Her Fearless Love (Seeing Ranch Mail Order Bride) (A Western Historical Romance Book)

by Florence Linnington

  She would pretend that Margaret had promised to leave her a basket of cloth near her front door and that, upon going to the empty home and looking for the basket, she had not found it.

  Have you perhaps seen it? Bonnie would ask.

  A simple plan. One that would open the door to a larger conversation about the Hawkins’ land. Or so Bonnie hoped.

  At the sight of Mr. Percy’s cabin, Bonnie stopped walking. The heavy feeling in her stomach increased, and she looked over both her shoulders. The road was empty, the first hints of twilight coming upon the land.

  It was never a good idea to be out by herself past dark, and these dangerous times made such an act even more unfavorable.

  But, Bonnie was determined. Steve’s life depended on it. Squaring her shoulders, Bonnie knocked on Mr. Percy’s cabin. She held her breath, listening for footsteps or any other signs of life.

  Nothing.

  Bonnie knocked again and waited another minute. Still nothing.

  Leaving the front door, she peeked into the home’s backyard. Only a few tree stumps and clumps of weeds met her gaze. Bonnie chewed on her lip, trying to decide what to do next.

  Did she wait for Mr. Percy? There was no telling when he would return. Also, Bonnie did not fancy the idea of sitting exposed in his yard in the dark.

  The best option would be to return home and seek him out the next day. It was not favorable. The clock counting down to Steve’s trial would not pause. But Mr. Percy’s home sent an awful shiver up her spine, and Bonnie’s intuition told her it would be best to return home and pursue this with him the next day.

  At home, Bonnie did her best to not even look around the cabin as she cut herself a chunk of cornbread. Everything reminded her of Steve. The curtain hiding his corner of the room. The boot polish on the floor. The pocketknife he’d left on the table.

  She’d touched nothing of his since he left, and she didn’t intend to. Everything needed to remain as it was. Time passed outside of the little cabin, but inside of it, everything waited for Steve.

  Swallowing the last bite of cornbread, Bonnie took his revolver and the little box of bullets and went outside. Taking a seat on the log by the front door, she used the last of the daylight to load the gun.

  Before coming to Wyoming, she had never touched a gun. Now, she was grateful for that day Steve had taken the revolver out and taught her how to load and shoot it. She’d been an awful shot then, but perhaps, with some practice, she would get better.

  She walked out into the yard and set her gaze on a pine tree at the far end of the yard. It had a nice, large trunk. That would be her target.

  Closing one eye, Bonnie raised the revolver... aimed... and pulled the trigger.

  The recoil shook her arms and the clang of the gunshot thundered through her skull, making her gasp. Even as she lowered the revolver, the gun’s boom still echoed across the mountain.

  Bonnie crossed the yard and studied the pine tree. Her target remained unscathed. Running her fingertips across the trunk, she looked for her bullet. It wasn’t there.

  She hadn’t managed to hit the tree at all!

  All the curses Bonnie had ever heard played through her head. But, she held them back. She’d never been the cursing type, but goodness, did she feel like letting a few loose right then.

  She’d brought the revolver out thinking it would be good to have in case Mr. Hawkins’ killer realized she was asking questions and came after her. But how could she defend herself against a man who could move and draw his own gun if she could not even hit a stationary object?

  She would just have to keep practicing, that was all. And at the rate she was going, she would also likely need to visit the general store and purchase some more bullets.

  A loud crunch made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Bonnie turned away from the tree. The noise had come from the woods to the left of the cabin. She held her breath. Was someone watching her?

  No. I am nervous. That is all. It is a squirrel.

  But still, Bonnie could not calm her breathing. Squirrels did not disturb one branch and then cease making noise. For their size, they were loud little creatures.

  Bonnie’s fingers curled around the revolver’s trigger, and she lifted it halfway. She may have been an awful shot, but she could at least shock someone with the threat of being wounded.

  Unless that someone had watched her practice and knew her threat carried no weight whatsoever.

  Bonnie took a careful step toward the cabin, then stopped and listened. The woods were eerily quiet. A few birds sang, but their calls were far off, nowhere near her.

  And there was that feeling... The one that made Bonnie’s skin crawl. The one she had whenever someone watched her intently.

  Gulping, Bonnie dashed across the yard, stopping only to scoop up the box of bullets she’d left on the log before throwing herself into the cabin and locking the door.

  She collapsed into a chair, the revolver still in her fist. Her exhales came in quick spurts. She did her best to listen for noises outside the cabin despite her loud, labored breathing.

  One minute past into several. The birds had stopped singing altogether, and an owl hooted. Perhaps Bonnie had imagined things. It could have been the birds had stopped singing because it was sunset.

  And birds did not always stop singing when a human was nearby. Sometimes they sang more, didn’t they? Sometimes they would call out if they thought their nests were in danger.

  Bonnie did not know. She had never taken the time to really observe how birds acted when people were around. She did feel, however, that she was allowing her mind to become carried away. She no longer knew which thoughts were rational and which were anything but.

  Part of her wanted to remain in the cabin all night long, but the other part could not stand that. How would she sleep, thinking someone lurked around her home?

  Lifting the latch, Bonnie peeked outside. Full-on twilight gave the yard an eerie gray color. Taking a careful step into the grass, she looked all around.

  I was imagining it, she decided.

  Still, she kept the gun with her as she walked for the trees. With each step, the mysteries of the woods revealed themselves. A fallen log here. A bramble bush there. A squirrel darting up a tree.

  Bonnie stopped a few feet in and sighed in relief. Someone merely watching her did not make sense. Who would do that? If a person had come to her cabin looking to end her amateur detective work, would they not just kill her and be done with it?

  Satisfied, Bonnie turned for the cabin--and stopped after one step.

  There was a boot print in the mud.

  Bonnie choked on her inhale.

  That could be Steve’s. It could be old.

  Even as she told herself this, Bonnie knew it was a lie. Steve would not have walked into this section of the woods. There was nothing over here of interest or importance. Also, this print was fresh, made in the mud from the last rain.

  That left only one option. A horrible, evil option that clawed at Bonnie’s mind and heart.

  This time, when she ran, the world blurred around her. She was inside and behind the locked door in the blink of an eye, and she did not stop there. Using all of her weight, she pushed the table to the door and barricaded herself inside.

  Clutching the revolver to her chest, she backed up until her legs hit the edge of her bed. Sitting down on the edge of the mattress, she watched the door. She waited.

  The danger she had thought she imagined was real. Bonnie did not know who was outside of her cabin, but their presence pressed in on her from every side. She clamped her jaw shut, afraid she would scream from the terror.

  Any moment, they could bang on the door. They could shoot through the window. They could come for her. And then it would all be over.

  34

  34. Bonnie

  Chapter thirty-four

  Bonnie awoke with a start, her head jerking forward. Her vision blurry from sleep, she searched across the quilt for the
gun. Her fingers closed over the handle, and she lifted it up, ready for whatever danger could be there.

  The cabin was empty, the table still blocking the door. Morning light streamed in through the window.

  Bonnie was not sure whether a noise or the hour had woken her up. Her heart beat erratically, and a sour taste coated her tongue.

  Rising from the bed, she went to the window and peered outside. The yard was empty.

  She had not meant to fall asleep. Indeed, she’d spent hours nodding off only to jerk awake at the slightest crack of a twig or yip of a coyote. At some point, she must have lost the fight and succumbed to slumber.

  Now it was morning, and she knew she could not stay in the cabin forever. Steve needed her.

  Taking her jacket down from its hook, she slipped her arms into it and secured the middle button. Gathering all the courage she could, Bonnie pushed the table away from the door and took the first dangerous step outside.

  She managed to take all of three steps. At that point, she broke into a run the revolver still clutched in her fist. Down the road she went, leaving her cabin behind.

  At Neil’s cabin, she banged on the door with her fist. “Neil! It is Bonnie!”

  The door flew open, and a wide-eyed Neil, hair ruffled from sleep, stared at her. “Bonnie! What is it?”

  “There was someone...” Bonnie gasped for breath and looked over her shoulder. No one had followed her.

  “What are you talking about? Someone where?” Neil followed her gaze.

  “Last night,” Bonnie managed in between ragged breaths.

  “Come in.” Neil ushered her inside and closed the door behind her. “Sit down. Have some coffee.”

  Bonnie did as he said and sat on the bench in the middle of the room.

  “Sorry I don’t have a table,” Neil said, handing her a tin cup of coffee. “I’m gonna build one soon as I get the chance.”

  Bonnie was surprised to hear herself chuckle.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Everything that is going on, and you apologize for not having a table.”

  Neil grinned self-consciously, but then his face turned serious. “Bonnie. What happened? There was someone where?”

  Bonnie put the revolver next to her on the bench and inhaled the fresh coffee’s steam. The earthy scent brought her back to her senses and calmed her down some. Neil leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest.

  “Last night,” she said, “I heard a noise in the woods next to the cabin. I went inside for a bit, and then when I went out again to look around. I found a boot print in the dirt where I’d heard the noise.”

  Neil dropped his arms and straightened up. “You did? How did you know it was from last night?”

  “Steve would not go into this area of the woods,” Bonnie explained. “There is nothing there. And it was a fresh print. The earth was still soft from the last rain.”

  Neil nodded. “Did you find anything else?”

  “That was it. Although, honestly, I did not do a thorough investigation of the scene. I was too terrified to think of doing anything else but fleeing inside.”

  Neil paced the room, his hands in fists. “I’m real sorry this is happening.”

  “It is not your fault.”

  Neil stopped pacing and took a seat on the opposite end of the bench. “You can’t stay there, Bonnie. It’s not safe.”

  “I know,” she said quietly.

  “We’ll find you somewhere else to stay. The hotel or the Briggs’. The Hahns’. Someone will take you in.”

  Bonnie hated the idea of being ‘taken in.’ She did not wish to be a burden to anyone. Staying at the hotel was not a favored option, either. With Steve in jail, there was no money coming in. She could not afford to squander what little she had on a rented room.

  She would do what she needed to, though. Anything had to be better than death.

  A shiver traveled through Bonnie, and she became horribly cold. She had tried to tell herself the night before that if someone had come to her home looking to kill her, they would have done so while she was in the yard. But now she wondered over the validity of that belief.

  Perhaps the person lurking in the woods was biding their time for some reason, watching and waiting for the right moment to dispose of Bonnie.

  “Bonnie?” Neil asked. “You all right?”

  Bonnie nodded and took a sip of coffee. “I will be.”

  Neil frowned and rubbed his palm over his stubbled chin. “Any idea of who it was?”

  “I did not actually see anyone, but... Yesterday, I went to the mine, and a man there, Mr. Hickson, told me about Warren Percy. Are you familiar with him?”

  “Yes,” Neil said. “Sorta. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever talked to him. What are you getting at? You think it was him outside your cabin?”

  “Perhaps.” Bonnie took another sip of coffee. Her whole head ached. “Mr. Hickson said that Mr. Percy has been coveting the Hawkins’ land. That is the exact word he used. Coveting. And the other day, he came over when I was leaving after calling on Margaret, and he was so eager to speak with her. He seemed very agitated when she did not wish to entertain him.”

  “Hold on.” Neil held up a palm. “I need to roll this back a bit, just to make sure I understand. You think Warren Percy might have killed Hawkins in order to get his land? And now he’s after you because you’re on to him?”

  “I know it does not sound entirely implausible when you say it like that,” Bonnie said.

  “No, I’ll agree with that. Why didn’t he kill Margaret as well, though?”

  “It could be he thought that with Mr. Hawkins out of the way, he would have an easier job getting the land,” Bonnie said. “He might have thought Margaret could be persuaded into selling it. But she isn’t interested in selling it, though. She said she will be renting the place out while she lives in Pathways.”

  Neil tapped his thumb against his lower lip. “But why? Why kill over land? What is so important about that plot?”

  “It has a big creek running through it,” Bonnie said. “And a nice flat area. I have seen it myself.”

  Neil shrugged. “There’s land everywhere around here. If a man needs some flat acreage and a stream, all he has to do is move down to the valley.”

  Bonnie set the coffee cup next to the revolver, and Neil’s gaze followed hers to the weapon.

  “You ever shot that thing?” he asked.

  “I practiced last night. I’m afraid it did not go too well.”

  “I can give you a lesson. Though I’d much rather have you just staying in town or someplace around other people. I know Steve would, too.”

  At the mention of Steve, Bonnie’s stomach somersaulted. “How is he?”

  Neil hesitated.

  “Neil?”

  “He’s eerily calm,” Neil said. “very accepting of what’s happening, too accepting.” He studied Bonnie. “I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that.”

  “No.” Bonnie shook her head. “It is fine. I wanted to know.”

  “It’s not like he’s in denial or anything. I don’t think it’s that. It’s almost like he’s given up but doesn’t care.”

  “Well, I’ll do the caring for him,” Bonnie said harshly.

  “I will, too. And I’m going to ask around about Warren Percy. See if I can find anything out.”

  “I will do the same.”

  “No,” Neil said.

  Bonnie raised her eyebrows. “No?”

  Neil sighed. “There’s one thing that’s still getting to Steve, Bonnie, and that’s your safety. He wants to make sure you’re all right.”

  “I am.”

  “You’re not.”

  Bonnie’s shoulders sagged. She did not have the strength to lie twice. Of course, she was not all right. She was exhausted. Broken. Run ragged. And now, afraid for her life. There was a good possibility someone in Whiteridge wanted her dead. As she did not know who this someone was, dodging the danger felt nearly
impossible.

  Neil glanced out his window. The morning light had strengthened since Bonnie arrived.

  “I need to get to the mine,” he said.

  Bonnie nodded and stood. She picked up the revolver but now felt awkward holding it and so slipped it into her pocket.

  “I’ll walk you into town first,” Neil said.