Brokken Redeemed
A Novella
Brokken Road Romances
Book 6
Abagail Eldan
Table of Contents
Title Page
Brokken Redeemed
December 1867 | Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Brokken Redeemed © 2019 Sheila Hollinghead
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Scripture taken from the King James Version.
Any discrepancies in the timeline between Brokken Arrow and the other novels in The Brokken Road series are entirely my doing. Working with several other authors and attempting to keep an unbroken timeline for when characters arrived in our fictional little town in Texas proved to be a challenge. In a few places, that timeline needed to be twisted a bit.
There are also minor characters in this series who appear in several of the stories. As with the timeline, there may be discrepancies in how those minor characters are portrayed from book to book.
All covers designed by Carpe Librum Book Design, owned by cover designer, Evelyne Labelle.
Visit our Brokken Western Historical Readers Group on Facebook and Facebook page Brokken Road Western Historical Romances.
December 1867
Chapter One
The coldness seeped into Chance Hale’s bones as it had done four long years ago, when he’d wintered in a field near Nashville. His time with the Union army had been so long ago, and yet he carried it within him wherever he went, forever near, forever present, even as he bedded down the horses.
He’d kept to himself that winter of the War, an outcast, he’d thought. Now, he knew better. The other soldiers had been in awe of him, feared him as some feared a ghost. God’s hand had been upon him, and that frightened many folks, even God-fearing ones.
The light of the campfire drew his gaze. Chance shook his head at the foolishness as he bent to tie the hobbles around the legs of the horses. He’d argued with Deborah’s pigheaded brother against building a fire, for all the good it’d done. They’d ridden long and hard and needed to leave at first light. They should have been in their bedrolls by now, instead of sitting around a campfire. The sound of Fritz, Deborah, and Klint Caper’s voices drifted to him. Who knew how far that sound traveled?
For two men who had fought in the same war he had, they should’ve known better. This careless—no, reckless—behavior was going to get them killed.
He debated a moment on whether to join the three or head to bed. It was Deborah, more than the warmth of the fire, that drew him. He took a seat across from the three and stretched out his legs. Now that the fire was made, it wouldn’t hurt to get warm, even though he needed to keep his guard up. Old habits died hard, and he deliberately settled into a position where he could see the others from the corner of his eye without gazing directly into the fire and losing his night vision.
Deborah was next to her brother on a blanket pulled close to the fire. Her brother and Klint were seated next to her, one on each side, all of them watching the flickering flames.
Chance tamped down his anger, and some other emotion he had difficulty identifying. He pulled up a name for it ... jealousy. He didn’t like Deborah sitting so close to Klint. Even now, Klint leaned forward, tilted his head, and flashed his dimples at her. Chance rubbed a toe of his boot into the dirt and crossed his arms, looking in the direction of the horses, although they were hidden behind the trees. His jaw clenched until it ached.
This had been a fool’s errand. Why had he allowed Klint to talk him into this? Before they arrived at their destination, Deborah would be sharing that blue-eyed devil’s bedroll. He cast a sideways glance in Deborah’s direction.
She leaned against her brother and settled a hand on his arm. “Lydia will be fine, Fritz.”
“Lydia said she was not a good horsewoman. What if her horse throws her?” Fritz lifted his head and frowned at Chance, as if somehow it was his fault.
Klint laughed. “She’s been around horses her entire life. She was being modest.”
Chance couldn’t picture the always impeccably dressed Lydia Walsh mucking out a stall, much less riding, but to be fair, she’d gotten the horses ready for them. He frowned at Klint’s easy laugh but agreed with him. Surely, she knows how to ride since her family owns the livery.
Fritz turned to look over his sister’s head to Klint. “Why would she insist on returning to town?”
Chance almost felt sorry at the despair evident in his voice. Fritz’s eyes glittered in the light from the flames of the fire.
Deborah patted her brother’s arm. “Lydia gave us a head start, thought she could lead the sheriff on a wild goose chase. It will surely help us.”
Fritz met Chance’s eyes in a challenge as he wrapped an arm around Deborah’s shoulders. “Deborah should have stayed with her.”
Chance held Fritz’s gaze but did not deign to answer. Yet, his conscience stabbed him. It was his fault Deborah had made the decision to ride with them. He feared what would happen if she returned to town, after breaking them out of jail, but hadn’t he put her in more danger by persuading her to accompany them?
Lydia probably had been arrested as soon as she entered town, and her humiliation would have been easier to bear with a friend, with Deborah. And wouldn’t being in jail be safer for both? He shrugged. It was too late now, and he hadn’t forced Deborah, had he?
No, he’d only made her feel sorry for him, sorry enough to accompany them instead of riding back with Lydia. He’d made progress, learned to forgive himself for what he’d done in the War, and yet, guilt assailed him, ambushed, assaulted him with feelings of worthlessness.
Deborah’s tender heart yearned to mend his own, and he’d manipulated that heart by his behavior.
He inhaled deeply and breathed out a sigh. A future with a clean conscience, with a chance at true happiness, hung out of reach, like the fruit above Tantalus, forever taunting him.
Deborah wriggled from her brother’s hold. “If you are accusing Chance of forcing me to come, you could not be more wrong. I did it on my own volition.”
Fritz laughed harshly. “So, are you saying if it’d just been Klint and me, you would have joined us?”
“Yes! Curt and Karl are my brothers, too.” A stubborn look made her mouth twist upward at one corner.
Skepticism crossed Fritz’s face. For once, Chance agreed with Fritz’s assessment. If not for him, Deborah would be safely in town, even if under house arrest. Chance moved guiltily. Part of it had been he’d wanted Deborah with him, could not bear to be parted from her. He snorted. He was a lovesick moron.
A movement in the brush caught his eye. He was already on his feet, pulling
his knife from its sheath. “Shh...”
“Don’t kill them, Chance. It may be someone from town,” Deborah pleaded.
He shushed her and moved forward. Even though he’d kept his eyes turned from the direct flames, he found it almost impossible to see. There was no moon, and clouds obscured the stars.
He crept silently, one hand before him, the knife in his other hand by his side, his muscles tensed and ready.
He paused and strained his ears to hear. He startled when Fritz spoke beside him.
“Probably just a rabbit.” He’d not bothered to keep his voice down, and Chance shot him a glare that Fritz could not see.
Chance felt, rather than saw, a figure dart past them, heading away from camp, in the direction of the horses.
He ran, not after the figure, but toward the horses, to stop whoever it was from stealing them. “Get the rifle,” he whispered harshly to Klint, over his shoulder.
As he approached, the horses stamped their feet and neighed softly. Whoever or whatever Chance had seen was not in the vicinity. Klint, rifle in his hands, came panting up beside him.
“Where are they?” he whispered.
Chance shrugged and realized Klint probably couldn’t see him. “I don’t know about ‘they.’ I only saw one.”
“Where did he go?” Klint was now fully alert, his gaze darting around.
“No idea. You go that way, and I’ll check over here.” He pointed to his left, and Klint gave a short nod and obeyed.
After a few minutes, Chance called off the search. They were wasting precious time. Whoever it had been may have left to bring back reinforcements.
He called Klint over. “Help me saddle the horses.”
“What? We’re leaving?” It was too dark to see Klint’s face, to read his expression.
Chance was tired and wished he could ignore whoever it had been but knew from experience that would be unwise. “What other choice do we have?”
He’d already bent to remove the ropes from one of the horse’s legs. His eyes had acclimated to the dark, or perhaps some of the clouds had dispersed, to allow more stars to appear overhead, affording him greater light. His gaze swept the area. Nothing seemed amiss. What if he’d imagined the figure? Or what if it had been a rabbit? No, whatever it was, it’d been large, upright, not an animal.
Besides, the horses’ ears were pricked, perhaps from an outsider’s presence. Just as likely, it was from Chance’s actions.
Klint grumbled a bit, but they got the horses saddled and went back toward the campsite and the fire. Deborah and Fritz were nowhere to be seen. For a moment, his heart beat a harsh tattoo at the base of his throat until the brother and sister emerged from the brush.
Deborah came up to him and placed a hand on his arm. “We’ve looked around and didn’t see anyone.”
Fritz frowned at him. “Why are the horses saddled?”
Klint answered for him. “Chance thinks we need to leave.”
Fritz’s frown deepened. “That’s nonsense. We have to get some sleep, or we’ll be dead tired tomorrow.”
“Someone was in the brush. Could have been the Andrews Gang. I heard they were in the area.” Chance spoke softly and dipped his head. He did not wish to frighten Deborah.
“Last I heard, they were down near the Mexican line. Besides, I saw no one,” Fritz said, his voice a growl.
Klint’s eyes crinkled, as if amused. “You’re here now, Fritz. Why couldn’t they be, too? We don’t want to get entangled with them. They’d as soon kill you as look at you.”
Fritz snorted. “The Andrews Gang? Why would they be here? Chance saw no one—just his imagination running wild.”
Maybe it was Fritz’s doubt that strengthened his belief, but Chance was now certain someone had scouted the camp.
“Let’s unsaddle the horses,” Fritz said, giving a nod to Klint.
Klint hesitated and looked from one to the other. Deborah, casting a glance at Chance, moved away to stand by her brother.
Fritz moved forward to take the reins from Klint’s hands and then uncinched the saddle.
Deborah tilted her head toward Chance. “I’m too tired to think straight. All the stress we’ve been through. I’m sure your imagination played tricks on you, Chance.”
“I’m not going anywhere tonight,” Fritz said firmly and pulled the saddle from his horse.
A muscle in Chance’s jaw twitched and made him aware that he clenched his teeth. He looked from Fritz to Deborah. Her hands were clasped in front of her.
“Deborah?” He kept his voice strong and firm yet questioning.
“Yes?” In the darkness, her chin tilted.
Dang it. She was going to make him say it. “I’m leaving. Are you coming with me?”
Instead of answering, she looked to Fritz. “Will you come with us, Fritz?”
“Go, but I’m staying here. I need to rest.” He held Lucky’s reins. Lucky, the horse Deborah had chosen for Lydia’s sister to train, shook his head and gave a snort.
Chance fiddled with the reins he still held. His muscles were so tense, he ached. “Deborah.” This time it was not a question but a challenge.
“I can’t leave Fritz. He’s the one in charge.” Her voice also had strengthened with resolve.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. As far as he knew, they could be surrounded. “I’m not staying. I can’t when there was someone watching us, may still be watching.”
Deborah’s shoulders stiffened, and her glance traveled to each man in turn. “Did anyone else see anything?”
“There was no one. I’m sure of it.” Fritz’s gaze met Chance’s again, the challenging evident, even in the darkness, with only the campfire providing enough light to see.
He was not going to allow Fritz’s pigheadedness to get them killed. “We need to go, and we need to go now.”
Klint stepped forward, as if to keep the peace. “What if we took turns on guard?”
Chance was beyond angry. “Do what you want. I’m leaving. Come with me, if you want or stay.” His words were for Deborah, but she did not answer.
Klint spoke instead. “You and I can ride ahead, Chance. Deborah and Fritz can catch up with us, or we’ll double back.”
Chance’s only answer was to walk forward, leading his horse away from them.
Deborah called out. “Wait.”
He stopped but did not turn. She came beside him and placed a hand on his arm.
He licked his lips, and his voice was hoarse when he spoke, husky with hurt. “We need to leave, Deborah.”
“But can’t we set up guard, like Klint said?” She was close enough that he could see tears stood in her eyes.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. Their bodies melded as one. His lips found her warm ones, and he kissed her. His arms tightened around her, and his kiss intensified, until Fritz made a scoff and brought him to his senses.
Deborah’s breathing was ragged when he released her. “Chance. Please.” She took a wavering step back and held out her hands in a plea. “Don’t go.”
He forced himself forward, away from Deborah, and fought to control the emotions swirling through him.
All he knew was he couldn’t stay. He mounted his horse, and his hands shook but he willed them to still. Tears pricked the back of his eyes, but what could he do? They were all going to be killed in their sleep if they didn’t go. Deborah moved up beside his horse, her face upturned.
His heart twisted, almost from his chest. “Come with me,” he pleaded.
She shook her head. “I can’t leave Fritz. He said he won’t go even if I do. Please understand.”
Without answering, he urged the horse forward, forcing Deborah back. As soon as he dared, he dug his heels into the horse’s sides. The cold wind grew colder as he galloped away, piercing his lungs, and he pulled up his bandana to help filter the coldness.
After a few minutes, he reined the horse to a trot. His heart had grown jagged edges, sending pang
s through him. How could one woman affect him so? And how could he have left her in danger?
He had no idea what lay ahead, and there was no need in riding pell-mell into the unknown. He slowed the horse to a walk. The clouds had dispersed enough to allow dim starlight to filter through.
He rode about half an hour when Klint caught up with him. “You’re a fool, Chance Hale.”
“Why?” Chance didn’t look in Klint’s direction.
“You should have waited for me. What if you’d ridden toward the sheriff? Or stumbled upon the Andrews Gang? Alone? We don’t know who that was spying on us.”
Chance’s shoulders relaxed. At least Klint believed he’d seen someone. They rode along in silence, heading south, as far as Chance could judge. The stars played hide and seek with the clouds, more often hidden than not, leaving him confused. He wished daylight would arrive to give him a better idea.
At least Klint’s arrival had slowed his heartbeat to normal, although his fear did not abate. As soon as it was daylight, they’d circle back and make sure Deborah and Fritz were safe. He berated himself for leaving her, but they’d be reunited soon. He comforted himself with the thought.
The clouds completely obscured the stars, and darkness stretched before them, as if they rode into black velvet. Only this velvet was freezing cold. He reminded himself he’d been in colder places, much colder. Maybe it was the fear within that made the coldness penetrate so deeply. The fear of losing Deborah? That could not, would not happen.
Klint was unusually quiet. Perhaps he was worried, too. Chance longed for the rising of the sun, prayed for it, but it did not materialize. It was as if time stood still. He’d almost given up hope when the thin rays of the morning’s light shone directly ahead of them.
But it did not cheer him for it showed they were heading in the wrong direction.
Chapter Two
Deborah had watched Chance ride away into the dark. For a moment, numbness kept her confined to the spot. No not numbness. Numbness would have been preferable to the pain that racked her body. Her very being ached with an emotion she could not name.
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