A Ransomed Heart

by Wolfe, Alex Taylor

  “Well, sis, I guess we better get going.”

  She jumped from the log, grimacing in pain. Her leg had grown stiff and sore and without Little Bear’s concoction of herbs the pain was becoming nearly impossible to ignore. Catching the concern in her brother’s eyes, she tried to smile and hobble over to her horse. With some difficulty, she pulled herself up into the saddle. It would be less than a few hours ride into town, and for Logan, she could make it. Watching as Jace kicked dirt over the campfire and mounted his own horse without question, she felt tears welling up in her eyes. This was the reason she was willing to marry Mr. Sevier, because her family was willing to run off and follow her absurd story she had just told. Knowing she could never marry the man now, she could only hope her newest plan would work out better for everyone.

  Urging their ponies into a run they hurried from camp and up and over the next rise. Leaving the rocky river edge, Annabelle followed her competent brother down onto the open plain. Their horses flew over the sagebrush and brown foliage which sprung from the dry dusty ground. Her leg ached with each jostle, but renewed hope surged though her. She was on her way to save her family, this time on her own terms. It wouldn’t be long before she would be free, free for the great adventure she had always dreamed about. It had started that fateful day in the coach, but it was only going to get more amazing when she could continue it with the man she loved, Logan Bailey, the man who held her heart for ransom.

  It was a race against time and they were winning. Their horses sucked in great gasps of air, their hooves pounding against the ground; scenery passing by them at breakneck speeds. Annabelle encouraged her horse to keep up with Jace’s, even though it was quite possibly the fastest she had ever gone on a horse. She clutched the reins tightly and grabbled a handful of the animal’s mane in her hand; it didn’t matter how fast she needed to ride she would do it.

  Finally, before the sun settled in its highest point, the town of Regency glittered on the horizon, with Sage Creak winding its way into town and out the other side. Pulling their animals up for some much needed air, Jace looked at his sister and smiled. They had made it, twenty minutes from now they would be in the center of town. Walking up the last ridge, they stopped next to a recently used camp. Jace dismounted and felt the warm fire, then looked at the ground down the back side of the ridge. Whoever had been here hadn’t left very long ago. Looking into Annabelle’s face he knew it must have been her Logan. Nodding his head he quickly mounted his horse and they hurried their animals down the ridge and rode into town.

  The bar was full, mostly of Mr. Sevier’s cowboys, tension was high and even the liquor did nothing to ease the feeling in the room. It was cloudy with cigarette smoke and the sun poured in through the cracks in the door. Outside the people kept their heads down sensing something was different in the town today. Mr. Mousse kept looking nervously over his shoulder, but Sevier just nursed his drink and kept quiet. There was a card game going on and the piano man played quietly in the corner. Even the dancing girls had halted their rounds, sticking close to the card game and away from the brooding men at the bar. The silence wouldn’t last long though, because out in street there rose a commotion.

  Not too many people noticed the young man at first. His dirty clothes and rugged appearance fit right in with the working men who came into town time and time again. But as he rode onward past the mercantile store and the feed lot, they paid more attention. Women looked at him curiously, intrigued by his dark face under the brim of his hat. Men touched their gun belts and wrapped a protective arm around their ladies. Small boys watched him in awe as if they knew who he was and what he was going to be doing that day. Little girls peered around their mother’s skirts. All was silent but the rider who continued to whistle his version of Laredo. Finally, he pulled his buckskin to a halt and dismounted, swinging the leather over the worn wooden pole and then eyed the crowd.

  Logan could feel their eyes on him; he could hear their whispers and the questions which were rolling around in their heads. Who was he and why was he here? It hadn’t been so obvious the night before, in the dark he was a stranger, but today in the light of day everyone knew he didn’t belong. It felt strange really, because some of these people did know him, even if they didn’t remember, but he did. He wondered what they would think when all was revealed in the very short future. Would they be shocked or amazed, surprised or pleased? He could only hope, but he wouldn’t know because he would be focusing so much on the task at hand. If by some small miracle he did survive, maybe he would know, but only time would tell.

  Then, as if on cue, Robert Sevier pushed open the bar doors and walked out onto the boardwalk. His boots made a hollow sound as he walked to the railing and looked first one way down the street then the other. People shrunk back away from his gaze until it fell on the man in front of him. His face was partially obscured from the sun beating down on the brim of his hat; his lean body was stiff and straight betraying nothing of the gunshot graze or the nerves which jumped around inside of him. Sevier eyed the man taking in his size and weight, his steady but shadowed face. For the first time a chill ran up his spine and his confidence wavered just a little bit, although it would never show in his stone face.

  Not willing to take his eyes off his opponent, Logan backed into the street, his hands flexing open and closed. As he moved farther away from the building, the sun moved just enough that his face crawled into view and he truly saw the man who was there to challenge him. He watched carefully for the moment of recognition, hoping it would shock him and cause him to think twice. Maybe he would think he was seeing a ghost or seeing the past there to bring him to justice. All of those thoughts raced through his head until it happened. The stern mouth opened ever so slightly and beside him the twitchy Mr. Mousse gasped. Logan felt a sense of revenge wash over him and he smiled.

  Sevier stood there shocked, alarmed, and even a bit afraid. It couldn’t be. No, it couldn’t be! Her eyes stared back at him, the eyes of the woman he had loved so much. But the man before him was far from her gentle beauty; no, it was the man he had banished from his life years before. The face he had in the sights was one that never seemed to fade away; it was Logan Bailey Sevier, his son. But if his memory served him correctly, the boy was dead. Shot by his own gun and left to die in a mud puddle down the road from him and across the river. How was he standing there in the sunshine with a smile across his face?

  Mr. Mousse’s sounds of shock rocked him from his memory, forcing him to concentrate on the matter at hand. No matter who this man turned out to be, he was the one who was keeping him from what he wanted, he was the one who had stolen from him and taken his bride, and no matter what blood coursed though the boy’s body he deserved to die and repay all that had been taken from him. Robert Sevier would need to kill this boy, or the man he had become, and rid his life of him and his tormented past forever. Slowly he descended the stairs and walked into the middle of the road to face his son.

  “Where is she?” he kept his tone down, unsure he wanted the rest of the crowd in on their secret.

  Logan smiled wickedly, the world knowing all about this encounter was just what he wanted.

  “She isn’t here.” His voice was loud and clear against the quiet boardwalk.

  Cowboys slowly walked from the bar and looked at the two men in the street. Their opposites were so startling it was hard not to notice. One man dressed to the hilt in fine clothes, a new pistol gleaming at his side; the other, a rugged cowboy who held a sense of mystery to all who looked at him. The other audience hunkered back against the walls, the women and children finding shelter in the stores, their round faces pressed to the glass. It was too interesting to be missed.

  Sevier glared at the boy; his voice came as a rush and a hiss. “I killed you once, boy, I’ll do it again.”

  “You know as well as I do it wasn’t a fair fight, sir,” Logan shot back.

  Sevier laughed as if he had heard something hysterical then he pointed to the gold
star on his breast. “Boy, this makes everything fair.”

  “But would it be fair if everyone here knew the truth?” Again his clear voice rung to the rooftops. His blue eyes held his father’s in a death lock.

  Sevier winced a bit; this was going to get worse before it got better. “Why should these people care?” He waved his hands around at the crowd. “They don’t know you or your cause, and those who do, know you as a traitor.”

  The last word stung a bit; it was true he had left, left all Mr. Sevier had offered him: a home, a future, even a young wife. Surely all those who felt sympathy for Mr. Sevier would view him as a traitor, but what about those who were suffering at the man’s hand, what would they view him as? He swallowed, unwilling to let the man get the better of him; he was in the right and everyone would see it, even if he died right here on the street. Everyone would see he was right and Sevier was wrong. Taking one step closer to the man, he continued in his loud voice.

  “You, Robert Sevier, are the only traitor.” Then he lifted his hat and showed his face to those who were watching. The men at the bank door drew a collective breath and stared. The cowboys stepped away from the man who had just revealed himself. Some women watching covered their mouths and looked at the blond-haired boy who had grown into a man. The resemblance, to those who had no memory of him, was too much to ignore. Everyone and everything was silent and waiting. “Should we tell them how you steal from their families and take what isn’t yours? Should we yell from the rooftops the names of the men you have sent to their graves for defying you, or the women you have taken for your own pleasure? Should we let them in on the secret of a purchased bride who would have been used for your own pleasure, and then the darkest secret of them all, how you tried to kill me, your son, your own flesh and blood for money!” His last phrase echoed around and around, off every building and every ear in the town. Even Mr. Sevier was struck dumb with shock.

  Logan took one, then two, then three steps away from the man, and looked into the faces of those around him. “This man has held you captive for too long. He has fed the rich and taken from the poor. He is bent on ruining lives and taking things for himself so he can finally achieve what he wants, complete domination. He is a twisted man and I, Logan Sevier, his son, left alone with a mother who could not take care of us, leaving us destitute, have come to redeem you, all of you.”

  It wasn’t met with the cheers that maybe he had wanted or the hordes of supporters he had hoped for, but they didn’t run or turn away from him, they watched and he could see the hope in their eyes. Facing the man again he spoke quieter, letting a personal note seep into his voice. “You didn’t expect me to not hate you. Did you really think after everything you have done to me, to us, our family, that I would ever forgive you?”

  “I gave you everything when you came here, boy; I gave you every opportunity to become like me.”

  “Why would I ever want to be like you.” It was not a question, more of a statement which brought with it every fear and worry and all the pain he had carried with him all this time. Finally, Logan realized never in his life had he ever wanted to be like his father, and his rejection of the man three years ago was proof. Suddenly everything he had thought was for the benefit of Hope was revealed as the benefit for himself. It had nothing to do with money or grandeur, it had to do with his own insecurities as a man. Now, it didn’t matter what he had come to accomplish, the only thing that mattered was that he had found himself.

  Mr. Sevier’s face was red, either from the heat of the day or his anger. It didn’t matter now what had happened, it was as if the woman from his memory had left him all over again. Now his son stood there in front of Sevier’s whole world and rejected him. Anger and frustration rose in his throat, “I loved her, boy, more than you would ever know, and my peace in life will never be found, you have no idea what it’s like.” And so the threat escaped his lips: “So to the death, boy, me out of your life, or more appropriately, you out of mine.”

  The world stopped spinning and everyone held their breath. It had come down to a fight, right here in the streets of Regency. Who would be the survivor, if there was one, the father or the son? The little round faces were pulled away from the window, their eyes covered by worried mothers. The cowboys pressed their way back into the buildings and out of the line of fire. And the two men in the arena moved several feet apart, staring each other down with identical blue eyes. Neither of them noticed the two riders who had happened upon the scene.

  Annabelle pulled her horse to a stop, willing herself to jump to the ground. Her leg, however, would let her go no farther. The pain was blinding, almost too much to bear, and she fell to the dust-covered ground. Jace hurried to her side, picking her up under one arm and supporting her. They only had seconds before the shooting would start but they were too far to stop anything from happening. Even in their rushed limp they would never make it in time to witness someone’s death.

  Annabelle could see Logan’s back, his hat tipped on his head, his shoulders set firmly square. He was ready and it terrified her. What if he never knew she loved him; what if he died by the hand of this horrible man? Tears sprang to her eyes and she tried to hurry but her leg played no part in her desperation. Even with Jace’s help she was helpless.

  Logan felt compelled to speak just one last thing, so if he never spoke again, everyone would know, even the man he hated. He needed to defend his mother because she was not there to do it herself. It was as if she needed him to do this one last thing before she was gone. Opening his mouth he felt her come though him and out into the air. “She loved you, too; she always loved you, Father.”

  It was as if a train had hit everyone in the crowd and in the same instant, pistols glimmered in the sun and shots rang in the air. Logan watched, stunned as his father was knocked backwards onto the ground. He looked down at his own unfired pistol then around at the crowd which had gathered around him. He caught a glimpse of half a dozen pistols being holstered and then their owners turned and walked away, leaving Logan unsure of what had happened exactly. The sound of Sevier’s coughing brought Logan to the man’s side. Logan gazed down at the man who looked so much like himself. His wounds were fatal and Sevier’s breath was rapid, his eyes taking on a glazed look. Suddenly he reached one bloody hand towards Logan. For a moment Logan didn’t know what to do with it and then he knelt and took it. They were too close together for anyone to hear.

  “I never stopped loving your mother,” he whispered.

  “Then why did you leave?” Logan’s voice was strained with years of hurt and anger.

  “I knew I could make a better life for us, for you, if I came west and mined us some gold.” He drew a ragged breath. “But everything came apart out here, like it does in the west, and I was left with nothing but regrets.” His voice rattled in his chest.

  “You know she would have taken you back.” Logan’s eyes became wet with the thought; if he had come back they could have been a family.

  “No, son, I couldn’t have, I was a broken man.”

  “But this,” Logan looked around, “this gave you the same kind of joy?”

  Sevier shook his head then coughed up a spot of blood. “Nothing gave me joy like you and your mother did.” His hand tightened around Logan’s and he looked at him, the light gone from his eyes. “Can you ever forgive me?”

  Everything was tangled up inside. Logan didn’t know if he could ever forgive the man. He had hurt him so deeply, left his mother to die alone, not to mention the sadness that Annabelle would have felt had she married the man. Robert Sevier was a selfish man who had lost his soul, but at some point in life didn’t all men lose a little piece of their soul? A single tear slipped from his eye and fell to the dust next to the man he should have called father. Instead he was a stranger, and in the end, just a sad, broken man. Nodding his head, he gave the man a single token of forgiveness. Then he watched the blue eyes close for the last time. Had either of them found what they were looking for? Loga
n had no answer to give and probably never would. He let go of Sevier’s hand and let it fall to his chest. Then he stood up and wiped the sticky blood on his pants. It was done.

  No one rushed into the street to carry away the body. Mr. Mousse stood shaking in his boots watching Logan warily. The cowboys who had been so anxious to serve the dead man stood watching then turned to go back to their games, women, and drinks. There was no one there to take Logan away and shut him into the jail as he assumed would happen. He hadn’t shot his pistol a single time yet his father died from six bullet wounds. Instead people lowered their eyes and walked away. Turning from the gruesome scene his eyes fell upon Annabelle. She stood there her face white, her body trembling. She was dressed much like she had been the day she had been shot. His heart leapt in his chest when he saw her, but she seemed so unmovable he was almost afraid to approach her.

  Annabelle looked first at the man on the ground, his life gone from his body, and then at the man she loved standing so alone in the dusty road. Pink colored his shirt and bloody handprints smeared his pants. Annabelle understood now, Mr. Sevier was Logan’s father. Her mind raced to put the pieces together. She remembered the story that Mama had told her, how Logan had been left alone in the world, a mother dead and a father who didn’t care. Standing there she could see the resemblance of the two men, but in her mind Logan was different, he was a hero. He had become someone he didn’t know he could be, someone who saved families from a life of nothing, a friend who was honorable and trustworthy, and a man who was willing to risk his life for someone he loved, even if it meant he may never have all the things he wanted in life. At that moment everyone in the town of Regency could see Logan was not his father at all.

  They both stood there looking at each other unsure what to do or how to proceed. Both of their goals had been obliterated the moment Sevier had died. Annabelle had been so prepared to forgo her own happiness for her beloved family. And all Logan had wanted was to help the people he considered family. Now both of those things were gone, done, and finished. It wasn’t until Mr. Mousse slinked off toward the carriage that they were able to move from their respective spots.