The Redemption 0f A Hunted Bride (Historical Western Romance)

by Clarice Mayfield

  “Ba-ba-bandits?” The man squawked again. Hope got annoyed rather quickly with his ability to only parrot certain words. It was adding to her overall uneasiness, and she definitely did not need that at the moment.

  “Welcome to the Wild West,” Mrs. Pharis replied with a smile.

  The carriage started to speed up while they pleasantly chatted.

  “Here we go. Brace yourself,” she added.

  “Brace ourselves? For what? How?” The man complained.

  At that point, gunshots could be heard. First from afar, but they were getting louder. In return, shots were fired from the coach. The stage wagon had an armed guard that rode alongside the coachman. He was probably the one firing, Hope deduced. When she first got in the coach, Hope deemed the guard's presence to be a bit excessive.

  Not anymore. Hope was more than glad they had someone armed with them once the bandits started to chase them. They wouldn't have a chance without him. Do we have a chance with him? She had to wonder. The potential answer made her shudder.

  More shots blasted, and that made everyone inside fearful. Apart from Mrs. Pharis, who looked the same. The old man beside Hope was sleeping. How can he sleep at a time like this? The fleeting thought crossed her mind. It was replaced with far more pressing ones, like how to survive, as more bullets flew through the air.

  The coach really started to shake then, as the coachman forced the horses to run to their limit. They were moving at an alarming speed and the mother to Hope's left started to pray, loudly.

  In those moments, for Hope, things slowed down and sped up at the same time.

  We're all going to die, came a sudden realization. Hope rebelled instantly.

  No. We are not. She did not know how but she was going to survive this.

  Mrs. Pharis surprised them all by producing a pistol of her own from her bag. That perked up Hope a bit, thinking how their chances increased immensely.

  Mrs. Pharis started shooting through the lowered window at the approaching bandits and Hope helped by reloading her guns. That was one of the talents she possessed, thanks to her father. To say she was grateful for his dedication to make her stand out with unusual talents would be an understatement. Who knew, he may have saved her life.

  The coach really started to shake as if someone jumped on top. “They are upon us,” the gentleman screamed. “They will kill us all.”

  Mrs. Pharis continued to shoot.

  They could hear some kind of skirmish occurring in the front of the coach and Mrs. Pharis leaned through the window for a better aim.

  All the while, Hope doubted their chances of surviving. She cursed the fates for their cruelty. She did not travel all this way simply to end up like this. Dead in a desert. I don't think so. I will not die like this, she screamed to herself stubbornly. Not after everything I've been through. There was so much she wanted to experience before her final days.

  She looked about for some kind of a weapon. If Hope had to fight to survive she was going to do that with all her might.

  “Got him,” Mrs. Pharis cheered, returning inside. She continued to fire, even though it looked like the danger passed. “Yes, you better run,” she shouted.

  Miraculously, they won and survived to tell the tale, which the banker did, repeatedly. None of them got hurt and that was the most important thing. The mother praised God and Hope had to join in.

  The journey resumed as though nothing happened. If anyone had told Hope that she would be chased by a group of bandits in the Wild West a mere six months ago she would have burst out laughing. And called that person insane. Yet here she was. Thanks to the unwanted engagement, everything changed.

  Maybe I should be grateful to Father after all.

  If he had not tried to force her to do something she did not want to, she would never discover how strong, versatile, and adaptable to change, she really was. He did make sure her future was set, simply not in the way she wanted. That was Hope's job and she was going to do it properly.

  The coachman told them they would be arriving at Rippingate in less than two hours, and despite all the excitement, Hope actually dozed off only to be woken up by the announcement that they arrived. Almost everybody inside the coach was relieved. Mrs. Pharis never lost her high spirit, to begin with, and the old man who was soundly asleep through the entire journey woke eventually, grumbling how he did not catch a wink of sleep from all the rocking; which Hope found hilarious.

  I can't believe I am finally here, Hope thought sleepily as she left the stage wagon. She stretched immediately, feeling relief when most of her joints started cracking, returning to their rightful positions. Hope was not going to miss all the rocking and sitting, that was for sure. While she did her gymnastics, she looked around, taking in the scenery. This was her new home.

  Hope did not know what she expected exactly, but this was not it. She was not disappointed, simply overwhelmed by the strangeness of it.

  Their coach stopped next to a structure, a building that was in the process of being built. By the looks of it, it was going to be the future train station for the town of Rippingate since they did not have a railroad yet. A massive board nearby confirmed as much. On it, the fine print announced that the town would get its own railroad and the station in three years’ time.

  Well, good for them.

  “Hope, dear?” Mrs. Pharis snapped Hope from her reverie. Hope turned to face the other woman.

  “Yes, Mrs. Pharis?”

  “Once you settle down, do come and visit me,” she instructed. “I live in the yellow house just around the corner from the church. You can't miss it.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Pharis,” Hope was genuinely touched by the invitation. During the ride, they did not talk much, and Hope certainly did not share any of her circumstances or why she was in Rippingate, however they bonded during that whole incident with the bandits. Hope realized she liked the other woman and not simply because she knew how to shoot.

  Mrs. Pharis was a force of nature with a great sense of humor and Hope really wished to get to know her better. Hope was certain Mrs. Pharis had a lot of stories to share that would be rather amusing to hear. And if she was to stay in this town, she needed more than Mr. Dalbow and Jessamine in her life.

  The passengers said their goodbyes to one another, going their separate ways. The banker hurried away first without uttering a word to anyone, probably because he was too embarrassed. He had made such a spectacle of himself during the danger.

  All right, where to now?

  She started looking about. Hope did not want to ask a random person about the Reynolds family or about Mr. Dalbow, for that matter, so she decided to find the Sheriff. He was bound to help her accurately and most importantly, with discretion.

  Hope could have asked Mrs. Pharis but refrained from it. Despite Hope's fondness toward the other woman, she still did not know much about the old widow so speaking only to the Sheriff was a much safer option. I guess the Sheriff's office is someplace that could be easily reached, like the Main Street. So she asked the coachman if he could show her where that was.

  “The Main Street is just down this road, Miss,” he explained while pointing.

  “Thank you, kindly,” she replied, collecting her bag. Hope started walking toward the town's center.

  The Main Street was nothing more than a wide dirt road, used by both pedestrians and riders. It was a chaos of movement yet nobody seemed to mind. On each side of the road were one-storey-high buildings occupied by retail stores, saloons, offices and so on. To say Rippingate looked different from her home town would be an understatement. Hope felt it was like stepping into another world entirely. She took that as a good sign since she abandoned her own world and didn't like it very much.

  Hope did not manage to take twenty steps when a boy ran into her, full force. It knocked all the breath out of her lungs, not to mention the bag out of her hand, and parasol as well.

  “Hey,” she protested. Luckily, she did not fall.

 
I will have a nasty bruise nevertheless.

  “Sorry, Miss,” he tried to pick up her bag. Hope was faster.

  “Watch where you're going,” she snapped, a bit angry.

  The boy actually stuck his tongue at her before running away. “Why, you little...”

  She stopped herself, having a little flashback of her own experiences. She too ran into someone at the train station back home, so she decided to let this lad go despite his rudeness. She resumed with her search, hoping she could easily spot what she was looking for.

  Walking about, she was instantly enchanted by the smell of freshly baked bread, and her stomach growled in return, reminding her it was quite a while since she ate something.

  Naturally, Hope changed course.

  I will eat first, then find the Sheriff.

  Finding the bakery took no effort, she could see the store from her location, besides, her nose could guide her to it easily, even with her eyes closed.

  Once she reached for her small pouch that held her spending money that was tied around her waist, to pay for the loaf of bread, Hope discovered it was gone.

  Did I lose it? Where? How? Her mind started to work on the problem. Instantly, Hope made the connection.

  Why, that little rascal, she fumed.

  That boy who almost knocked her over robbed her. Hope could not believe it. She successfully ran away from home, got soaking wet numerous times while waiting on her layovers without getting a cold, survived the bandits, only to be robbed by a boy once she finally reached Rippingate.

  Oh, the irony…

  “Welcome to Rippingate,” she muttered to herself, paying for her meal. Luckily, she had more money hidden in numerous places since she was afraid something like this could have occurred.

  It was fortunate she was already going to the Sheriff's Office, she contemplated, eating her bread with appetite.

  Yes, I do feel rather fortunate...

  7

  “Hold still,” June warned, emphasizing her words by pulling at his hair and Owen scowled in return.

  “Can you hurry up?” he grumbled, not saying what was actually on his mind, that he was an idiot for letting his sister cut his hair.

  The way she’s going at it, she will leave me completely bald. The notion made him shudder.

  “Do you want to look like a fool?” She challenged. “Because that is exactly how you’ll look if you continue to rush me.” She waved with the sharp scissors in front of his face.

  “I did not want a haircut in the first place,” Owen reminded her. His colleagues did tease him about the state of his hair a little, but he did not care about that.

  “You looked like a wildling and I am just giving you a little trim.”

  It doesn’t feel like a little trim.

  He kept his mouth shut. From experience, he knew sometimes that was the best thing he could do.

  “Besides, I am doing you a favor,” June continued as she hacked, and ruined his perfectly grown hair. “People started to run away from you, scared.”

  Owen chuckled. “Perhaps that is a good thing. Maybe that would make them all think twice before committing a crime,” he joked.

  Owen was the local Sheriff in Rippingate, for a couple of years now. The crime rate was high so he could use any advantage he had at his disposal.

  “Oh, be serious,” June scolded.

  “Oh, I am,” he replied immediately. “Ouch,” he complained when she nicked him a little.

  “Owen, don’t be such a crybaby.”

  "Please do not cut too much," Owen said. He would never admit something like this out loud but he liked his hair the way it was. Most of his deputies preferred to have really short hair, but not him.

  “You complain like an old woman,” June jibed.

  “And you look like one swinging those scissors. It’s actually pretty scary,” he faked fear.

  “Shush,” June had enough of him.

  He glared at her in his Sheriff Rundell way. Criminals were known to actually run scared when he looked at them like this. Unfortunately, the stare had no effect on his baby sister. It never did. He sighed, defeated, praying this torment wouldn’t last forever.

  “And I said hold still,” she ordered.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  June was his younger sister, however that never stopped her from bossing him around. Come to think of it, she was the only one that could. Lucky for me. His authority would seriously be compromised if word got out he had a soft heart.

  I would at least have my gun, he mused.

  June pulled at him again, and he felt the scissors brushing against his left ear.

  “Come on June, could you please leave my ears alone? I kind of need them and do not want them clipped as well, thank you very much,” Owen ranted and June rolled her eyes at him.

  “I think that star of yours really got into your head, Sheriff, you complain way too much.”

  “True,” Owen deadpanned. He loved being the Sheriff, there was no denying that. “That is why they hired me.”

  They both started to laugh.

  Owen was a deputy for many years before he got the opportunity to actually be the Sheriff. He got installed in a town called Rippingate for one purpose only. To reduce the crime rate. On one hand, Owen was more than pleased he was the town’s Sheriff. That was his longstanding dream.

  On the other, the only reason he got transferred from his previous post was that the crime rate in Rippingate had risen dramatically over the last couple of years, and he was here to provide immediate assistance. He could not be happy about that since he swore an oath to serve and protect the townspeople whose safety was now compromised.

  Many speculated why things turned for the worse, transforming Rippingate from a pleasant little town to live in, into something different. It remained pleasant, with a bunch of good people living in it. It was just that now there were a lot of bad seeds mixed with the good.

  Owen had his own theory on why this was occurring. A lot of new settlers from the East came to these parts following the gold rush and promises of a better life. Unfortunately, lawless men followed as well. And they threatened to disturb the townspeople’s simple and peaceful way of life. So now it was up to Owen and his deputies to make things right again.

  Things are looking up, though, he reminded himself. It was true. Ever since he came crime started to decline. Not by much, yet it was a start.

  “All done,” June announced cheerfully, marveling over his hair as though it was a true masterpiece. Owen did not bother to look, though. He rose from the chair and gave his sister a kiss on the cheek.

  “Thank you, sis.”

  “You have not even seen it yet,” June replied with amusement.

  “I better not,” he said with a wink.

  “Why not?” She asked, still holding the scissors. Now they looked like a weapon in her small hand. Owen replied anyway.

  “You do not want to see a grown man cry, do you?” He delivered his line completely serious.

  June swatted at him, with her free hand. He managed to jump out of the way in time.

  “You scoundrel,” she started chasing him about, as she used to when they were children. He chuckled, pleased he managed to ruffle her feathers.

  Before he could seriously hurt her feelings, he stopped in front of a mirror. June actually did a very good job, he was relieved to see.

  “June, it’s great,” he complimented her and she instantly beamed, forgetting she was supposed to be mad at him.

  “All the gals in town will instantly fall in love with me when they see me like this,” he added, running a hand through his hair. It remained on the long side, a bit past his ears, however now it looked as though that was a choice, not simply lack of a decent barber. Owen looked cleaner and he liked it. June was right, he simply wasn’t going to share that piece of information with her.

  I would never hear the end of it if I do.

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” June started to reply. There was
a certain glint in her eyes so Owen knew she was about to tease him some more. Sometimes she is just too predictable. “You are stuck with the same face.”

  Owen instantly grabbed his chest over his heart as though she just shot him. “You wounded me deeply, sister,” he fell unto his knees, exaggerating. And June laughed wholeheartedly.

  “You will recover fairly quickly, with one of those gals.”

  “No, never.” Owen had to laugh then as well. He adored his sister, and not just because she was the only kin he had. June was his best friend in the entire world.