The Mail Order Bride by R. Kent

Author:R. Kent [Kent, R]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781635556773
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2020-01-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“What’s happening out there?” I asked as the pastor lurched into the church tent. The sun was shining brightly, near to its zenith. I must have fallen asleep toward dawn. I had slept right through morning.

“The town’s quiet. A crowded posse is out looking for you.” He squirmed onto a bench across from me. From an opened cloth in his hand, the pastor offered bread, cheese, and apples. I shook my head.

The pastor mulled the selection over like it was the most important decision of his life, then popped a bite of cheese into his mouth. After he swallowed, he said, “I stay in Molasses Pond to show McKade that he can’t run me off.” A hunk of bread had his interest next. He ripped the bread in half. “McKade took someone from me. Not much I can do about that. I’m not a fighting man. I’m not even a brave man. All I can do is stay to be a reminder of what he’s done.” His hand strayed to his watch pocket. “I stay. And I wait.”

I stomped toward the front tent flaps, doubtful McKade had any care for anything he’d done. Never mind dwelling on one pastor’s nuisance.

The pastor continued. “Nothing left he can take from me. Except my life. And he knows that.” The pastor cut his teeth into the torn piece of crusty bread.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek until it bled. A gust fluttered the tent flap. I eased it open.

“You can’t,” he said, choking on the dry mouthful. The pastor flipped the cloth over his bounty and tucked it into his coat. “McKade’s got men standing outside the Watering Hole. They can see clear down Main Street to here, and then some.”

“I need to get to Sahara.” I needed to see her. I needed to know she was safe. I needed to tell her… I wanted to tell her—

“There he is. In the church.”

I burst from the tent, sprinting toward the livery.

A burly bunch of men gave chase. They wore six-shooters tied down. I could hear their spurs chink and jingle.

I was tackled and pinned to the ground. My arms were wrenched cruelly behind my back. I thought they would pop from their sockets. My face mashed into the mud as my hands were tied. My lower lip split. I tasted grit and blood. Their metallic tangs coated my tongue.

I didn’t have to walk. They dragged me down Main Street. At the Watering Hole, my knees bumped the step up. The tops of my moccasins scraped and scuffed along the floorboards through the saloon, to a private room on the side.

“Where’s the girl?” McKade asked as his men propped me in front of him. He backhanded me before I had a chance to answer. Not that I was planning to.

I spit a wad of mud and blood from my mouth.

He punched me in the nose. The crunch echoed in my head.

“I want the girl. Here.” When he socked me in the gut, I fell to my knees.

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