Love & Redemption by Suzanne D. Williams

Author:Suzanne D. Williams
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical fiction, western, saga, Christian fiction, 19th century, series, romantic suspense, inspirational romance, multicultural
Publisher: Suzanne D. Williams
Published: 2016-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

The broad waters of the river swallowed the horse’s footprints within its tannic depths, then continued sluicing its way across the wild landscape. Michael tugged his head from his chest, fighting tiredness. This was by far the biggest body of water they’d encountered, and continuing eastward, there’d been many. Circumnavigating the larger lakes, they’d forded streams and waded through marshland, keeping a wary eye out for alligators. This river stretched wider than the rest. There’d be no easy way across here.

“How are you going to manage it?” he asked.

“In a boat,” Chief replied.

The mention of a boat pulsed new life into Michael’s flagging muscles. Scanning the shoreline, he searched amongst the angular trunks of the bald cypress forest for any evidence of water craft. He saw none.

“What’ll you do with the horses?”

His own mount was probably not of much value, but Chief’s, on the other hand, was a handsome beast and worth her penny. Chief ignored his question and urged the horses forward.

They followed the shoreline, halting before a small wooden shack. Measuring barely six-feet square, it was mired deep in the muddy riverbank. Chief dismounted, and the rickety door slung open. A dark-skinned fellow filled the doorway. He wore an unusual mixture of clothing: knee-length britches, a V-necked blouse with an enormous ruffle around the sleeves, and on his head, a red bandana.

Then there was the necklace. Hung on a narrow leather strap, four white alligator teeth spiked deep into the fellow’s neck. He raised his hand in salute. “You come for skins,” he stated, giving a nod at the wall.

The wall of the shack was as colorful as the man. Alligator skins, tanned and trimmed, hung from floor to ceiling.

Chief tossed his head. “We need passage, old friend.”

At that, the man shifted his gaze to Michael’s wrists. “Two dollars,” he said.

Chief’s countenance shaded crimson and blood-vessels popped up across his skull. “Two dollars!” he sputtered, spittle flying.

The man shrugged and laid his hand on the door. “You go then.” He stepped back in the doorway.

“All right. All right,” Chief blurted. “Two dollars, but you’d better throw in care for the horses until I return.”

The man nodded and, after Michael was hastily dismounted, stowed the horses in a rickety lean-to. Four spindly posts held aloft a pitted piece of tin. Securing the horses to the posts, the man waved toward the river and a small wooden boat tethered to a tree.

Michael’s stomach twisted. “That won’t float,” he said. The craft had definitely seen better days. Its wooden sides warped and bulged from years of use.

Chief scowled.

“Well, it won’t,” Michael continued. It’d sink for sure. But drag his feet though he might, he hadn’t any other choice but to settle in the boat’s stern. The tiny craft plummeted into the water, the weight of its new cargo bearing it downward, and a puddle quickly formed at Michael’s feet.

The dark-skinned man seemed unconcerned and struck deeper into the channel, his arms rising and falling regularly with his efforts. The further they moved, however, the more the current increased until he couldn’t keep up.

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