed painfully, blood seeming to be seeping out of the wound in time with his heartbeat.

  “I have to hand it to you, Ernest. You’re a lot smarter than I gave you credit for. You figured out what I was up to. Well done,” Richard said, “Of course, your dog with a bone determination to put a stop to it was really annoying, if I may be honest.”

  “The only thing I can’t figure out is why,” Ernest replied. “Why would you hire scum like Ford to kidnap Adeline? Why would you pay what I have to imagine is a small fortune in ransom?”

  Richard cocked his head as he regarded him and a look of consternation crossed his face.

  “Really?” Richard asked. “I thought that was the most obvious piece of the puzzle.”

  “Humor me.”

  Richard sighed. “I guess it doesn’t matter since this plan is entirely blown anyway,” he said, sounding regretful. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do now – other than kill you anyway. That’s a given at this point.”

  “Naturally,” Ernest said, trying to buy himself a little time to figure a way out of this. “So why go through all of this? Or more precisely, why put Adeline through this?”

  “To make her love me, of course,” he said. “Imagine it with me – after enduring a kidnapping at the hands of the notorious Shotgun Ford, Adeline sees me swoop in to save the day, killing the outlaw and rescuing her. How could she not love me after that? How could she not want to be with me forever?”

  Ernest stared at him utterly dumbfounded. “You really did all of this to make her love you?”

  Richard stared at him, his eyes narrowing and his jaw clenching. “I had to do something or risk losing her to you,” he said, gesturing with his gun for emphasis. “The only thing that made sense was for me to play the hero.”

  Ernest cut a quick glance around him. His sidearm was too far away to be of any use to him and Milton had not yet returned from his pursuit of Ford. He was on his own with no weapon, staring down a man who was obviously mad. It only left him with one option.

  “Do you really think that would have lasted, Richard?” Ernest asked, stalling the man for a moment. “Do you really think Adeline would have loved you for that? I mean eventually, she would have figured it all out. She’s a smart woman.”

  Richard sighed and dropped the barrel of his gun – it was just an inch, but it was enough. With all the strength he could muster in his good arm, Ernest hurled a handful of dirt into the man’
s face, aiming for his eyes. When the cloud hit Richard in the face, Ernest rolled to the side as a hail of bullets tore into the dirt where he was just a moment before.

  Ernest got to his feet as Richard tried to wipe the dirt from his eyes and clear his vision. He waded in close and with his good arm, delivered a solid shot to the older man’s stomach. He doubled over as the breath was driven from his lungs but he was right back up and threw a wild haymaker that caught Ernest in the shot shoulder. The impact sent an explosion of pain reverberating through his entire body and he howled in agony.

  Ernest threw another punch that connected with Richard’s jaw. The older man’s head snapped back but he managed to squeeze off another shot. The bullet tore through the wagon’s sideboard not three inches from where Ernest stood and he grunted as the ragged chunks of wood splintered out, slicing open his cheek.