[2016] A Bride's Journey

by Christian Michael

  The man did, taking a step back, but his eyes narrowed at her. “Fine. I’ll let her go...for now.” Then he turned and left.

  Shaking, Alta fell into Simon’s arms relishing his strong embrace.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, “I didn’t see you were gone immediately.”

  “I don’t know what was wrong with that man, but I don’t think he was thinking clearly.” Alta leaned back to look into Simon’s handsome face and offered a shaky smile. “But I’m glad you were here.”

  His smile broadened and he held her close for a moment longer before releasing her and taking a step back. “Shall we?”

  She nodded and took his arm, thankful that God had provided such a wonderful, strong, and caring man.

  ***

  Simon’s heart was still pounding from the way the man had treated Alta. He was so thankful that he’d noticed she was missing when he did. Then again, he should have been next to her the whole time, something he would remedy for the future. It was proof that this town was in desperate need of the Lord.

  He let out a groan, almost not realizing he had until it was too late.

  “What’s wrong?” Alta said as they walked toward their picnic spot.

  He knew he had to tell her, but he’d hoped to spend a little more time in happiness before he needed to bring down the mood with his news.

  “It’s…nothing.”

  “I know that it’s not,” she said, her perceptive eyes picking up his emotions despite his mask of calm.

  “It’s not good news,” he said.

  “It’s all right. I can handle whatever you need to say.” Her chin rose subtly and he loved her even more for her strength.

  “Let’s sit and I’ll tell you.”

  They spread out the picnic supplies and sat in the shade of a large tree, the scent of nature overpowering every other sense. Simon loved it out here in Colorado even if the town of White River was fraught with criminals and lawless men. He’d been called here, of that he was certain. Or at least he had been.

  “Simon,” Alta said, her hand resting light on his arm. “Tell me what’s troubling you. I can see it in your eyes.”

  He loved that, even though they’d just met in person, he felt comfortable with her—like he knew her. And, I reality, he did know her, through her letters.

  “I had some bad news this morning before you came.” He remembered the feel of the letter in his hands, its solid weight feeling heavier than paper with its weighty contents. “I received word from the larger church that had sent me here, the one in Denver. It seems they no longer have the finances to support what I do here. Basically, I’m out of a job.”

  He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, the weight of what felt like his failure resting solidly on his shoulders. He couldn’t believe that, just like that, his job as pastor was snatched from him.

  “Oh, Simon,” she said, resting a cool, soft hand on his cheek and gently turning his head so he would look at her. “I’m so sorry.”

  Her vibrant blue eyes had a calming effect on him and he felt some of the pain recede. “I just feel like a failure. And here I’ve brought you out to be my wife and I don’t have a way to provide for us.”

  “God will be our provider,” she said without blinking. “He must have something else planned for you. Something even better.”

  Her words washed over him and he felt the anxiety in his chest lessen. How could she do that? Just a few words and he was renewed.

  “You’re incredible,” he said.

  They looked into each other’s gaze and, before he could stop himself, he’d leaned forward and captured her lips under his. It was a quick kiss, her purity in mind, but he couldn’t help himself. When he pulled back he saw surprise and pleasure on her face. The beautiful tinge of pink on her cheeks made her even lovelier.

  “I'm sorry,” he said, feeling sheepish now. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not in the least,” was her quick reply. She laughed at her boldness.

  “Alta,” he managed, his heart pounding in his ears, “I didn’t write this to you because I wanted to tell you in person.

  “Yes?” she said, leaning toward him in anticipation of what he would say.

  “I love you.” His words were strong. They came with the weight of forethought and passion from deep within. He hoped she could see that.

  “And I love you,” she replied, equally as earnest.

  They went back to their picnic but now Simon felt lighter than a feather. Alta was right; God must have something better planned.

  Chapter 3

  With the promise of another kiss from Alta and the reality that they would be married soon, Simon left the parish house—the one he would soon need to vacate—to go and pick up his bride. They would be married by the judge in town and then he would begin looking for another means of work. Maybe, if God allowed, he could work another job and still pastor his small flock in town.

  It would be a lot of work, especially knowing that he would want to spend as much time with Alta as possible, but he had no other options. He had always wanted to be a pastor, ever since he was a child, and God has seen fit to send him out from the church in Denver a few years back.

  White River was a difficult town and his flock hadn’t grown like they had expected it would, but the few who came were faithful. They did what they could to help support him, but his main funds came from the church in Denver.

  Well, not anymore.

  The morning sunshine mirrored Simon’s heart as he bounded up the steps to open the hotels front door.

  “Morning pastor,” someone said and he nodded their way. His mind was focused on his bride though. Sweet Alta with her hair like gold, her eyes like sapphires, and her lips pink like primrose. He laughed at himself, he was a lovesick fool—but that was all right with him.

  Inside the hotel he made his way past the front desk and down the hall, stopping at the second door and knocking twice. There was no reply. He frowned, knocking harder just in case Alta had somehow missed the first knock. When she didn’t reply that time either he wondered if she’d fallen asleep.

  Glancing left then right, he tried the door, but it was locked.

  His pulse picked up and he strode back to the entrance. Maybe he’d missed her and she was sitting in the lobby or in the restaurant? He looked around but didn’t see her. He even walked through the restaurant but saw now sign of her. Had she taken a walk maybe? Decided the morning air was too nice to pass up?

  That thought worried him. White River wasn’t a town where a young, unmarried woman should be walking around alone in. He expected that she understood that after the incident yesterday but maybe…

  Heart pounding and palms sweaty with worry, he raced to the front desk. “Have you seen the young woman from room three this morning?”

  The older, bespectacled man peered up at Simon. “Miss Bishop?”

  “Why, yes,” he said, surprised the man remember her name.

  “I know all of my customers, Pastor Lynch.”

  Simon forced a smile. “Yes. I see that you do. Could we please go check her room? I’m afraid she may have fallen ill or something.”

  “I’m not in the habit of opening up customer’s rooms…” He looked displeased and Simon could understand, but there was something wrong. He just knew it.

  “Please, sir, we were supposed to meet this morning. We’re…” he swallowed, “we’re getting married today.”

  A warm smile washed over the innkeepers face. “I see. Well, we can go check—together mind you. I’ll not be giving you the key.”

  “Oh, no sir. I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

  They made their way back down the hall at an infuriatingly slow pace and finally the man opened the door after knocking several times again.

  The room was in disarray, a chair toppled over and the bedcovers mussed, but not from sleep. On the other side of the room the window stood open.

  “No,” Simon gasped.

  It wa
s clear what had happened. Someone had kidnapped Alta.

  ***

  Alta groaned, her head pounding. She tried to open her eyes but they felt glued shut. Why did she hurt so much? And why was the world shifting under her? Trying to move, she felt her stiff arms connected behind her.

  She was tied up!

  Her eyes flew open and she gasped in surprise. She was in the bed of a moving wagon. Above her the canvas covering was stained from the weather and had been patched many times. She could just make out blue sky from the back opening and the shape of a large man sitting at the front.

  The urge to cry out, to scream for someone to help her, was strong but she didn’t want the man to know she had woken up just yet. There had to be a way for her to escape—

  The thought died just as quickly as it rose in her mind. She had no idea where she was and, by moving her arms to and fro, she could feel the shackles that bound her wrists. Actual metal cuffs, not rope that could be untied or possibly sawed through with a knife. This was…impossible.

  How had she gotten here? She thought back to the day before. It had been wonderful—the picnic with Simon, the leisurely walk back to the hotel, the dinner they had shared before he dropped her off at her room with a light kiss on the check and the promise of their wedding in the morning.

  It had all been too much to bear. She couldn’t sleep and instead paced her room back and forth until finally she had turned out her light, about to get into bed when there had been a sound at the window. In her haste to escape, she hadn’t been able to unlock her door and the key had fallen to the ground, hidden by the dark.

  Then the window had gone sailing up and a large man had come in. She’d tried her hardest to get away but he’d eventually knocked her out. Even at the memory her temple pounded in response making her feel sick to her stomach.

  She moved her arms again, rolling further onto her side until her numb limbs could gain better circulation. They were indeed shackled by metal and it seemed as if her feet were tied with rope. Pulling slowly, she found that her shackles were connected to the side of the wagon through a metal loop. There wasn’t even hope that she could pull free.

  “Yer awake.”

  The man’s voice startled her and her eyes flew to him. It was the same man from the day before. He was half turned in the bench seat, a scowl on his face and three red scratches running down one side of his face. She realized that they were from her nails. At least she’d fought back.

  “What have you done? Where are you taking me? Let me go!” She knew she sounded frantic, but she couldn't help it. Every part of her was trembling and she desperately wanted to be free—from the chains and from his gaze.

  “I’m taking you to Keystone—to be married,” he spat the last words out then turned his attention back to the road.

  To be married? But she was already engaged!

  “No! I’m already promised to someone. Take me back to White River immediately,” she demanded.

  Keeping his back to her he merely laughed. “Not likely.”

  “I demand—”

  He cut her off. “I don’t think yer in any place to demand anything, girly.”

  He was right and she knew it. She had to escape—somehow. Had to get back to Simon. Where was he? Had this man done something to him first? Hurt him in some way? She closed her eyes, resting her pounding head back against the hard wooden boards that covered the floor of the wagon.

  Lord, protect me.

  Chapter 4

  Simon drained the last of the water from his canteen. He’d need to find a stream to refill soon, but he was close. Very close.

  After overcoming his initial shock at finding Alta taken, he’d questioned everyone he could find. No one had known anything until he’d come to a stable hand at the blacksmith’s shop that had seen a man taking a woman to his wagon. The boy had noticed the sight because it looked like something was wrong with the woman besides the fact that it had been past midnight when he’d seen them.

  It gave Simon something to go on until he’d found someone else saying they’d seen the wagon leave town headed toward Keystone. It wasn’t much to go on but Simon had run out of options. He’d borrowed a horse, amassed a few provisions, and taken off after the wagon.

  The longer he was on the road the more clues he’d picked up. Passing one outpost, a haggard woman had said she’d looked in the back of the wagon and seen a woman tied up. She was old and couldn’t do anything about it, but Simon knew God had caused her to look so that he would know he was on the right path. That was the only explanation.

  Now though, he’d been riding for days and hadn’t caught sight of them. Had he passed them somehow? Had the man taken another direction?

  His horse slowed down as they came to a steep hill. Urging the beast on, they crested the ridge and he pulled the horse to a stop. The valley spread out below him and several miles ahead, he saw a wagon. His heart leapt in his chest. It had to be them! For fear of being seen, Simon directed the horse to the side of the main road, riding near trees and making his way as quickly as possible down the slope. Once there, he urged the animal on at a fast past. He wouldn’t come up on the wagon right away, but he needed to be close enough to determine what was happening. If Alta was all right. What type of precautions the man had taken.

  The ride was hard and by the time they were close enough to see the wagon through a corpse of trees, his horse was exhausted and he was thirsty, his mouth bone dry.

  Thankfully though, it seemed as if the man had pulled the wagon over. Were they stopping for the night? Simon prayed so.

  After drinking his fill, Simon tied up his horse near the small stream and made his way as soundlessly as possible toward the wagon. The man, a large, tall fellow with board shoulders and a perpetual scowl, lumbered around the camp, tossing out a bedroll and starting up a fire. Then, from the back of the wagon, he saw the man yank Alta out.

  His pulse surged and it took everything within him not to race forward and rescue her right then and there. But the six-shooter at the man’s hip and the rifle propped up against the wagon wheel told Simon that this guy was prepared—for anything.

  Despite the distance Simon could see how pale Alta’s features were. If the man had laid a hand on her—

  Simon had to tamp down his anger, the emotion boiling in his veins. He had to think with a clear, strategic head, not one bent on revenge or blinded by rage.

  The man yanked her toward a seat by the fire and, despite the dimming light, Simon could see her wrists were chained. Not just tied, but in chains. Who was this man? What was his intent? It seemed more planned out than just some man looking to steal a wife.

  They spoke, but he could see the distain on Alta’s face. She barely looked up from where her gaze drilled into the fire and he prayed that she wouldn’t lose her hope. He was so close; he would find a way to rescue her.

  Climbing up into a tree for a better vantage point, Simon watched. Soon the sun went down fully and, after a little while by the fire, the man hauled Alta up and shoved her into the back of the wagon again. Then, taking his rifle with him, he laid down by the fire.

  This was it. This was Simon’s chance. He had to go to her.

  ***

  Alta heard the man—Ed—snoring in his sleep and gave in to her tears. She wouldn’t let him see her cry, but when he was asleep she allowed herself to truly feel the fear she had. Though she hadn’t gotten much more out of him, it seemed he was taking her to Keystone to a man who had purchased a wife from him.

  Purchased. As if she were a cow or a horse.

  She could only assume that Ed spent his days traveling to distant towns stealing women for a profit. It sickened her and terrified her, because he was good at what he did. Thankfully he had an interest in keeping her relatively safe for the men, his clients as he said, so he hadn’t laid a hand on her. That was God’s protection she was sure.

  She shivered, the coldness of the night not completely staved off by the thin blanket Ed h
ad given her.

  Where was Simon? Was he all right? She had thought about him constantly through the grueling days of wagon travel, her stiff joints protesting at every bump and jolt. She prayed he was all right.

  She also prayed that she would have the strength to escape the first chance she got. Chains or no chains, she would run away from Ed the minute she could. The Lord would protect her, she knew it, she just needed the opportunity.

  Closing her eyes, the sound of nighttime creatures surrounded her. It was still out here on the road and, though she wanted to be anywhere but with Ed, she had to admit the limitless sky full of stars held her attention every night.

  Then something not fitting the normal nighttime sounds alerted her to a change. A branch cracking. The rustle of leaves. Was it an animal? Should she wake up Ed?

  No. She wouldn’t call out to him no matter what.

  Then she heard it again, but closer to the back of the wagon. Heart pounding, she tried to slow her breathing to hear more clearly. What was—

  “Alta.”

  The whisper was so faint she almost thought she’d imagined it.

  “Alta?”

  Then she heard it again and knew she wasn’t dreaming. Wasn’t making this up. “Simon?”

  His face appeared at the back of the wagon, a dark shape highlighted by faint moonbeams and the embers of the dying fire.

  Her world skidded to a halt. This couldn't be. How had he found her? Tears flooded her vision but she couldn't move, frozen to the spot.

  “Are you all right?” he spoke quietly so as not to wake up Ed.

  She couldn’t move. Could hardly breathe. He was here!

  “S-Simon, is that really you?”

  “It is,” came his soft reply. She wanted to rush forward and wrap her arms around her but more than her chains held her still. Her fear of Ed hearing him was even greater than the pain that would come from tugging against the restraints.

  “I’m c-chained up,” she said.

  “I know. I saw.” His voice, impossibly soft, still held the heavy weight of grief. But he was alive. That kept circling through her thoughts. Thank the Lord; he was alive!