Montana Blue
Page 7
She looked behind them and didn't see a horse in pursuit. Mitch was probably waiting between the station and town.
Was this her destiny to come so far west only to be kidnapped and held prisoner? Surely her mother did not agree to it. No, she believed anything her father told her. He probably concocted some story as to why Bethany remained behind.
The wagon began to slow and she searched desperately for signs of another town or people, but the area looked to be desolate. “Where are you taking me?”
Her abductor was a tall, thin man with dirty, long hair to his shoulders and an equally dirty hat that had a chunk missing out of it. His dark eyes looked to her. “No need to tell ya. It won't mean nothing to ya.”
“My things. They are all at the station.” She tried to come up with something to get him to talk. He ignored her and snapped the reins.
With a growl, she threw herself at the man. She swung as hard as she could and hit him in the jaw with her fist. Not expecting an attack, he released the reins and lifted his arms to defend from her next hit. It was too late to stop. It was not in her nature to sit back and wait for whatever he planned to do. He pushed her back so hard, she almost fell from the wagon. The motion only made her angrier. With renewed strength, she rushed at the man again. This time, he lost his balance and his feet came up from the floorboards. Using the momentum from it, she shoved at him once again and he fell from the wagon.
Bethany grabbed the reins and snapped them hard. The horses jutted forward and took off, once again, at a gallop. She turned in a large circle so the man could not run up and catch her. He lay on the ground grabbing at his leg.
Just then, four horsemen appeared. Bethany slumped in relief at seeing Mitch and Alder Gulch's sheriff with two others.
Mitch rushed up to the wagon and the sheriff continued toward where the man lay.
She pulled the wagon to a stop and scampered down. Mitch met her when she rushed into his arms. Only then did she cry.
He lifted her face up to him and kissed her until she stopped. “That's my girl. The bastard didn't know what he was up against.”
Bethany almost laughed. She sniffed instead. Mitch inspected her face and hands, kissing each place when he found her unhurt.
“I think I love you,” Bethany blurted, watching his eyebrow fly up. “No, I don't think it. I know.”
He gave her a lazy smile. “It's about time you realize it, Miss Jones. It took you long enough to catch up.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was enthralled the day you toppled over into the wagon and fell in love when you sauntered into my store.”
Bethany laughed then and hit his shoulder. “You did not. You thought I was married.”
“I did.” He leaned and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Good thing you turned out not to be.”
They watched the men place the limping stranger into the back of the wagon. Bethany began to shake and Mitch led her to his horse. “Come on, we need to get back to town.”
“Where are my parents?”
“They left on the stagecoach. Probably think you're being held by him right now.”
He helped her atop the horse and when he mounted behind her, she leaned against him.
Mitch kissed her hair. “Just in case, I'm going to take you to Doc's. Make sure you're all right.”
“I'm fine. Don't coddle me. I can take care of myself.”
“I am well aware of that.” Mitch chuckled, then became quiet. “What about your money. Your father intends to have your mother sign for you.”
“I've already warned the lawyer. My grandmother will ensure it's safe.”
“You sent two telegrams then?”
“Um hmm.” She turned her head and laid it on his chest, content to stay there.
Two weeks later.
“Good morning, Mitch.” Bethany entered the mercantile and placed a cup of coffee in front of the silent man.
Mitch narrowed his eyes. “Thank you.”
“Can we talk?” Bethany plopped down on the stool beside his. “About this mercantile.”
Her living in the back of the mercantile made for them spending the mornings talking. Mitch found that he looked forward to holding a conversation now, but only with her. He hurried over every day at dawn. “What's on your mind?”
“Well,” she patted her finger on her chin in thought. “The Witts want to buy the mercantile, but cannot afford it. You want to work on your land, but are kept from it because of the mercantile. Why not come to an agreement?”
He'd become used to her sharp mind. Bethany Jones was intelligent as well as beautiful. “Go on.”
“What if you allow Mr. Witt to take over the mercantile and pay you from the store profits? You told me there is enough money in your bank account to begin building a home and acquiring horses and such for your land.”
He wondered at her motives. “Are you trying to get rid of me, Bethany? If I am no longer here,” he motioned to the room, “then you won't see me every day.”
Her only reply was a raised eyebrow. Bethany let out a breath, stood and walked to the opposite side of the counter. “It’s only a suggestion. You are not happy here.”
“You're right. It's a good suggestion. It just may work.” With quick moves, he stood and rounded the barrier. Mitch took her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “What about you? You have not said when you plan to return to New York.”
Her beautiful hazel eyes searched his face. “I am hoping a reason to remain shows itself.”
“In the form of?”
She moved from under his hands. “I'm going to meet Mrs. Dawson for tea. She's agreed to allow me to take pictures of her gardens.”
When she stepped back, he stopped her with his question. “Have you heard about your parents?”
“My grandmother is sure they will come to her for aid if they run out of money. She will refuse them. Although they may deserve a worse punishment, I believe learning to live on my mother's small inheritance will serve to teach them a lesson.”
He didn't agree, but decided not to pursue the subject. “Bethany.” At the sound of his husky voice, her eyes darted to his mouth. “I haven't touched a drop of whiskey in almost three weeks.”
“You haven't?” Her eyes widened. “Are you all right?”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “I won't lie. It's harder than I expected. I'd become quite dependent on it.”
“I'm proud of you.”
The words, coupled with her smile, made his chest expand. “I haven't talked about the words we said to each other the day you were taken because I wanted to make sure. Be positive I could be the man you deserve.”
“Mitch, you are so much more than any man I've ever met.”
“I want to be healthy and strong and able to provide for you, Bethany.”
“Provide?”
“Yes, for you. If you'd accept me.” Heart hammering in his chest, Mitch fell to one knee. He reached for her hands and lifted them to his mouth, kissing each knuckle. “Marry me, Bethany Jones.”
Boots barked as if he understood it was a happy occasion and ran in circles around them.
Her reply was a breathless yes, followed by her throwing herself against him, knocking him to the ground. Laying on the floor with her beside him, Mitch took her face with both hands and kissed her soundly.
And that was how Mrs. Dawson found them.
The End
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hildie McQueen is my pseudonym. Writing is my dream come true. There is nothing I love more than bringing my characters and stories to life and sharing them with you. I live in a small town in Georgia with my husband and two unruly Chihuahuas.
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