“I’m too short.” Cora stamped her foot again, dust particles wafted around her. She fisted her hands on her hips and glared towards John.
“Let her use a mounting box.” Henry said.
“There won’t always be a box or a fence around. I want her to learn to pull herself on.” John studied his wife. She had sure worked up a head of steam in a hurry.
“Please, John. I promise I’ll practice. Can I please use the box for now?”
He couldn’t resist his wife’s pleading.
“Okay, but I want you to practice until you can mount without having to use anything.”
Cora brushed her lips over his and thanked him.
Henry placed the box next to Bess.
Cora climbed onto the box, placed a foot in the stirrup, flung her leg over and plonked down in the saddle. She flung her arm in the air. “I did it! I’m on Bess.” She patted the horse’s neck.
The men laughed at her excitement.
“Yes, you did darlin’.” John adjusted the stirrups and handed her the reins. He patiently explained how to use the leather strips to control what Bess did. He picked up the mounting box and joined Sam and Henry on the fence.
Cora clicked her tongue and eased Bess into a slow walk as John had taught her. They circled the small yard. “Relax into the saddle. That’s it. Now, straighten your back and don’t hold the reins so tight.”
Cora followed every instruction. More than anything, she wanted to make her husband proud of her.
“Ease her into a trot,” John said.
“How?”
“Click your tongue and flick your heel against her side.”
She did exactly what she was told. The change and increase in gait caught her off guard. Next thing she knew, she’d been unceremoniously dumped on her behind in the dust. Bess circled around her. Sam jumped off the fence and rescued the reins.
“Hell and damnation,” she cursed.
John rushed to her side, pulled her to her feet and scanned her for any obvious injuries.
“I’m fine honey,” she reassured him. “I should have been paying closer attention.” She brushed the dust from her clothes.
“That’s enough for today. Sam….” John began.
“Like hell it is,” Cora snapped. She grabbed hold of Bess, thrust her foot in the stirrup, her backside shot up in the air and, before anyone could blink, she was back up in the saddle. She gave a triumphant smile.
“Mrs. Franklin, you and me are gonna have to talk about your temper and your cussin’.” Despite John’s words, she saw the pride in his eyes.
She wrested the reins from Sam, clicked her tongue and within minutes, Bess was trotting around. With Cora in the saddle.
Sam and Henry wandered off to get on with their chores.
John instructed her for over an hour and, when he announced she’d had enough for one day, she readily agreed. Muscles she hadn’t known existed, ached. Her backside was numb. A hot bath would be her next stop before starting supper.
***
Cora sat in a rocking chair, John relaxed in the other. It was a beautiful but chilly evening. She loved how the twinkling of the stars lit up the hills. She drew a blanket around her.
“Does anyone live in the hills?” she asked.
“Mostly Indians and Miners.” John answered.
“Indians?”
“Yep.”
“Tell me more about them, please.”
John loved how curious she was about her new home. “In 1868 the Lakota were granted land rights. The US Government signed a treaty to prevent white settlement in the hills. The Indians are scattered throughout the hills. They’re peaceful for the most part but Galloping Gopher said some of the Lakota are close to being on the warpath. Since gold was found up there, the government has been slowly relocating the Lakota on to reservations so the miners can move in. The Indians refuse to sell or grant mining rights because they say the land is sacred.”
“Is it sacred?”
“I don’t know and I haven’t asked Gopher. The miners are angry because they want the gold. The Indians are angry because their home and sacred lands are being invaded and they’re being forced off.”
“Who is Galloping Gopher? Why did he tell you? Is he a friend? Are we safe here?”
Cora’s question indicated curiosity rather than fear. “Gopher, as I call him is a tribal Chief. His family are my friends. Their village is the closest to the ranch and I allow them to take a cow when they need to so they can feed themselves. They don’t have much since the white man killed off the buffalo. It’s a hard life for those who refuse to move to a reservation. He comes down to speak to me from time to time. He tells me about the unrest because we’re friends. He said if fighting does start it will be a long way from here. He assured me, he will make sure we’re safe.”
“You trust him.” It was a statement rather than a question. “Do you ever go into the hills?”
“Not much. Outlaws use them for hideouts. The Army and Indians are working together to put a stop to it but the anger towards the miners is affecting their relationship now.”
“Why are they called the Black Hills?”
“The Lakota call them Pahá Sápa which means black hills. It’s because the trees make them look dark, black.”
Cora was silent. Thoughtful.
“What’s going on in your pretty little head?” he asked.
“Is their village far from here?”
“About an hour’s ride. And, no, you’re not going there.”
She batted her eye lashes at him. “Will you take me there, please? Just once so I can understand how they live.”
John laughed. “Don’t bat your eyelashes at me, young lady. It won’t get you your own way. They wouldn’t take kindly to me bringing a female into their village. Especially without their permission. You can meet Gopher the next time he visits.”
Cora was disappointed but she understood John was probably right.
***
Over the following weeks, Cora practiced riding at every opportunity. She became confident enough to venture out to other parts of the ranch by herself. Bess was gentle, quiet, well behaved and Cora loved her. She loved everything about her new home.
The lowing of the cattle, the way the long grasses rippled and swayed in the soft breezes, and the stars appeared brighter than they were in the city.
Most of all, she was beginning to fall deeply in love with her husband. He treated her with kindness that she’d never known existed in men. He praised her cooking, how clean and ordered their home was, how quickly she learned new tasks and how she had accepted both him and her new life.
He was attentive. They discussed things at length. She found him to be well educated and knowledgeable about numerous subjects. While he educated and guided her about life on the ranch, she educated him about life in a city.
Then, there were the nights after they slipped into bed. John had taught her about love with tenderness and patience. He repeatedly told her she was beautiful and said he worshipped her beautiful body. She felt like she had fallen into a dream and she never wanted to wake up.
***
Lawrence, Massachusetts
The same evening Cora escaped from home.
Pierre grabbed Peter’s arm as he stepped through the door. “Where is she? Where the hell is that slut?”
Peter remained silent. He watched as his father’s eyes widened with realization.
“You helped her? You unlocked the door and helped her leave! Where is she? Tell me now or I’ll make sure that whore of yours comes to harm.”
Peter’s anger exploded. He grabbed his father by the throat. “I’ll never tell you where Cora is and if you try and find her, I’ll make sure this entire town knows what you and your friend, Ernest, have done. How you have raped and beaten innocent woman. Your careers will be finished and I’ll make sure you both go to jail.”
Pierre pushed Peter’s hands from his throat. The men wrestled, rolled on the f
loor. Punches connected with jaws. Shouts echoed throughout the house. Pierre’s hand connected with a candlestick, he wrapped his fingers around the heavy silver base, lifted it into the air and crashed it down against Peter’s temple.
Peter collapsed back onto the floor, unconscious.
Pierre scrambled to his feet, stumbled into the kitchen and located some thick twine. He tied his son’s ankles and wrists before going upstairs to clean up.
In his bedroom Pierre washed and changed into a clean suit of clothes. His face was already beginning to bruise. He growled in anger. How could his only son have betrayed him? And, what had he heard about his dealings with the local whores? He needed to speak with Ernest.
He hurried downstairs, checked that Peter was still secured and slipped into the night.
Ernest trudged to the front door. He wondered who was banging so loudly at this time of night. He opened it to see Pierre standing there. He glanced around and pulled him inside.
“Pierre, what are you doing here at this time of night?”
“We need to talk.”
Ernest offered his friend a whiskey and they both sat. Pierre took a large swallow before speaking.
“I’ve had a fight with my son. Cora is gone, he helped her.”
“What!” Ernest shouted. “How could she be gone when you said you had her locked in her room?”
“Peter let her out and helped her escape.”
“I thought you said he hated her?”
“I thought he did. He wouldn’t tell me where she is and we fought. I cracked his head with a candlestick. He’s unconscious, I tied him up.”
“He has to tell you. She’s mine. I paid your gambling debts so, as agreed, you owe me your daughter.”
“I know but I don’t know where she is. Peter said if we go after her, he’ll tell everyone in town about how we’ve been a bit rough with women.”
Ernest laughed. “I have powerful friends in not such high places. It will be a shame when your son and his slut meet with an unfortunate accident. Such a tragedy – two young people killed when the wheel dislodged from their carriage.” He shook his head and tutted before taking a sip of his whiskey.
“He won’t tell us where she is.”
“Does she have a friend who would help her?”
Pierre nodded slowly. Millie!
“I have a friend who will help you. He’s done some investigating work for me before. If anyone can find your daughter, he can. His name is David Holt. He doesn’t look pretty but he finds people fast.”
Ernest crossed to a desk in the corner of the room. He scribbled onto a piece of paper and handed it to Pierre.
“Bring her back here to me or I will destroy you.” Ernest’s voice was threatening, menacing. No-one thwarted him and lived to tell the tale.
Pierre let himself out and went home. Tomorrow he would contact David. He prayed this man could help him or his career, his life, everything he’d worked for would be destroyed. Damn that slut.
***
Pierre met David in the alley at the back of the hotel. Ernest was right, the man was not pretty. He resembled an outlaw one would see on a wanted poster. His clothes were dusty and obviously slept in. Both his hair and beard were scruffy and matted. At his hips rested dual colts in a low slung holster. He was tall, bulky and had an air about him that warned, he wasn’t to be messed with.
Pierre explained about Cora and how urgent it was that he find her and bring her back home.
David agreed for a large sum of money and told Pierre in no uncertain terms, he would not be a party to either killing or hurting.
“I can’t harm her. She is to come back here to marry Ernest.” Pierre assured him.
“Okay, this is how it works. You pay for the trains, carriages and meals. I’ll ask the questions. When we get to where ya think she is, we’ll probably need horses. Once ya got her, I’ll take ya to the nearest train station and that’s it.”
Pierre agreed to all of David’s demands and he left to book the first of their trains. Ernest had promised to take care of his son and his whore. Pierre would head to Sioux City. He was confident they would find the bitch there.
***
Cora’s arm stretched to the other side of the bed and she was disappointed to find it was empty. John had told her the previous night, he would be gone early. John, Sam and Henry were riding out to check on the mama cows. They would bring those that were close to calving back to the barn.
She heard a crash and a shout from downstairs. Frank! He would be preparing lunch. It had been agreed he would cook lunch and she would cook supper. Three days a week the men joined her and John for the evening meal. He must have had an accident.
She leapt from the bed, pulled on her nightgown and robe and rushed to the door. Before she could reach for the handle, the door was flung open. It slammed into the side of her face, she stumbled backwards and fell on to the floor.
She lifted her head and gazed into the twisted, contorted face of her father. His eyes radiated evil. She screamed.
“Don’t bother,” he snarled. “The man in the kitchen is dead and the others rode out two hours ago. I’ve been waiting and I figured when they hadn’t come back, they must be out fixin’ fences. I’ve heard that can take all day. Get up.” He kicked her in the stomach.
Cora struggled to her feet and inched backwards away from him.
Pierre grabbed a handful of her hair and dragged her to him. He slapped her face hard. Spots danced in front of her eyes. “You thought you could get away from me? Destroy my career? Give yourself to a stranger? I always knew you were no better than a whore.”
“Why are you here? How did you find me?” Peter didn’t know where she had gone and Millie would never have told.
“You led us a merry chase. I thought you were with that interfering friend but when we asked questions in Sioux City, we was told you’d come here. Imagine my surprise when some men in Rapid City said you were out here. You’re coming back with me. To Ernest where you belong.”
“I won’t go. I’m married now, my husband won’t let you take me. Peter will tell the authorities about you and Ernest if you harm me or take me back.” She forced herself to sound confident although she was trembling.
Her father cackled. Was he insane? “You don’t know? Your brother, God rest his soul, and his whore, met with an unfortunate accident. He won’t be telling anyone anything.”
Cora froze. She felt ill. Her brother. Mary. Dead? She tamped down her grief. It wouldn’t help her at this moment. “I’m married. I will not go back.”
“Good, Ernest won’t have to break you in. He doesn’t want to marry an ugly slut like you. He wants you in his bed as his whore.” He used the fistful of hair he was still holding to wrench her closer.
Cora yelped in pain.
He glared down at her. You, my dear are coming home and you will do exactly as you are told. I have had more than enough embarrassment thanks to you.”
Pierre threw his daughter over his shoulder, stormed downstairs and to the horse he had waiting out front. Cora screamed, kicked and fought, all to no avail.
She was thrown face down across the saddle, the air whooshed from her lungs. He tied her hands together behind her back and shoved a wad of material into her mouth.
“Shut up and stay still.” He mounted the horse, readjusted her position and the horse took off at a gallop.
Her head banged on the side of the saddle. The pain in the side of her face grew stronger each time it connected with the hard leather. Her nightgown and robe did nothing to protect the front of her body from the friction of being jostled. She knew she was being rubbed raw. The ties at her wrists pinched and her hands soon became numb.
She slipped over the side of the horse but, before she could be thrown under the pounding hooves, her father jerked her back into position using the ties on her wrists. The pain throughout her body became too much to bear. She wanted to die. John, please help me.
It was the las
t thought she had before darkness rose up and claimed her.
Chapter Eleven
“That didn’t take as long as I expected,” Sam said as they herded the mama cows back to the house paddock. “We’ll be able to get those in the east paddock tomorrow. Hopefully it goes as well as today.”
“Our herd numbers are gonna increase more than we thought when the mama’s drop their calves.” Henry said.
“It’s been a good year.” John agreed. The number of pregnant cows, the cattle prices were higher than ever before and Cora coming into his life. Yep, life was pretty much perfect.
Cora: Bride of South Dakota (American Mail-Order Bride 40) Page 10