And she fervently hoped that James had not lied to her as she had to him.
That would be a crushing shock! Oh, Lord, I pray that Mr. McCloud has been more of an honorable man in his letter than I have been an honorable woman in mine! I hope that he is a real cowboy, not just wearing the clothes of one like I’m wearing the dress of a seamstress.
“We’re coming into Sonora now, miss,” the driver called, startling her out of the prayers and confessions. Georgia slid over on the seat and gripped the window frame tightly for balance as the town came into view.
It looked like an absolutely gorgeous location. Groves of trees stood among rolling hills, interspersed with savannas covered in rich grasses. She thought it must be perfect for raising livestock and could see cows and sheep grazing out on the range. The town itself was not large but looked prosperous and growing. There was about an equal number of wood houses and wood-frame tents, plus a couple of stores, a saloon, hotel, and a livery stable.
The stagecoach clattered through the dirt streets and came to a stop in front of the post office in a cloud of dust. Spitting an arc of tobacco juice to mark the end of the journey, the driver climbed down from his seat and opened the door of the coach. “Welcome to Sonora,” he said gruffly, extending a weathered hand to help Georgia step down.
“Thank you,” Georgia said, alighting onto the street. The driver nodded and then busied himself untying the baggage lashed in the boot at the rear of the coach. She took a deep breath of Sonora air. It seemed incredibly fresh after a day of dusty stage travel. Looking around her, there was no one to be seen in the post office. In fact, even though it was mid-afternoon and it should have been a busy time, there was no one in the street either. No wagons or pedestrians. Nothing.
“Is this town always this quiet?” Georgia asked the driver.
“It sure ain’t. Seems mighty strange.” He walked into the post office and rang the bell on the counter. More silence. “Tony?!” he shouted. “You there?”
The sound of boots scuffing on the floor announced the arrival of a man in the doorway behind the counter. He was short, stocky, and clean shaven, wearing a white linen shirt with a clerk’s bow tie. “Sam! Sure glad to see you.”
“What the blazes is going on around here?” Sam the driver asked.
“Sorry. I had to be sure it weren’t anybody from that damn gang of desperadoes yesterday.”
They both turned as Georgia walked into the office. She stepped up to them and stood beside Sam. “What ‘damn’ gang was that, sir?”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am,” Tony said, embarrassed at being overheard cussing by a lady. “The whole town is kind of spooked after what happened. Everybody’s kinda lyin’ low. A gang of several men stormed in on their horses yesterday afternoon, faces covered. Nobody knew what the...what they wanted. They were just shooting in the air, acting crazy. A Comanche that was with ‘em jumped down off his horse, put a dart into a blow gun and shot it into David McCloud. Knocked him flat out on the ground. Then they threw him over his horse and ran out of town hollerin’ like the devil.”
When Georgia heard that James’s brother had been abducted a chill came over her. “Is that Sheriff McCloud’s brother they took, Mr. Clerk?”
“Tony. Please call me Tony, ma’am. Yes, ma’am, that’s the one. Old David is the gentlest feller you ever met. Why they would take him of all people, nobody knows. Unless, maybe it’s to get at the sheriff. Like I said, it’s got us all on edge.”
“Is the sheriff okay?” Georgia asked.
“Yes, ma’am. He organized a search party right away but they haven’t found his brother yet. Can I get your baggage for you?”
“No. Thank you, Tony. Sam unloaded it outside and I will be waiting for the sheriff here. Is it all right if I take a seat out front until he arrives?
“Of course. If you need anything just holler. I’ll be...”
“Hidin’ in the back?” Sam broke in with a grin and wink.
Tony looked embarrassed again.
Georgia turned and went back out into the street. She saw a small bench set against the building in the shade. Picking up her baggage, she brought it over and took a seat, watching as Sam unloaded the mail bags from the coach and delivered them into the office.
Then he came over to where she was sitting, stood in front of her and removed his hat. “Would you like me to wait with you until the sheriff gets here? After what’s happened it might not be safe for a woman out here in the street.”
“No. I’ll be fine, Sam. Thank you for bringing me to Sonora.”
“Sorry for cussin’ up a storm back there on the trail, ma’am. My old bones been bouncin’ along these roads so long...” Sam paused. “Reckon a man just forgets any manners he ever had.”
“We all fall short, Sam. It’s okay. I surely do forgive you.”
“Yes, ma’am. And thank you. The name’s Sam Kimball. I’ll be seeing you. Got to get to the livery now for some fresh horses.” He walked back to the coach, climbed slowly into the seat, and with a flick of the reins was off again.
When the clatter of the stagecoach had died away in the distance a profound quiet descended on the town again. The occasional bark of a dog, creak of a board, and a puff of wind rustling the leaves of a tree across the street were the only sounds.
As Georgia waited, she got up once or twice to stretch her legs. A peek into the window of the post office showed that Tony had resumed “hiding in the back,” as Sam had said. So much for the brave and rugged men of the West, Georgia thought. But maybe Tony usually spent most of his time back there. It didn’t matter. Somehow she felt safe sitting there alone. And the small derringer pistol William had persuaded her to hide in her petticoats didn’t hurt either. She took another deep breath of Sonora air and put her feet up on the baggage.
After a slow hour passed, Georgia began to wonder if her cowboy-sheriff had forgotten about her. Was he scared away like Tony? No. A county sheriff wouldn’t frighten that easily. And he has important business to attend to – like rescuing his brother from an armed gang of desperadoes. My goodness, they don’t call it the Wild West for nothing. This situation is like something you might find in a dime store novel. Yet here I am in Texas in 1890 and it is real...so very real...
The sound of hoof beats on the earth brought her awake with a start. She had fallen asleep. Georgia jumped to her feet, reaching down quickly under her skirt into the petticoats, looking for the derringer. She didn’t want to get caught unarmed if it was the outlaws coming back. My pistol isn’t there! Did it fall out in the stage? She fumbled deeper into the undergarments, grabbing wildly. It’s got to be in here somewhere.
A man on a horse trotted around the corner. He saw her grabbing crazily under her dress and stopped his animal in the middle of the street. Georgia froze and looked up at him.
“Uh...ma’am? You all right there?” the man said.
“Yes! Yes, of course,” she blushed, removing her hands slowly from underneath the skirts. She raised them both into the air above her head. “I’m not armed.”
The man began to laugh; quietly at first, then building up into a deep belly laugh that made his horse’s ears twist and turn like they were looking around for the joke. When Georgia noticed the man’s sheriff badge pinned to his leather vest she couldn’t help it: she began to giggle too. Soon, they were both laughing so hard that Tony came out of hiding to see what the commotion was about. He stood in the doorway of his office scratching his head. “What in the blue blazes?” he whispered.
“Oh, boy!” James guffawed, bent over in the saddle, slapping his Stetson on his knee. “I can’t breathe no more.”
Georgia continued laughing with high-pitched mirth, releasing all the stress of her long journey.
“What in blazes is happening out here?!” Tony asked from the doorway. A small child poked its head out behind his legs, sucking on a thumb
“Tony,” James announced, catching his breath at last, “Meet Ms. Georgia Warton of Ma
ssachusetts.”
“Yes, we met earlier, Sheriff. Welcome to Sonora, Miss Warton,” Tony said, coming out of the doorway to take her hand.
“Much obliged for the belly laugh, Ms. Warton,” James smiled, “it’s been a very tough couple of days here, as Tony probably told you. Sure felt good to let off some steam though.”
“No problem, Sheriff,” she grinned, “I can’t say it was exactly my pleasure how we met...but glad to be of service nonetheless.” James chuckled at her wit. Tony looked puzzled. “You see I got very frightened, Tony,” Georgia said, “I thought maybe it was one of those outlaws that you told me about coming. So there I was digging like crazy through my petticoat trying to find the muff pistol stashed there and the sheriff came galloping around the corner...”
“And froze in my tracks,” James said, chuckling. “Never seen anything like it in all my years as a lawman.”
“I think I like this lady, Sheriff,” Tony said, grinning at her, “she’s funny!”
“Thank you, Tony,” Georgia said, bowing theatrically toward him.
“Well sir, I’ve got work to do,” James said to Tony. “We still haven’t found David. I’m gonna bring the lady out to the ranch for safekeeping with Aunt Martha. We’ll send one of the boys over to pick up her luggage later, Tony. Will you keep an eye on it until then?”
He nodded. “No problem, Sheriff.”
Still sitting on his horse, James held out a hand toward the new arrival. “Sorry I didn’t have time to bring another mount for you today, Ms. Warton. Would you ride with me to the Golden Lane?”
“I would be delighted, Sheriff,” she said brightly, “and please, call me Georgia.” She walked over to his horse and reached up both arms toward him. “I’m not armed.”
James laughed and picked her up, placing Georgia in front of him. “Call me James,” he said gently. Then he nudged the horse with his heel and they started forward together.
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Thank you very much!
Also by Clarice Mayfield
Thank you for reading The Redemption of a Hunted Bride!
I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading it, as much as I enjoyed writing it! ♥
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Some other best sellers of mine:
Caught Between Love and Duty
The Cowboy’s Quest for Love
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Clarice
About the Author
When Clarice Mayfield graduated from high school, she immediately embarked on a journey to explore the American Southwest. Travelling mainly by bus and train, she’d spend most of her time gazing outside windows, imprinting images of the great outdoors into her mind. That’s when she knew she was in love with the South and its vast deserts.
With a B.A. in philosophy and English, she started her career writing articles in her university’s newspaper. Her guilty pleasure? Coming up with short romance stories, dreaming to one day become a published author. Since then, she has been writing non-stop, combining her two great pleasures: a good love story and the American Southwest.
Her goal? To encourage her readers to dive deep into a world where the dust is red, the sound of galloping horses echoes across the plains, and love blooms, rare and wild, like a desert flower!
The Redemption 0f A Hunted Bride (Historical Western Romance) Page 30