by Chloe Carley
A Feisty Gracious Bride For the Rancher
STAND-ALONE NOVEL
A Christian Historical Romance Novel
by
Chloe Carley
Copyright© 2019 by Chloe Carley
All Rights Reserved.
This book may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the written permission of the publisher.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher
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Table of Contents
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A Feisty Gracious Bride For the Rancher
Letter from Chloe Carley
"Once upon a time..."
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Ready to start your next Romance story?
Unlocking the Deputy's Heart
Chloe Carley
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Also by Chloe Carley
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Letter from Chloe Carley
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"Once upon a time..."
...my best childhood nights had started with this beautiful phrase!
Ever since I can remember, I loved a good story!
All started thanks to my beloved grandfather! He used to read to my sister and me, stories of mighty princes and horrifying dragons! Even now, sometimes I miss those cold winters in front of the fireplace in my hometown, Texas!
My best stories though were the ones from the Bible! Such is the spiritual connection that a sense of warmth pass through my body every time I hear a biblical story!
My childhood memories were not all roses, but I knew He would always be there for me, my most robust shelter!
Years passed by, and little-Chloe grown up reading all kind of stories! It was no surprise that I had this urge to write my own stories, and share them with the world!
If I have a God's purpose on Earth, I think it is to spread His love and wisdom, through my stories!
Now, it is your time to read my Best Seller Novel “A Feisty Gracious Bride For the Rancher”!
Brightest Blessings,
Prologue
Northern Texas, May 1856 …
Gideon Lawson, aka Red—for his dark red hair—hunkered down behind the corral, wishing he and his gang had left the area at sunrise like they’d originally planned. It was a tight fit for his broad shoulders and tall height, and he forced his legs to bend a bit further, not wanting to ruin a perfectly good hat by getting bullet holes in it.
For the last three years he’d been riding with a group of misfits that had turned into outlaws in order to survive.
It wasn’t the life he’d planned for himself when he’d left his father’s ranch, but he’d learned that life didn’t always go the way you hoped. It sometimes took a drastic turn that left you feeling like you were headed for a waterfall with no way to stop. That’s what he felt like today.
For a few minutes, he allowed himself the luxury of thinking about how he’d come here. At first, he had only been a gun for hire.
Gideon had enlisted him to search for other outlaws, excited over the adventures he was going to have. Rustlers had been killing and stealing cattle from a ranch down by where Arizona and Texas met.
He’d loved the excitement and the hint of danger, and with his sharp shooting skills, it hadn’t taken long to apprehend the outlaws and hand them over to the authorities.
That’s when things had taken a wrong turn. His skills had no longer been needed and he’d set out for the next town, hoping to find similar work. He’d come up with nothing.
He’d hooked up with his current friends outside of town, and together, they’d tried to make a life for themselves--but with no jobs, no lands, and no prospects, things had gotten bad. So bad, that two of his new friends had robbed a stagecoach, killing the driver and terrorizing the passengers.
Gideon had been horrified when he’d ridden into town a few days later and found all four of them were `wanted for the murder and robbery.
He’d hightailed it back to their camp with a posse hot on his tail. Thus had begun two years of criminal behavior.
Stagecoaches had been robbed, wagon trains had been detoured and robbed, and the four friends had become a tight knit group of outlaws, roving the Texas countryside and trying to survive. It wasn’t the life Gideon had ever dreamed of having, but it was his only means of survival.
Gideon had left his father’s ranch, abandoning his birthright and his brother, in search of fame and fortune in the untamed territories of the Wild West.
The dime store novels he’d been reading about Marshalls and Texas Rangers had blinded him to the harsh realities that awaited him. Feeling like a failure, and ashamed of his criminal actions, he slink back home. He didn’t think he could bear to see the disappointment in his parents’ eyes.
“Red, they’ve got us pinned down,” Lou called from behind a cluster of rocks. They were currently at a small homestead cabin with a box canyon behind them.
Red pulled his thoughts back to saving his backside, turned around, and peered over the wood of the corral, ducking down when a bullet shattered the post mere inches from his head.
He pulled off his hat, looking for holes, and breathed a sigh of relief when he found none. “Boys, we’re going to need to make a run for it.”
“How are we supposed to do that? The horses are on the other side of that lynch mob,” Hobbs pointed out. The man was the oldest of the bunch and had seen his fair share of gunfights before he’d hooked up with Gideon and the others. Dark, weathered skin told of th
e hard life he’d led; the black braids spoke of a Mexican heritage common in these parts of Texas. Hobbs’ mother had been from Mexico and had fallen in love with a cavalryman. He spoke fluent Spanish and more often than not was mistaken for an Indian until people got right up close to him. He was a good fella to have around and was full of wisdom about living off of the land.
“Well?” Hobbs demanded, waiting for Red's orders.
Red was their unofficial leader and he felt a responsibility to come up with a plan to get them out of this pickle. They’d been lying low since robbing the stagecoach headed for Santa Fe over a week ago.
They’d thought they were in the clear, but Hobbs had ridden into town the day before and then raced back with news that a lynch mob had been formed and was thundering after them. He thought he’d gotten away without anyone seeing him, but the presence of the lynch mob here this early in the morning told a different story.
“Hobbs, you and Lou go around to the east. I’ll make a dash for those trees and draw their fire. Grab the horses and Finn, and I will climb out of the canyon and meet you at the river by the washout.”
Hobbs gave him a dubious look, but a fresh volley of bullets provided all the motivation he needed. He crawled to where Lou was taking shelter and once he’d explained the plan, he nodded at Red.
Red took a deep breath and then fixed his eyes on the trees where Finn was hiding. The spot was only about thirty yards off, but he’d be dodging bullets the entire way. He cracked his neck and bolted for the trees, his long legs eating up the distance. Bullets hit the dirt all around him, sending up shards of rock pelting his body as they returned to the ground.
A sharp pain in his shoulder told him he’d taken a bullet, but he didn’t have time to stop and evaluate the injury.
He still needed to reach the shelter of the trees so that the others could get to the horses. He dove the last ten feet. His breathing rushing out as he hit the dirt hard, but he turned his head at the last moment and saw Hobbs and Lou silently leading their horses away.
“Red, are you plum crazy?” Finn asked.
“It was all part of the plan,” Red told him. “They’ve got the horses free. We need to make a run for the back of the canyon and climb our way out of here.”
“You are crazy. That canyon wall’s probably several hundred feet tall. There ain’t no way we can climb out of here before they riddle us with bullets.” Finn’s Irish accent was very noticeable when he was agitated and, right now, Red could barely understand what he was saying.
Finn and Lou were brothers who had emigrated from Ireland, only to arrive and find that the American dream of land took money and perseverance.
They’d not had any money and had sought to remedy that situation by robbing a bank in Missouri. Gideon hadn’t found out they had a price on their heads until they’d been travelling with him and Hobbs for six months.
They were the ones who had robbed the stagecoach and sent Gideon on this path, but he didn’t feel like he could abandon them. They were like family now. A family that committed crimes together…
“You ain’t even listening to me,” Finn complained, his accent thick and his face showing grave concern. “There’s has to be another way outta here.”
Red said harshly, “There’s not.” He then pointed toward the canyon wall. “We have to at least try--or have you taken a liking to a noose around your neck?”
Finn swallowed and then shook his head, “Fine. Better to die trying than to die a coward.”
Red looked at his shoulder. The bullet had just grazed him, cutting through his clothing and leaving a trough in his skin that was bleeding, but not profusely. It hurt but he couldn’t let that slow him down. His very survival was at stake here.
“Finn, go and I’ll hold them off for a few minutes to give you a head start.” Finn and Lou were both short compared to Red, just barely measuring six feet tall in with their boots on. It would take Finn a much longer time to climb up than it would Red.
Finn took off running into the canyon. Red fired bullets at the mob, but soon his ammunition was gone, and he took off running himself. Finn was only halfway up the cliff, his boots slipping on the rocks and sending them crashing down upon Red’s shoulders and the ground below.
Red could hear Finn cursing as his feet slipped again, but Red was too busy trying to find places to put his own hands and feet to care about that. The mob was coming after them; he could hear their yells and the ricochet of bullets getting closer.
Red was almost halfway up the cliffside when voices called from directly below. Finn had almost reached the top but, as Red watched, a bullet caught him in the back, and he lost his hold on the rocks.
“Finn!” Red called, but he was too far away to help.
Finn fell backward with a scream. Red could only watch as his friend plummeted to the mob below, landing on the hard-packed earth with a sickening crunch. His head twisted at an odd angle and his eyes stared blankly at the sky. Finn was gone.
Red bit back tears and forced himself to climb faster. He veered to his left, using the scrub brush growing out of the rocks to offer him some limited shelter from the bullets that were still being directed his way.
He finally reached the top, but he couldn’t stop and gather his strength. Lou and Hobbs would be at the river by now, and they would only wait a short time before leaving to protect themselves. He hastily wrapped a bandana around his upper arm and set off.
Red kept to the trees as much as possible and carefully made his way across the barren landscape. Large rocks and clumps of pinyons and sage brush dotted it, providing little in the way of shelter from the scorching sun. He could feel his lips cracking and could already taste the coolness of the river water.
A line of trees up ahead grew along the banks of the life-giving water. It was the only surface water for miles, and animals and plants alike sought its banks for survival. He was almost to the place where he had told Hobbs to wait for him when the sound of gunfire and horses drew his attention.
He climbed up a small mesa, lying on his belly and watched as part of the lynch mob surrounded his two friends.
It wasn’t long before the mob had both of his friends off their horses and their hands bound behind their backs. Red’s mind was spinning with how to help Hobbs and Lou. With so many angry men present, he couldn’t fight for their freedom.
The only option was to follow them back to town and try to break them out of the small jail cell there.
He’d have to hurry because he still didn’t have his horse, but it would likely be a day or two before the circuit judge could be called and their sentence pronounced. He’d have them out before the townsfolk had finished constructing the gallows in the center of the main street.
Red lay there on the hot earth, watching as the mob harassed his friends, slapping them around and taunting them into reacting. “Hobbs, keep your head. Don’t give them a reason to shoot you.”
Hobbs had a violent temper, and self-control wasn’t a word in his vocabulary. If anyone could incite the lynch mob to forget their purpose, it would be him. Red could barely make out the sounds of Hobbs cursing the mob in Spanish, which only served to make them more aggressive.
Red watched while his arm throbbed in time to his beating heart. A heart that was grieving for the loss of Finn.
He’d almost fallen asleep, his body needing the respite to heal both physically and mentally, when shouts came from down by the river. He roused himself and could only watch in horror as the lynch mob began to get riled up. They hadn’t returned to town, and now Red knew why.
New riders had joined them. Red couldn’t be sure, but they looked like the same men who had been shooting at him and Finn in the box canyon.
