by Morgan, Kit
ANGEL CREEK PRESS
His Prairie Princess
2013 by Kit Morgan
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without permission in writing from the publisher.
All characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people are purely coincidental.
Cover design by Angel Creek Press
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"There's just something about a western. They're so simple. Good versus evil. The cowboy or lawman has to save the girl then gets the girl. You don't need to dress them up, their purity alone tells a simple story that always satisfies. That's why I love westerns."
John Terleski
One
Oregon Territory, March 1858
“Let’s just kill her and be done with it!”
Kill her? What did they mean kill her? The idiots just tied her up! Why bother if they were going to kill her anyway?
“Ahhhh, now why would you wanna kill a purty thing like this fer? I know a better use fer the gal! A much better one! After all, it’s why we took her in the first place, ain’t it?”
Two of her captors laughed and leered in her direction. Oh no! Notthat!
“I still say killing her is our best option.”
“But Jeb!” Another began. “Think of the horrible waste! Ya gotta admit, she’s mighty pretty!”
Now all four of them leered, including Jeb. He stood and studied her in a languid manner with renewed interest.
Her eyes widened. No, no please! She didn’t want to end her life like this! Raped and murdered by a gang of dirty, stinking, halfwit outlaws! Thankfully, one of the men’s stomachs growled. Loudly. They looked at each other then their bellies. If Sadie’s guess was right, her life was about to be spared by a pot of beans.
“Well I don’t know about ya’ all, but I can’t think on an empty stomach,” one moaned, confirming her assumption. She slumped in her chair in relief.
“And I’m plumb tired of wearing this here mask!” He added and adjusted the bandana that still covered the lower half of his face. They’d been wearing them ever since they robbed the stage several hours ago.
“Cain’s right. I’m starved, and she can’t see us if’n we’re in the other room eatin. Let’s go.”
Jeb, the leader of the trio, studied her a moment longer before giving in. “All right, let’s get some grub. She’s not going anywhere. And later it won’t matter if she sees us. As soon as we’re all done with her, she’ll be half dead anyway. We’ll draw straws to see who gets to finish the job.”
They laughed, slapped each other on the back in a congratulatory manner, and spurs jangling, headed into the main room of their cabin hideout.
Sadie Jones took a deep breath through the nose and grimaced. The odor from the gag they’d placed on her was atrocious. She continued to make a face at the awful smell and let her breath out slowly.
Trussed up, gagged, and stuck with four lecherous outlaws. Oh lovely. How was she going to get out of this? She should have listened to her father and never set foot outside her door! Why had she gone off by herself?Why?
Because she was a head-strong, stubborn girl with a fierce independence that’s why. Traits her father said would get her into a lot of trouble and now they had. What ever was she to do?
When the outlaws had robbed the stage she figured that was that! Her money would be gone and her quest cut short. Worse, she’d have to get in contact with her father and eventually face his wrath over her brash behavior. She was supposed to be heading to her aunt and uncle’s ranch for a visit, not gallivanting across the prairie in the opposite direction in search of her mother.
Guilt suddenly assailed her. Her father didn’t suspect a thing. Days, even weeks could pass before her aunt got word to him she didn't make it. Sadie had set off on the four day journey just as she had on past visits. But when the stage caught up with a wagon train the temptation was too much. She left the stagecoach and paid a family in the wagon train to take her along with them. At least until they came to a point where she could catch a stage to the little town of Clear Creek. It would have worked too if said stage hadn’t been held up. But Sadie never expected to be taken along with the rest of the loot. After all, being kidnapped was the last thing on her mind that morning.
Unfortunately it was the foremost thing that afternoon.
She again tried the ropes used to lash her hands behind her back and tie her to a chair. No use. They were too tight. She was a helpless captive. So helpless in fact, Sadie Jones did something she hadn’t done in a very long time. She began to cry.
It wasn’t so much out of fear, though she was sure she'd succumb to it when the men came back. No, these tears were out of anger. Anger for not heeding her father's advice to wait for him to wrap up a business deal so he could help find her mother. Herreal mother. Before it was too late. But Sadie knew that once her father got around to finishing things up and make their travel arrangements, her mother would be out of time. Not to mention out of luck. Death usually didn’t give second chances. And according to a letter her father had received stating her birth mother was extremely ill, death was obviously closing in. Much the same way it closed in on Sadie now.
Sadie closed her eyes. It was her own fault for taking off in the first place. She wanted to meet her mother before she died, but it looked like that wasn’t going to happen. Her mother would be taken to glory by whatever sort of disease was slowly eating away at her. Sadie by four men who thankfully had more interest in a pot of beans at the moment than her. But those beans weren’t going to last the scoundrels much longer ...
So, Sadie Jones, being a practical girl, did the only thing she could think of considering her current predicament. She sniffed back her tears, bowed her head, and prayed she’d be ready for what ever happened when the beans ran out.
* * *
Harrison Cooke crawled out of his hiding spot underneath the cabin’s porch and crouched beneath a window. He followed the outlaw’s trail for hours before finally catching up with them. The driver of the stage was badly injured and it nearly galled Harrison to fetch a nearby farmer to tend him. But he couldn’t leave the man! Then he’d be no better than the thieving outlaws who beat him half to death and left him to die.
Harrison pushed the thought aside as he slowly stood to peek in the window. All the outlaws were inside, their horses unsaddled and put in a makeshift corral. He figured they’d been here at least an hour and had settled in for the night. He could smell beans cooking and hear laughter. The scum were probably slugging down shots of whiskey and counting the minutes until they opened the strong box they’d stolen. Not to mention the mailbag. That is if they hadn’t already. But there were no shots fired or sounds of forcing the lock that he’d heard and he’d been under the porch for at least a half an hour. So the strongbox must still be intact. He hoped the mail fared as well as that’s what he was after. Letters from Washington regarding his brother’s pardons were in that mailbag, and Harrison was prepared to do what ever he had to in order to get them. His two brothers were not going to spend another minute in that rancid, disgusting prison! Not if he could help it!
He took a deep breath and carefully looked through the dirty window. “What the bloody...” he began on a whisper. “No, it couldn’t be.” He turned from the window, shut his eyes tight, then opened them and peeked through the glass again. Make no mistake. It was. They had awoman tied up in there! Now what was he going to do? His only goal was to retrieve the mailbag, but they had a hostage! But didn’t the stagecoach driver mention a passenger? Harrison and the farmer figured if there was one, (which was rare,
who on Earth wanted to come to Clear Creek?) the fool must have wandered off after the stage was robbed. That being the case, the passenger would have to fend for himself. The driver had the more pressing problems. Besides, come suppertime the missing passenger would find his way to the farmer's house once he got hungry. It was amazing how an empty stomach could help a man’s sense of direction.
The passenger’s real problem, as Harrison saw it, was that he was in actuality a she. And she had been taken from the stage along with the strongbox and mail. With women being exceedingly scarce in these parts that could only mean one thing. Harrison closed his eyes and said a quick prayer he would get to her before the outlaws did. Not to mention get them both out alive and unharmed.
He looked at the closed door leading to the cabin’s main room. Voices and raucous laughter could be heard coming from the other side. The mailbag was more than likely there. He then looked at the woman. Even in the dim light from a nearby lantern he could see she was young. Frightened. Her eyes, a dark cornflower blue, were wide over the gag and filled with tears. Her hair, from what he could see, escaped about her face in tiny dark tendrils. She wore a simple white bonnet that hid the rest of her dark tresses, a white blouse and dark wool skirt. She had no coat, shawl, or other covering. It must be on the stage with her belongings. She had to be half frozen from the ride to the ramshackle cabin. Her boots were practical and dirty. In fact they looked like she’d done a lot of walking in them and he briefly wondered if she’d come from one of the wagon trains that passed through to the south.
The boots were also tightly lashed together at her ankles. Crumbs! He certainly hoped she had some feeling left in those little feet and ankles. She was going to need them to run for her life in a moment.
Harrison pulled a bowie knife from the scabbard on his belt. It was his only weapon. He’d been in such a hurry to meet the stage, he’d not bothered to change out of his dirty work clothes or put on his gun belt. He didn’t wear a gun often, despite being such an excellent shot, but pig farming didn’t much call for it. But he’d gladly wear one from now on if he managed to get out of this.
He took one last look at the woman. Her head was bowed and her body shook in silent sobs, or was it from the cold? Either way it didn’t matter. The sight made his whole gut twist. He gritted his teeth and quietly backed away from the window.
What he needed was a diversion. Something to draw the outlaws away from the cabin long enough to rescue the woman and with any luck, retrieve the mailbag to boot. He looked at his surroundings. It was already dark and getting colder by the minute. The bit of snow on the ground coupled with the scant amount of moonlight would help, but it was still going to be difficult to get himself and the woman to his horse with out a lantern to light the way.
Harrison again took in his surroundings a brief moment before he suddenly smiled. Of course, why hadn’t he thought of it before? He had just the thing to use for his diversion.
* * *
Sadie’s head hung low, her chin to her chest. She watched her tears fall into her lap and tried to keep from shivering. It had been easy to stop the hot tears when she was angry with herself. But sounds of chairs pushed away from a table, deep male laughter and plenty of belching told her she was about to be served up on a silver platter. Or in this case a wooden table. And if not the table in the next room, the floor would probably do the scalawags just fine. The only furniture in the room she occupied was the chair she was tied to and a small wooden barrel with a lantern on it. Who knew if there was a third room with an actual bed. It might be nicer to die on a bed and not the floor or kitchen table. Perhaps the third room was through the door directly behind her. She’d noticed it when they shoved her into the chair and tied her up. Oh what was she thinking?
Stop it, Sadie! Stop it! She was the daughter of a cattle baron for Heaven’s sake! She could shoot a gun and been on a cattle drive! She’d come out West with her father from Texas when she was ten! She’d help him settle into the Oregon territory after her stepmother died. He’d become prosperous and was one of the major names in the cattle industry! He brought commerce to the wilds of Oregon, supplied the wagon trains and helped tame the prairies! And by God, she wasn’t going to go down without a fight and have her father think of her as some weak, stupid female who couldn’t take care of business!
Well, except for the part of not listening to him. And taking off by herself across the prairie. And getting kidnapped of course, and then...
Her head snapped up. A sound suddenly caught her attention. A horrible howl carried on the windsent a chill up her spine. Wolves.
Her eyes darted to the door. Her captors heard it too if the dead quiet in the other room was an indicator. Another sound caught Sadie’s attention, this one much different. A horse suddenly ran past her window. She heard the hoof beats loud and clear. Another wolf howl then rent the air. Closer.
“The horses! Those stinking varmints are going after the horses!” One of the men cried. There was a mad scramble on the other side of the door. She heard their cursing along with the sound of booted feet stomping every which way but out the front door. They weren’t the most organized lot and she thanked the Lord for that. It might buy her some time.
Finally, after several more sets of racing hoof beats, more stomping, cursing, and the sound of a door being thrown open, the cabin went silent.
“Don’t move a muscle and don’t make a sound,” a deep, accented voice hissed into her ear from behind. Where did he come from? She didn’t even hear him enter the room! She saw a flash of steel out the corner of one eye. A knife! A reallybig knife!
No! Oh no please! One of them stayed behind and was going to take her before the others had a chance.
“I hope you’ve enough strength in you for what’s to come!” He whispered as he began to saw through the ropes used to tie her to the chair. “But don’t worry, we’ll be quick about it. They’ll never know until it’s too late.”
Sadie’s tears fell with a vengeance, blurring her vision. Where did her bravery go? And oh but the man stunk to high Heaven. He smelled of mud, dirty straw, and ...was that pig?
He suddenly grabbed her from behind and yanked her out of the chair. Nooooo! Sadie’s entire body shook with terror. She couldn’t breath, couldn’t see, and for the first time in her life, couldn’t stay conscious.
Two
The woman landed on the floor like a sack of potatoes. Harrison barely let go of her to untie her ankles when she toppled over in a dead faint. He glanced quickly about. Blast! The outlaws could be back any minute! There was only one thing to do.
Harrison picked the woman up, threw her over his shoulder and headed for the door. He couldn’t very well use the bedroom window he’d crawled through to get into the cabin, so opted for the back door instead. But to get to that, he’d have to go through the main room. He carefully opened the door and quickly scanned for any sign of the mailbag. Nothing! Where could it be?
A horse ran past the open front door. A shout soon followed. Harrison had no choice. He had to escape! Tightening his hold on the woman he made for the rear door on the other side of the room, checked for any signs of the outlaws and ran into the cold, night air.
He almost slipped when he stepped on an icy patch of snow, but managed to get his feet under him. The woman was blissfully light, thank the Lord for that! But even so, he would have to carry her a good distance and over time would eventually tire. Especially if it took him a while to find his horse in the dark!
Harrison began to wonder if the woman had regained consciousness when he heard another shout in the distance. He pushed himself harder, stumbled again and ran side long into a tree. He grimaced as he hit the tree hard with his shoulder and hoped the audiblethud he heard wasn’t the woman’s head. But then, what else could it be? If she had regained conscious she certainly wasn't after that blow! But a blow to the head because of him was certainly better than what she surely would have suffered at the hands of the outlaws. Besides, once h
e got away he’d take her straight to Doc Waller in Clear Creek. Yes, that’s what he’d do.
Harrison kept moving until he heard the sound of water and headed for it. He’d tied his horse near a small stream and the animal couldn’t be far off. He carried the still form through the trees and upon reaching the stream, caught his breath. He then risked a low whistle. His horse nickered in return. It was faint, but he heard it and took off downstream toward the sound. After a few moments he found his mare Juliet right where he left her. Just in time too. It started to snow.
“OK, girl. You’re going to have to take it from here.” He said in a low voice as he hefted his load across the saddle. It was a horrible way to transport the woman, but he didn’t want to take the time to untie her and bring her around. Time was of the essence and he wasn’t about to waste it. Harrison quickly mounted, lifted her body to slide into the saddle himself and laid her across his lap as best he could. It was going to be a rough ride with her body wedged between his belly and the saddle horn, but she would stay put that way.
With one hand on the woman and the reins in the other, he kicked Juliet into action and they were off. Across the stream, through the woods and all too soon, heading for the open prairie. The one place he feared they might be caught. A couple inches of snow covered the ground and even though the crescent moon gave little light, it would probably be enough for the outlaws to see Juliet against the rolling sea of white laid out before him. Not to mention his tracks unless he had some good distance on them. With luck, it would snow enough in a few moments to hide any trail he’d left and make it harder for the outlaws to follow.
Harrison slowed Juliet and turned to check the landscape behind them. Nothing. No light in the trees, no dark forms coming across the snow. But by now the outlaws would have caught their horses and discovered the woman was gone. Even if they had been dumb enough not to guard her, they weren’t so dumb they wouldn’t notice her bonds had been cut. The wolf-pack nothing but a diversion.
