High Stakes Bride, Men of Stone Mountain Book 2

by Clemmons, Caroline

  Depression had stolen the last of Rose’s hope. “Birdie, we may as well face it. There’s no hope and no way I can escape.”

  “You keep on prayin’ and so will I. Lucy drawed you this picture. Now I got to get back.” Birdie passed the paper through the bars.

  “Tell her how much I love her. Make sure she doesn’t see the...the....” she shrugged, unable to say the dreadful word hanging.

  “I been tellin’ her you’re the best woman the Good Lord ever made, and she knows you love her.”

  When Birdie had gone, Rosalyn looked at the drawing. Her daughter’s simplistic art showed a woman and little girl holding hands in a flower garden. How many times had she and Lucy walked among her garden, admiring the blooms and the butterflies attracted to the blossoms? Rosalyn sank to her cot and sobbed.

  The wind picked up and a gust fluttered the paper in her hands. Lightning flashed and rain blew through the open window. Rosalyn moved to the other cot across the narrow cell. At least the rain didn’t hit her there.

  The sky grew darker and clouds developed a greenish cast. Fine hairs on Rose’s arms prickled. A peculiar sulphurous odor surrounded her.

  “Looks like we’re in for a doozy of a storm.” Sheriff Boudreau said, but he didn’t rise from his chair. Instead, he went back to reading his newspaper, which is what he did most of the time as far as Rosalyn could tell. Either the man memorized the stories or else he was the slowest reader ever born.

  Dust and debris blew through the window and swirled around the cell. A horrific sound reached Rosalyn’s ears, like a freight train roaring toward town. She’d never been in a tornado, but she recognized the descriptions she’d heard. Instead of merely dust and paper, now debris flew at her. A chunk of wood hit her forehead with such force she fell back against the wall.

  “Take cover,” yelled the sheriff. She saw him dive under his desk, cramming as much of his bulky figure as possible into the kneehole space.

  Her cot was bolted to the concrete floor, so she crawled underneath. The rumble grew louder, shaking everything. Rosalyn clung to the cot’s legs with white knuckles. Air whooshed from her lungs and she fought to breathe.

  Winds sucked at her skirt so hard she thought her clothes would be ripped from her body. Holding on to the metal bed legs required all her strength. More debris pummeled her and she closed her eyes against the sting. With a powerful crash, the roof flew away and the jail walls collapsed inward. The noise nearly deafened her. Clouds of dust billowed up through the rain. At last, the only sound was thunder.

  Cautiously, Rose clawed her way out from her hiding place. If not for the metal cot frame, she surely would have been crushed or blown away. Rain drenched the town and she heard cries as people called for loved ones and friends. Darkness hung heavy, broken only by flashes of lightning. She inched her way across the floor obstructions in a crouch.

  Lucy, she had to make certain Lucy was all right.

  When she reached the sheriff, another bolt of lightning illuminated the pile of rubble that had been the jail. Dear God in heaven. A new board, one Rose judged to be from the gallows, had sheared off the top of Sheriff Boudreau’s head.

  The crooked sheriff was no friend of Rose’s or of justice. He took orders from her brother-in-law and, before her late husband’s death, had taken them from him also. Still, she wouldn’t wish this terrible end for anyone. The horrific sight set her stomach roiling and she puked until only dry heaves wracked her body.

  Take a deep breath. Get out of here. Go to Lucy.

  Using grit she hadn’t realized she possessed, she slipped the gun from the lawman’s holster. Odd that he was dead and the walls were down or missing, yet his desk sat right where it had before the tornado. She opened the drawer where he’d stuffed her reticule and retrieved it and a box of bullets. She hoped they went to the pistol she’d grabbed.

  Apparently the tornado had swept through the main part of town. Buildings had collapsed or disappeared. A couple of stores were burning even in the rain. Racing through the night, dodging detritus lying across her path, she ran the two blocks to her former home.

  Please let Lucy be all right.

  Her house still stood. Thank you, Lord. Was Walter present? She slipped around to the back and opened the door.

  Birdie waited for her. The women hugged one another.

  “I seen what happened from the window upstairs and like to have died of fright. Then I saw you creeping along and I got food bagged for your escape.”

  “Thank you, Birdie. I could never have made it this long without you. I wish you were my real mama instead of just the nanny who raised me. You know I love you more than anyone in the world except for Lucy.”

  Birdie sniffed away tears. “I know, I know, child. You’re like my own daughter. Now get busy. Your brother-in-law ain’t here, but I reckon he will be soon enough. Been next door drinking with the Judge.”

  “Stall him if you can. I have to get to Lucy and my safe.” Rose hurried upstairs to her daughter’s room. Her little girl sobbed on her pillow.

  “Lucy, baby, I’m here.” She scooped her daughter into her arms.

  Lucy hugged her neck. “Oh, Mommy. He said you weren’t coming back. I missed you so much.”

  “We have to leave, Lucy, just as quick as we can. Grab a couple of your favorite things while I pack your clothes.” Rose set her daughter on the bed and searched for a bag. When she discovered a large valise, she threw things into it with no thought to order.

  Lucy grabbed her around the waist. “Mommy, I hear Uncle Walter.”

  “We have to fool him. Get in bed and pretend you’re scared by the storm. Don’t let him know I’m here. Can you do that?”

  “I am scared of the storm, so I don’t have to pretend.”

  Lucy lay on the bed and pulled the cover up to her chin. Rose hid behind the door. Dear Lord, don’t let Walter look here.

  From his stumbling walk, she knew her brother-in-law was drunk. Alcohol only increased his vicious streak, just as it had for his late brother.

  He carried a lantern as he stopped in the doorway. “So the whiney little baby is afraid. Boo-hoo-hoo. Snot-nosed brat. Go to sleep and quit sniveling.” He slammed the door behind him.

  So, he didn’t know the jail had collapsed and half the town blown away? She looked for more of Lucy’s clothes and realized Birdie had already packed most of them. She helped her daughter dress and don a coat. After scooting the armoire from the wall, she opened the safe concealed there.

  Her brother-in-law had wasted no time cleaning out the large safe in the study, but Walter didn’t know about this one that Luther had installed. Only she, Birdie, and Luther knew this cache existed. After the trial, Rose had told Birdie to take the contents.

  Everything remained as Rose had left it, filled with the inheritance from her grandmother. Bless Birdie and Luther for their honesty. When she’d emptied the contents into the valise, she scooted the armoire back in place.

  “We have to be very quiet.” She took her daughter’s hand. Lucy clasped her favorite doll. They slipped silently down the stairs.

  Birdie waited for them, nursing her jaw. “He was in his usual good mood when he come in.”

  “Oh, Birdie, I’m sorry you’ve had to tolerate his nasty temper to help Lucy and me.” Rose handed her former nanny and best friend a bundle of money. “Don’t spend any of it here or he’ll say you stole it from him. When a couple of weeks have passed, you and Luther suddenly move away. Disappear. This is enough you won’t have to work ever again.”

  Birdie stuffed the money inside her dress. “When you’re somewheres safe, you send word to my cousin Ruthie Jordan in Baton Rouge.”

  “I remember her address on Lafayette Street. You won’t hear for several weeks, not until I’m sure we’re far enough away Walter can’t find us.”

  “Luther’s waiting in the barn to help you on your way. Good thing he’d already loaded your trunks.”

  Lucy tugged at her hand. “Mommy, where
are we going?”

  Rose had no idea. Walter would expect her to go east and south toward New Orleans where she’d grown up. She decided to go west.

  “As far as we can, baby, where no one will ever find us.” She prayed that was possible.

  About Author Caroline Clemmons

  As long as I can remember, I've made up adventures. Okay, I admit the early creative stories featured me riding the range with Roy Rogers and Dale Evans and saving the West. What a disappointment to learn that Roy was exclusively committed to Dale! Eventually, my best friend from across the street and I decided to become better detectives than Nancy Drew. We drove our parents and neighbors crazy sticking our pert little noses where they didn't belong. About that time I started writing down my adventures, but mostly I was a reader. Not until I read Nora Roberts' early novels did I decide to create my own romance manuscripts. My road to publishing was a lot slower than Nora's was. No surprise there! I still read Nora's books—as well as those of countless other authors—but now I write full time. Unless life interferes, that is.

  My Hero and I live on a small acreage in the ranching and horse country of North Central Texas. Our two daughters are grown, but live nearby. Living with Hero and me now are Webster, our sweet black Shih Tzu, and our two shorthaired cats: Sebastian, a large black and white tuxedo who thinks he's our watchcat; and Bailey Erin, a shy apricot tabby. When I'm not writing, I love spending time with family, reading, traveling with Hero, browsing antique malls, and digging into family history and genealogy. Writing about strong heroes and heroines who overcome amazing obstacles to forge a meaningful life together is my passion.

  I love hearing from readers at caroline@carolineclemmons.com

  Check my other links:

  Website www.carolineclemmons.com

  Blog http://www.carolineclemmons.blogspot.com

  Facebook http://www.facebook.com/carolineclemmonsromances

  Twitter http://www.twitter.com/carolinclemmons (no E in Caroline)

  Also author pages at Goodreads and LinkedIn

  Thanks for reading my book! If you enjoyed it, please be kind enough to leave a good review wherever you purchased this book and/or Goodreads.