“Sir?” She hurried to join him. Though exhausted now that the adrenaline rush had ended, Blossom needed to know for herself. The man turned to her as he opened the door. “Well?” Blossom prodded him. “What happened up there? Were there any survivors?”
He hesitated before nodding. “Yes,” the sheriff told her. “The five men all made it out alive. All except for their leader, the one who was shot. Mostly, there are just a few broken bones. They are being wheeled down the mountain tonight and will stand trial next month for their crimes.”
“What about Chester?” She suddenly glanced back at the closed door, wondering why he was talking with her father. “You’re not putting him in jail, are you?”
Sheriff Johnson shook his head. “He’s an innocent man by all accounts. He only shot because he had to. Two of the other men agreed, so. There's no reason to arrest him.”
He eyed her curiously as her shoulders relaxed. Blossom sighed in relief as a weight lifted off her shoulders. “I guess he’s a fine man,” the sheriff mumbled after a minute. Then he shrugged and left.
She huffed and closed the door after him. “He’s a very fine man.”
“Who is?”
Turning around, Blossom found Chester standing before her. He was tall, broad, and handsome even when he was covered in bandages. There was one over his shoulder, over his head, and over each hand. Her eyes trailed over his figure to see if he was missing anything. But he looked mostly intact.
Then she cleared her throat. “You are.” She forced herself to take a deep breath as she hoped the blush wasn’t as red as it had been when he kissed her. “Sometimes,” she added when she decided she had come off too strong.
His lips quirked up. “Really?” Blossom nodded as he took a forward. Chester’s eyes trailed over her face slowly and carefully. She could practically feel him touching her, trailing his gaze from her forehead down her nose and across her jawline. This left her breathless as she tried to find something to say.
“Fine enough to marry?” He asked her before she could find any words.
Blossom’s eyes widened. “What?”
He hesitated before giving her a hopeful smile. Stepping forward, Chester closed the distance between them as he took her hands in his. “Blossom, you mean more to me than anything in this entire world. I have never wanted to be with anyone more. I just talked with your father, and he gave me his permission. I wouldn’t ask if he didn’t approve because I know how much he means to you.”
“Uh huh,” she managed to squeak.
Chester continued, hardly noticing. “I’m not perfect. I know I have a lot to make up for. I’m sorry for all the wrong things I’ve done and said to you. I thought I was protecting you. But you’ve showed me that you are brave and you’re willing to do what it takes to care of those you love. You’re showing me what it means to really love. And that means a lot to me. It means the world to me, Blossom. You do. Will you marry me?”
She could hardly recount another time where she had been so happy.
A thrill of excitement ran through her body like a warm fire lit on the first evening of winter. Blossom beamed before him, squeezing his hands. She forgot the pain and the hurt. Chester had never wanted her to suffer, after all. He had only wanted her to be happy.
And now, together, they could really be happy.
“Yes!” Blossom cried out. She wrapped her arms around him so they could kiss once again. “Yes, I’ll marry you!”
The End?
Extended Epilogue
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Preview: A Courageous Bride to Bring Him Hope
Prologue
Oxbent, Arizona 1885
Alexander was exhausted when he finally stepped into the small house he shared with his sister Honey. He had been gone for more than three days, riding across the plains to try and find the cave Colt Debbert and his gang of men were using as a hideout.
The journey was long and difficult. He’d slept little and had not eating anything but stale bread, but that feeling of elation when he finally trotted toward the cave’s mouth would be worth it, he knew. Or so he thought.
Because the cave was empty. Empty and with little evidence of the men who were supposed to have inhabited it. Alexander had been forced to ride straight on back home with no victory to speak of. He was tired and angry.
But at least I’ll get to see Honey.
His sister was the light of his life. Though it was only the two of them left in the family, it never felt lonely. Honey could light up any room, make anyone laugh. Alexander couldn’t wait to spend the rest of the night talking to her, listening to her sweet voice tell him stories and jokes that would ease his disappointment.
But when he opened the door, it wasn’t to find Honey sitting in her usual rocking chair with her knitting needles clacking away.
Instead, she was laid out on the floor, a hole in her stomach, her eyes lifeless and hollow.
All at once, Alexander’s world fell apart.
“Honey!” he screamed, collapsing on his knees beside her.
Gathering her in his arms, Alexander couldn’t help the tears that streamed from his eyes as he looked at his sister’s pale face and felt her cold body in his arms.
“What happened to you? Who did this to you?” he asked, but he already knew the answer.
Colt Debbert.
For years, Alexander had tried to bring Colt’s gang to justice. They were mostly guns for hire, and for them, no job was too risky or dirty. They did it all, robberies, kidnapping, even murder, and since they were a true menace, he focused all his energy on catching them.
The gang's leader, Colt Debbert, was the worst of the lot, and over time it had become some kind of a sick game for him to torment Alexander. He knew Colt wanted him dead, but he realize that Colt was happy to kill Honey first, to get to him.
He was too arrogant, he realized that now. He thought he was invincible, and Honey, too.
But his arrogance and carelessness had cost him his only family. For so long, he’d been too focused on the job, partly because of his pride, and it had cost him dearly; he’d lost the only person he cared about in this world.
A few days later, he was standing over a Honey’s freshly dug grave.
“This place was not meant for the weakhearted,” was written on one of the nearby tombstones.
I can’t agree more.
“I am so sorry, Honey,” he whispered, falling down to his knees on the newly turned dirt. He wished there was a way to make all the pain go away. It was agonizing. A part of him wondered how he was still alive in spite of it.
The smell of fresh earth made him want to pull out all his hair and scream to the sky above from the top of his lungs until his throat felt completely raw. This was all his fault.
“It should have been me inside that wooden box,” he yelled at the heavens. “Not you, Honey.” Not his beloved, little sister.
His Honey was one of the kindest, purest souls that ever walked in this town, on this Earth. In her short life, she never hurt anybody, always taking care of him, making sure to help other townspeople as much as she could. He wasn’t like that. He was a different kind of animal altogether. So why was he allowed to live after what he did, and why did she have to die?
“I don’t know how to be without you,” he cried, overcome with grief. “I am so sorry, Honey,” he repeated again and again, yet his words felt hollow, a
s though they were not enough.
His apologies would never be enough. They would forever rest on deaf ears, because Honey was gone.
Alexander felt like punching himself for being so stupid. He’d learned from a big-mouthed associate of Debbert’s that something big was about to occur in the gang. That had sent him on a journey to the cave, where he thought he’d find the gang readying for their next devilish task. He thought he’d be able to stop them.
But it was all a ruse. They just wanted to lure him out of the house long enough to take sweet Honey from him forever.
Being close to him, related to him, was what had killed Honey. He was like a plague to all the people that loved him. He felt cursed. And his sister’s death proved that fact. I don’t deserve to love, or to be loved.
His sister did not deserve this. She was brutally taken from this world before she even got a chance to properly live, love, have a family of her own. It was his fault, so it was up to him to do something about it. What he planned to do wouldn’t bring his sister back to life, but he hoped it would bring her some peace. Maybe bring some to him as well, if he dared to pray for something like that for himself in the first place.
“Thank you, Father,” he managed to choke out a few minutes later, after the priest had said the final words that would lay Honey to rest. If she could even rest, knowing what had been done to her. “It was a lovely sermon, and I appreciate all your kind words,” he continued to ramble, not fully knowing why. Perhaps he needed to fill the air between them with words so he wouldn’t start screaming again. Cursing this life for being so hard was also a possibility.
“She was a lovely girl... Come see me sometime, if you need someone to talk to,” the priest offered, and Alexander nodded in return, fully knowing he would never do such a thing. He had other plans, better ways of healing his pain.
The priest walked away leaving Alexander with his sister, with his agony.
“Honey, I failed you once. I am not going to fail you again, I promise,” he vowed.
He bathed in the hurt, smothered himself with rage until he almost felt like drowning. But it was good. It was giving him the energy he needed to battle Colt. He was now focused on only one thing: revenge. He clenched his fists into the dirt and squeezed it out between his fingers, the strength of his grip feeling good after so much weakness.
Honey, I will avenge you.
He would find all the men who did this to his family, who took his little sister from him, and he would make them pay in the most gruesome of ways. He would bring Hell down upon them, and enjoy it.
In his life, in his career, he’d always tried to be just; he always minded the law, no matter what anybody else thought or did. But not anymore.
For this case, this evil, he was going to act as both judge and executioner to these vile men. He would become the thing from their nightmares. He wanted them scared; he wanted them to feel everything his sister felt in her last moments.
It did not matter to him what happened after he managed to kill them all. He had made peace with the fact there was no life for him after that, after he got this revenge. He would quit his job and leave this wretched town for good, never to return. Even if he was victorious, there was no living where he was surrounded with so many memories, good or bad. Perhaps that made him a coward, but he did not care.
Forming this plan inside his head had empowered him; it gave him the strength to get back up on his feet.
“I will come to visit you soon, Honey,” he promised, taking one last look t at the grave before walking away.
Chapter 1
Courtfield, Montana 1888
While doing the last chores for the day, Clementine Brigitte Jones could hear a horse approaching the house. It was late at night and all sounds were amplified, but she was not afraid.
That’s what you get when you live in the middle of nowhere.
The good thing was nobody could surprise her, the bad, there was nothing she could do if someone did arrive unannounced and wanted to harm her.
Shortly after, the horse made some noise out of protest, and someone she knew all too well jumped from it somewhat awkwardly. She didn’t even have to look through the window to imagine the scene in front of her eyes perfectly.
Clementine seethed, checking the time. By his standards, he was coming home rather early. That fact did not make her feel better, not at all, because he’d spent two days away from home without sending any word to her.
Here he comes home, without any regard for me or this household.
The front door opened and then closed with a loud bang. It was a miracle it still stood on the hinges from all the abuse it had received over the years. Clementine didn’t even bat an eyelash at the state or the manner he was coming to her; she was too accustomed to the whole affair to be surprised or hurt anymore. That, in itself, was tragic.
Her husband Steve stumbled into the kitchen, completely drunk. He was plain in every way, of average height and build, with dark hair and matching eyes. However, the years of indulging in his many vices had not been kind to his appearance or his health.
Clementine did not even turn to look at him while she put away the last of the washed glasses. Likewise, she did not greet him in any form. He didn’t deserve anything from her anymore. It was bad enough she was trapped in this life.
“I’m hungry,” he slurred without greeting her properly. “Make me a plate.”
She could hear him crashing to the chair and she sighed. Glancing upward, she asked the heavens how it was possible that this was her life. There was no reply, yet she felt better letting that out to the universe. But deep inside knew she would survive all of this. That would take strength and courage, and Clementine knew she had both of them.
Taking a deep, empowering breath, she decided it would be for the best if she simply did what he asked, even though she was frustrated beyond measure and deeply unhappy in this form of prison.
At least, it was a true blessing they did not have children together, she mused, fully knowing how wrong a thought that was. But that did not change her mind. It was hard enough without children.
They were constantly arguing, and she was fed up with it. She was sick and tired of his constant drinking, gambling, lack of any regard toward her, not to mention lack of affection. He was violent and mean, and Clementine was glad he was not a father, even though it pained her she was not a mother.
At that point, she was no more than a maid to him. And how did she end up here, married to this man? Thanks to her dear father.
She could still remember that day, when he announced she was to be married. It was just after her mother's funeral.
“Come,” her father commanded. “It is time for us to go home.”
“I do not want to leave her here alone,” she sobbed. She felt as though her place was right there. Her mother never liked to be left alone.
Living on the remote ranch, with an absent father who worked all day, her mother was everything she had in this world. The prospect of living in it without her dear mother felt too glum.
“There’s nothing we can do, but pray she found peace,” her father replied gruffly. “The past is the past and now we must think of the future.”
Clementine could not believe he uttered those words at that moment. Right after they buried his wife.
How can he be so callous? Did he even love Mother at all?
She instantly felt guilty for having such thoughts. She knew her father loved her mother.
“I love you, Mother, farewell. I will be back tomorrow to visit you,” she promised. Reluctantly, she allowed her father to drag her away from the burial site. They were the only two people left at the graveyard.
A soft rain started to fall, and she thought about how it was quite fitting that it did. There was small comfort in the fact that even the heavens wept for the loss of this kind, lovely woman.
“We have to think about your future, my dear daughter,” her father said, startling her a little, once th
ey were settled inside their carriage.
Droplets of rain traveled down her face, staining her dress, yet she did nothing to stop them.
“Now that your mother is gone, I fear...”
“Please, Father,” she stopped him, not being able to stand such a conversation at this moment. She needed a moment to just breathe.
“No,” he insisted. “You have to listen to me.”
Clementine ignored her father. Unfortunately, that did not derail him.
“It is time we discuss your marriage.”
Was it really? She wanted to snap at him, but held her tongue, comprehending this was his own grief speaking.
“I already have a promising man in mind. He is a well-respected businessman of thirty-five that I met in church. He just moved here from Boston, and he has no wife.”
She almost asked if the man in question even wanted one.
“I am sure he will take good care of you,” her father concluded.
So that man was rich and was going to church. She was bitter her father thought that was everything she needed to know about a man she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with. “I do not wish to discuss this with you at the moment, father,” she practically snapped.
That sparked her father’s temper as well. “I am not a young man anymore and I just want to find someone who will take care of you after I’m gone.”
“I do not need to be taken care of, I can do everything on my own,” she replied, not being able to hold that inside of her any longer. Her father was too old-fashioned to listen to her. The disapproval was written all over his face.
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