Mail Order Bride: Captured Hearts: a Clean Western Historical Romance (Mail Order Brides of Gold Creek Book 6) (2 page)

Bang!

The gun shot was hollow and rang out across the wide plains. The bandit who had fired it turned back in his saddle to keep his pace steady enough to keep up with his gang.

“Abe!” Ira shouted, throwing a quick glance behind him to see if his friend was hurt.

“I’m fine!” Abe hollered back. “Keep chasing!”

He kicked his horse frantically and it edged past Ira on hooves of lightning. Still, the bandits outran them. Curtis, pulling up alongside Ira and nodding at him, drew his pistol and pointed it toward the group, but didn’t fire.

“Abe!” he hollered. “You’re in the way!”

With the violent pound of horse’s hooves that jogged their marksmanship, Ira was glad that Curtis didn’t simply choose to fire in the heat of the moment. He drew out his own pistol and kicked his horse. With a surge forward he soon caught up with Abe, who had had to pull his horse to the side to dodge another shotgun blast.

“They’re getting away,” Abe panted.

“I know,” Ira said bitterly, reigning in his horse.

“They’ll be back,” said Abe, stopping beside him. “And probably for our ranch, too.”

Curtis stormed past them, firing shot after shot at the rapidly escaping group of bandits. He was too far away to make a real impact.

Ira watched them fade into the sunset and felt different than he usually did on such an occasion. For years now, the residents of Gold Creek had called upon Ira and his friends to defend their properties when the Sheriff wasn’t around. He had relished it at first, proud that he was able to maintain law and order. Yet each time it was becoming less and less satisfying to him, overshadowed by a new dream that was growing in his mind.

“Looks like that’s it then,” said Abe, the disappointment evident in his voice.

“Yeah,” said Ira. “Looks that way.”

Curtis rode up, his eyes blazing with fury.

“I
nearly
got one of them,” he said. “They’re getting a lot better.”

“At least they didn’t get what they came for,” said Ira, nodding at the cattle on the Dunn’s ranch who had scattered in fear. “Let’s get them herded back to the barn.”

As Ira led the men in rounding up the cattle, he thought about how dissatisfying life had become for him and a heavy weight descended on his soul. He knew it was time for a change, but was becoming less convinced that the ad in the Matrimonial News that Curtis and Abe had suggested was a good idea. In truth, he felt a call deep within him to leave Gold Creek altogether and start a new life elsewhere, though he had no idea of where that would be.

A vague notion of opening a school for the poor, just like the one he had attended as a child, hovered in the back of his mind, though it was almost too wild for him to permit himself to acknowledge it. Perhaps it wasn’t wise for him to leave his ranch to pursue charitable endeavors that promised no money at all, but the idea followed him around like a shadow.

All he could do was to live out his normal life, herding, trading, protecting, and waiting for his destiny to unfold before him. This was immensely frustrating for a pro-active, go-getting man like Ira who loved nothing more than to jump on an idea right away and turn it into a reality. There was only one thing he could do to take him closer to that destiny.

“Writing tonight, Abe?” he asked.

“It’s the middle of the night!” Abe said.

“No time like the present,” Ira said, though the truth was he felt he might boil up with frustration if he didn’t do something to get him closer to his elusive dreams.

Learning to read and write was a tangible step he could take toward their realization. As a child, he had not stayed at the school long enough to learn to read and write because his mother removed him from the school when he was six and they came out to the West to seek their fortune in Gold Creek, Wyoming.

“I’m ready to learn when you’re ready to teach,” he said to Abe.

“If it’s what you want I’ll do it tonight,” said Abe, then grinned. “I don’t want to get on the wrong side of my boss, do I?”

“Darn right,” Ira joked, shaping his hand like a gun and pointing it at Abe’s head. “Or you’ll be on your way to heaven before you can say Colt Browning.”

“You think this madman’s going to heaven?” Curtis joked, mischief in his eyes. “He’ll be dancing with the devil before the night’s out.”

“Hey!” Abe said, dead serious and so loudly that it startled the cows. “
Don’t
make jokes like that.”

Abe was the most religious, and most learned, of the three despite the fact he had been born a slave. He had been taught to read and write, in secret, by a preacher who had been imprisoned for his efforts.

“Don’t put me and the devil in the same sentence, you got it?” he said to Curtis.

“Yeah, yeah,” Curtis said, grinning all the while.

Once the cattle were safely secured in the barn, they headed back to Ira’s ranch.

“Well
I’m
sure not staying up for a reading lesson with you crazies,” said Curtis. “I’m hitting the hay.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Ira said, smiling. “Or we’d be stuck til sunrise before you could read a word.”

“Ha ha,” said Curtis, mirthlessly. “What time should I come to the ranch tomorrow, Ira?”

“Come at six,” Ira replied. “I want to get our barn straightened out and reinforced before the bandits target us next.”

It had finally arrived!

Mollie swooped down, her heart beating with excitement, and she scooped the envelope from where it had fallen upon the bare boards. She threw the stable-style door open and let the afternoon sun stream into the wooden house, her soul leaping with the joy of knowing that perhaps she would be able to save her mother’s life.

Their correspondence had been going so well that she dared to hope it might be possible. It turned out that Ira, though his handwriting was rather wobbly, was a very amenable man and an excellent marriage prospect. Not only was he wealthy, telling her he owned a large ranch as well as shares in a goldmine, but he was clearly not one of the unfeeling Western men she had previously imagined, strutting around the plains with closed minds and cold hearts and large guns. Rather, he was noble and courageous, confiding in her about how he and his friends drove away bandits, as well as his dreams to become an educator.

In the moments that she curled up in her bed or on the tiny porch’s single chair and allowed herself to get lost in his words, she found herself dangerously close to something that approached real affection. As she kneaded dough or swept the floor, her mind wandered quite of its own accord, conjuring up images of their future life together.
Mrs. Mollie King,
she thought before she could stop herself, as she read his letters over and over again.

Of course, she had not lost sight of her agenda. After all, she was faced every day by the bulge in her mother’s dress under which the tumor swelled, so it was impossible to forget her mission. Every time she received a letter from Ira, she opened the envelope with rapt anticipation, hoping against hope that the money from a train ticket would fall out of it. Her mother’s condition was worsening by the day and she knew she had to get the surgery fee quickly, so every exchange of letters that passed without an invitation saw her anxiety grow.

At one point, her desperation was such that she considered asking him outright for the money, abandoning the entire plan of going to Gold Creek, but she worried that he would never reply and that would be the end of the whole affair, her chances dashed. She decided she had to be there in person, for then surely a noble person such as Ira would not be able to turn away from her plight.

She stepped out into the sun and opened the new envelope, savoring every wonderful moment as she eagerly waited to find out what words he would bless her with this time. Would the long-awaited invitation and train fare be inside? The envelope felt too thin for the wad of cash she expected, but she dared to hope.

Yes! There it was!

A single, crisp $100 note was tucked inside the envelope next to the letter. Mollie jumped up and pumped her fist in the air.

“Yes!” she said, so loudly that people from the street stared at her. “Sorry, sorry.”

She rushed inside.

“Ma!” she called out.

“Yes?” her mother replied from upstairs.

Mollie sprinted up the stairs and into her mother’s bedroom, her eyes alight with joy and excitement.

“Ma! I’m going to get your money!”

Her mother sat up in bed.

“What? What do you mean?”

Mollie sat down on the bed and showed her the letter.

“Look, Ma, look!” she said. “I didn’t want to tell you before because I wasn’t sure if it was going to work out, but look, he’s sent the money and I can go down there and get the money for your operation and soon you’ll be all better.”

Her mother furrowed her brow and Mollie felt a little deflated.

“Ma, aren’t you happy?”

Her mother scanned the letter.

“But Mollie, there’s no mention of him giving you money here.”

“I know, Ma,” she said, “but I’m going to ask him when I get there.”

Her mother read on and her eyes widened.

“He declares his affection for you here,” she said. “Do you feel the same way?”

“No, no,” Mollie said, looking down at her hands. “I’m only going for the money.”

“So you are deceiving him?” her mother asked, her voice strained. “I didn’t bring you up like that.”

Mollie wondered how it could have all gone wrong so fast.

“But Ma, you
need
the money.”

“Not if we have to lie and cheat to get it.”

“I haven’t lied to him, Ma!” Mollie said. “And I do feel some affection for him!”

“Poppycock,” her mother said. “You are only saying that to save face.”

“But Ma!” Mollie said.

“You’re not going,” her mother said. “We’ll find the money another way.”

“How?!” Mollie said, near tears. “We’ve tried! Nothing works!”

“God will make a way.”

Mollie burst into tears and ran to her bedroom, leaving the letter on her mother’s bed. She paced her room for what seemed like hours, the frustration of everything mounting in her heart. The tears fell down her face in hot streams as if they would never end. It was as if there was nowhere to turn, no possible action she could take to make things better. She had never disobeyed her mother before and so it was a given that her romantic plan would never come to fruition, even though it was the only way she could think of that could save her mother.

She finally collapsed on her bed in despair, exhausted from crying. Tossing and turning, she didn’t even bother to shut the curtains as the room grew dark. She stared at the ceiling feeling numb and trapped and helpless. Her stepfather, Silas, poked his head around the door when he came back from work.

“Goodnight, Mollie,” he said.

“Night,” she said, surprised that there was enough strength left within her to speak.

Soon she could hear the gentle snores of her mother and stepfather from the room next door, and a revolutionary idea sprang to life within her.

She could disobey her mother.

The thought felt scandalous at first, sending her conscience racing overdrive as guilt pulled at her heart, but the strength of her desire to see her mother well again overpowered it without much of a fight. She made up her mind that if she had to disobey her mother, this was the only situation that made it plausible.

Getting up from the bed and avoiding the squeaky floorboard, she creeped around to pack a small case of dresses and undergarments, then headed into her mother and stepfather’s room. The moonlight streamed through the window and onto the envelope on her mother’s nightstand.

“Sorry, Ma,” Mollie whispered as she took the letter. “I love you.”

She snuck out of the room and down the stairs. Closing the front door behind her, she stepped out into the cool night air and took a deep breath. Her adventure had begun.

Throughout her long journey from Virginia to Gold Creek, which was made by an assortment of trains and wagons, Mollie watched the scenery change and felt her emotions change right along with it. The further west they traveled, the more rugged and wild the scenery became, as if it was urging her right out of her cautious old life and into an adventurous new one.

She had started the journey consumed with the guilt of disobeying her mother and realized with horror that she had not even left her a note, though she supposed it was obvious enough where she went. Yet as the landscape transformed into a rough, untamed beauty, she gained a new strength of conviction that propelled her out of her fear and headlong into confidence.

She felt almost certain that everything would go as planned as she played it out in her mind’s eye. She would take a stagecoach from the Ruby Ridge train station to his house in Gold Creek, just as he had instructed. Once they met each other, it would be love at first sight and they would rush into each other’s arms and declare their undying love for one another. They would have such a powerful instant rapport that she could tell him all about her mother’s need within minutes and, of course, he would agree to pay for the surgery. They would hop right back on the stagecoach to Ruby Ridge and make the long journey back to Virginia victorious and deeply in love.

So it came as rather a shock when, having ridden the rough terrain from Ruby Ridge to Gold Creek and paid the stagecoach driver, she came to Ira’s home to find it empty. She approached the front door and knocked and knocked and knocked again, calling out his name and wondering if the stagecoach driver had brought her to the wrong house. She walked around to the back but there was no sign of life whatsoever.

Making up her mind that she must have come to the wrong house, she decided to head into the town to get directions to where Ira actually lived, lugging her case along behind her. If any of the rumors of the West were true, she knew that the best place to visit would probably be the saloon.

The first person she saw was a cowboy who looked just like she had imagined they would from the reading she had done when she was younger. Just after her father had left for the West, she had immersed herself in books about gunslinging cowboys whenever she had missed him. They became larger than life figures as she equated them with her father, a symbol of success and pride.

“Howdy,” she said, trying to fit in.

“Hey there,” the cowboy replied.

“Do you know where Ira King lives?” she asked.

“Well sure, everyone knows that,” he said.

He pointed at the house she had just come from.

“Right there.”

Her head swimming, she just said, “Thanks,” and let him walk on.

She tried to calm herself. Maybe he was just out working. After all, although he had an idea of when she would be coming there was no way to know exactly. Maybe he just went out to the trading post for some supplies. It could be anything, she tried to remind herself, though somehow she couldn’t shake the sense that something was dreadfully wrong.

As she continued walking, the wooden buildings became closer and closer together and she stumbled upon the saloon. People milled around outside and gave her little more than a second glance, which she was glad for. She had always hated being stared at. Approaching the large wooden shutters that opened directly into the saloon, she took a peek inside, her heart racing. It was an intimidating thought that she would have to stride in there amongst all those cowboys and ask a question. She couldn’t see a single woman in the saloon and didn’t relish the prospect of becoming the first.

“You look lost,” said a gruff, drunken voice behind her.

She spun around to see a rotund man practically bursting out of his clothes and clutching a whiskey bottle in each hand. She fought her immediate instinct to turn and run.

“I’m… I’m looking for Ira King,” she said.

“Ahhh,” the man said drunkenly. “Ira… great man. He’ll be on the ranch. Abe. Curtis. Ira. Ranch.”

“Thank you,” she said, then pointed to the stretch of land beyond Ira’s house. “Is the ranch over there?”

The man burst out laughing, quite to Mollie’s confusion, then abruptly stopped, seemingly without any reason at all.

“Yeah,” he slurred.

“Thank you,” she said, then hurried away, uncomfortable being around someone so unpredictable.

By the time she got back to Ira’s, she was tired of carrying the case so she set it down on his porch before she took off out to the ranch. It was wonderful to step out into such a dramatic landscape, one more expansive than she had ever seen before having lived in an urban area of Virginia where the only view was of wooden shacks. Two imperious mountains jutted up into the sky just behind Gold Creek and gave her a feeling of safety, as if they were standing guard. She swung her arms out wide, enjoying the freedom and the breeze against her face. She had calmed down since she had found out that Ira was out on the ranch, leaving her heart free to imagine the glorious moment when she and Ira would finally hold hands and gaze deep into each other’s eyes.

Eventually she came to a wooded area between two hills. Deciding the hills were too steep to climb comfortably in her dress, she headed into the woods, assuming that she would come out the other side in due course and that’s where she would find Ira.

Twigs snapped and leaves rustled under foot as she swung around tree branches and looked up through the gently swaying canopy of healthy green leaves into the cloudless blue, smiling from ear to ear. Soon she heard the sound of horse hooves and found that her heart had begun to beat faster. She was finally to meet her beloved.

“Ira!” she called out, running toward where she heard the hooves. “Ira!”

But when she reached the source of the noise, she found that it was not Ira at all.