Rewarding Redemption (The Redemption Series Book 5)

by Bonnie R. Paulson

  Lisa scoffed. “No, he could. He chose that lifestyle. We can always choose. Look at us. We aren’t like him. We didn’t choose anything like he did and we have more reason than anyone. Jenny chose not to be like that at an even younger age than most of us.” She looked at each sister hard, like she wanted to make sure they knew she saw them. “We’re stronger than he was. Stronger than most people. Look at us.”

  Mary left her spot on the floor and scooted in beside Jenny, pulling her into a hard embrace. She reached for Rosie and Sara Beth. Motioning for Lisa who joined them, Mary pulled everyone in for a welcome and needed hug.

  Yet, as Lisa’s tears finally fell down her cheeks, she couldn’t help but feel what she didn’t want to and she was finally grateful her emotions had a mind of their own.

  Family. She found her family.

  And just look at them.

  Epilogue

  Two months later

  Jenny’s engagement ring glinted in the sun when she raised her fist to knock on the plain paneled door. She glanced at Jason, who stood beside her in his best jeans and solid blue button-up shirt. His brown Stetson made his eyes look darker and Jenny couldn’t help reaching for his fingers.

  Looking at him never failed to make her feel at home.

  Every time they went to a new person’s house, her stomach tightened and spasmed with nerves.

  This would be the twelfth Caracus robbery victim in two months.

  The door swung open and a silver-haired woman with thin wire-rimmed glasses regarded them with confusion. Politely, she shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m not buying anything and I already found Jesus.” She moved to shut the door.

  Jenny placed her free hand out to stop it from closing. “Margaret Sharvis?” The woman nodded and Jenny continued. “Ma’am, I’m Jenny Caracus and this is Jason Mendez. Our fathers were in the Caracus gang who stole from you all those years ago.”

  The woman’s lips turned down at the corners and her eyes misted. She didn’t have any anger in her stance as she shifted from questioning to crossing her arms. “What do you want?”

  Jason stepped forward, dropping Jenny’s hand. “Redemption, ma’am. We want to fix what our fathers broke.” He held out a small jeweler’s box. “We searched the insurance papers to match up belongings with the items we recovered and we got permission from the insurance company to return this to you ourselves.” He cleared his throat. “We’re real sorry they stole from you and we wish we could do something else to take away the pain.”

  Mrs. Sharvis accepted the box with shaking hands. Her mouth opened in an O-shape. Her eyes widened as she opened the hinged lid. Slowly, with a reverence each of the previous victims had shown, Mrs. Sharvis pulled out a strand of exquisite pearls – valued at roughly five-thousand dollars and draped them over her arm.

  Rolling the strand between her fingers, she choked on a sob, shaking her head and closing her eyes. After a moment, she raised her gaze to Jenny and then Jason. “I had so many sleepless nights because of this. My great-grandmother brought only this piece with her from Ireland. She had nothing else. Worked odd jobs to get money before she met her husband. She did everything to keep this necklace.” She replaced the vintage piece in the box and closed it with a snap. Hugging the treasure to her chest, she watched them with tears in her eyes. “Thank you. I thought they were lost forever.”

  Walking away, Jenny reclaimed Jason’s hand.

  They found the treasure and the remaining Caracus gang were rounded up and currently waited for trial. Rosie was pregnant and Jenny was invited to Lisa’s wedding – actually she was told she would be there and would be dressed horridly as a bridesmaid.

  Even though they found three safety deposit boxes at the bank full of items they could sell and make a lot of money from, Jenny, her sisters, and their cowboys all agreed – the peace of mind they got returning the items was worth more than anything in the entire bank.

  It turned out that Ronan’s father was the man who met with Devlyn and set up accounts for him in secret. Even Ronan didn’t know who the Ellsbeth account belonged to.

  Jenny squeezed Jason’s hand. They agreed together to return the money in the account and were rewarded with the two-percent finder’s fee from the insurance company. Split five ways – Jason refused his share – all five sisters had a pretty hefty chunk of change.

  But no amount mattered.

  Because they found redemption.

  And Redemption was the best reward of all.

  The end of Rewarding Redemption, book #5 of the Redemption series.

  Join my Survivors Newsletter and keep up to date on when the next series The Montana Trails will release. Read about Nate Rourke and his cousins, and what can make a cowboy lose his heart. Keep reading for the first chapter in Broken Trails!

  If you haven’t read the Lonely Lace series with the MacAllister brothers and Ronan James (where Clearwater County Collection begins!) Click HERE!

  Sign up here for my newsletter.

  Dear Survivor,

  Oh, how my heart is full right now. The sisters are all redeemed and they are on their way to happily-ever-after. Clearwater County has gained yet another satisfied family.

  Did you enjoy this series? If you did could you please leave a review? Reviews help other readers find the books you like.

  My thanks to you for sticking with me through this series. These sisters were hard to write because of their father, but I’m glad they made it through to the end. They survived alone to end up together. That’s true survival, if you ask me.

  A special thank you to Brooklyn at Grammar Smith Editing for always doing such terrific work. To Mandie Stevens for her guidance and patience. To my bloggers who are a strength and support to me. And to my husband for being my rock.

  I look forward to seeing you in other stories.

  Stay Alive,

  Bonnie

  Broken Trails

  Prologue

  Nate

  1999

  Perfect day for a double funeral.

  Nate stiffened his collar against the brisk wind and prying eyes of other mourners. They wanted to see him cry. Wanted to see him break.

  Well, Nathan Rourke didn’t fail, and he certainly didn’t cry.

  In front of people.

  He straightened his spine, conscious of his squared shoulders and his two younger sisters sobbing beside him.

  Nobody should have to worry about losing their parents at twenty-one.

  His poor sisters, Stefanie and Hannah, had more to cope with at only fourteen and eleven. Their parents’ death would be harder for them. Nate had to be strong for them, keep his sanity together.

  The grave attendees motioned for Nate to step forward as they straightened their gloves and jackets in the cooling weather.

  “As young Mr. Rourke says his final goodbyes, I would ask the rest of us to observe a moment of silence.” The rent-a-pastor tugged at his cuff, watching Nate like he too expected tears and blubbering.

  Clenching two long-stemmed red roses, Nate stepped forward, lifting his chin. He’d be damned before he’d say or do anything in front of the group watching him. Not one of them knew his family like they should. No other family had shown up. Did he even have family out there in the world anymore? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t place anyone.

  None of that mattered. He was just stalling, trying not to say goodbye one last time. Not to his Mom. Not to Dad. If he threw the flowers in, the workers would cover his parents in dirt.

  But for a moment – the smallest of moments – Nate could save them from that. He hadn’t been able to save them from the accident, but this one second – he could save them this one second in time.

  Then his second was over. He couldn’t stare at the coffins forever.

  He tossed the flowers backhandedly into the not-so-empty graves and turned his back.

  Mom and Dad weren’t in those holes.

  They couldn’t be.

  Chapter 1

  Nat
e

  2001

  Storming through the craftsman-style home, Nate bellowed, “Hannah, I’m going out.” He couldn’t find his hat. Normally he hung the darn thing from the hook by the door. Where was it? He ignored the empty elegance echoing back his footsteps. If he thought too hard about the things he’d gotten rid of, the guilt would overwhelm him.

  Impish at thirteen, Hannah poked her head around the corner from the kitchen. A small spot of flour dotted her shirt. She frowned. “Stefanie, again?”

  Nate glared. “Something tells me you already knew.” There, behind the door his wide-brimmed cowboy hat peeked out. He swooped down and snatched it from its hiding place. If not for the creamy-colored walls to contrast with the dark mahogany hard wood flooring, Nate would never have seen the dark brown bucket.

  He plunked the hat on his head and stalked slowly toward Hannah. “Did you know? Where is she?”

  Blue-eyes wide, Hannah backed up, hands lifted in the air as if in surrender. “Hey, I know what you know. I just guessed. She’s always making you mad.”

  He yanked supple leather riding gloves on. Hannah wasn’t the type to hide things. She most likely wasn’t. More likely Nate’s irritation and worry over Stefanie’s whereabouts made him doubt and suspect everyone and everything.

  Even Hannah.

  “Sorry to bark at you, I’m just worried.” He ground his teeth, fuming. Add raging to his concerns and Nate wasn’t controlling his emotions very well. Riding his horse would help. That always helped.

  He slammed the door shut and the fresh green growth on nearby willow trees quivered from the force.

  Nate was pissed and the longer it took to find Stefanie, the harder his anger would be to control. He wouldn’t snap, but her consequences would grow.

  A neighbor had spotted Nate out on the field earlier not that long ago and made a comment about kids being kids when they’d exchanged pleasantries.

  Not Nate’s favorite saying.

  After pressing for more information, Nate culled information from the neighbor about high school students ditching class to go burn a bonfire and party out by Old Man Ruger’s pond.

  Nate had gotten in his own trouble out that way when he was in school. The last thing he needed was Stefanie drunk and sleeping with some over-sexed farm boy who didn’t know anything about protection or women.

  Especially when that woman was Nate’s younger sister.

  The run-down barn had an attached stable that sat off to the side like a lean-to. Everything was wood – wood siding, wood trim, wood slats for roofing. The place was a veritable pile of kindling waiting for a match to fall and spur it to an inferno. But the building was all they had for a barn. In the back, Nate’s dad had built a solid cement-walled room for forging. Somehow the presence of cement didn’t make Nate any less leery about the safety of the rest of the tinder box.

  Nate had to open the door a specific way with a combination of moves done exactly right, or the old door would squeak and grown but not open. First, hit the top corner of the barn door with the flat of his palm just so. Next, yank on the wooden long handle while at the same time yank his hip to the side. Nate wouldn’t be surprised, if one day he had to enter with a password – he already had to do the special handshake.

  Normally they left the door slightly ajar, but Stefanie had put the horses away last and she wasn’t one who cared about making things easy for others.

  Dust motes drifted inside the time-bleached building. Afternoon sunlight filtered through overhead fiberglass slats Nate’s father had installed for windows.

  Closing the door enough to block the wind, Nate shut out the chaos of the world. He simply existed for a minute within the peacefulness of the barn.

  Old as it was, run-down as it had become, the barn was a different world full of comfort and serenity. Muted nickering and the quiet lifting and chewing of hay mingled with the random clip and clop of hooves.

  Nate sighed, a little less amped up, but no less worried.

  He clucked his tongue. “Hey, girl, where are you?” He played the same game with his mare every day, pretending she wasn’t in the middle stall with her name painted above her in pink. “Missy, where are you?” A soft whistle usually signaled her to poke her caramel brown head out and – yep, there she was. “Hey, girl. Ready to go for a ride? We need to take Pluckster with us.”

  The mention of her name pulled the attention of the dark sorrel mare from the feed box. Her ears twitched and she watched Nate stop at the tack closet and pull out the necessary items. He prepped his horses with care, but almost as an afterthought since he’d done the job so many times.

  He led the horses out of the barn, careful to close the door before mounting Missy. He wrapped Pluckster’s reins around Missy’s pommel and set off at an amble. He didn’t need to push the animals into a sprint and risk injury, especially when he couldn’t afford more than a 30.06 bullet for care.

  Old Man Ruger’s place spanned over a thousand acres along the northern border of the Salish reservation. Mr. Ruger didn’t check his land much. Nor did he pay the ranch hands who worked the place enough to secure the properties from partying kids. According to rumor, some workers even joined in once in a while.

  Two miles down the dirt road, Nate passed in front of the Benson place. He didn’t want to look obvious as he studied the small patio and windows. Would she be there? Would Emma poke her head out? Was she even in town? Nate hadn’t seen her in years.

  But the time didn’t dim his affections or his anxiety to see her – catch a glimpse of her.

  Lights didn’t even flicker in the house. Nate accepted her rejection in high school for the billionth time and nudged Missy further down the road.

  Turning right and headed south, Nate ran through all the possible scenarios he could find his sister in.

  She wasn’t a drinker, so that one wasn’t a huge possibility. Would she be swimming in the pond? Nah, the sunlight was warm, but the water was usually frigid in early May, at least in the northern section of Montana where Taylor Falls, Clearwater County was located. Stefanie hated being cold – with a passion.

  “Come on, girl. We’re doing good.” Nate didn’t fight the quiet. Since his parents died, the noiselessness unsettled him somewhat, but not enough to ramble on to no one in particular. He hadn’t gone crazy, for crying out loud.

  A downed pole of a split rail fence gave away the position of the trail wending its way off into the thickly grassed fields. Not more than a hundred yards or so away from the fence, trees created a natural border where the tilled grounds gave way to the forest. Old Man Ruger raised beef and he let his cows have their freedom in the wilds of his own forest.

  Free-ranging beef was something Nate understood. He appreciated.

  The trail was well-maintained with years of numerous parties and secret rendezvous wearing down the grass and plants.

  Nate came to the tree line and ducked under low-hanging pine branches as he passed, clucking to his horses.

  The scent of smoke and burning damp wood lingered on the late afternoon air.

  Eyeing the skyline, Nate tapped Missy’s flank with the toe of his boot. He’d be hanged before he’d waste his time trying to find Stefanie in the woods in the dark. She had no qualms running onto Salish land, with or without permission, and Nate would never find her then.

  Missy climbed the gentle sloping land easily, lowering her head as she picked her way through the trees and bushes. Like she’d been that way before. He pushed those memories behind him, leaving them to fall under Pluckster’s hooves.

  Carefree laughter reached Nate through the wakening evergreens. He tightened his jaw. The rumors were true, sticking in his craw like a bur stuck between a jean and sock. Damn Stefanie for lying to him. She was supposed to be at school and then at her girlfriend’s place.

  This wasn’t the first time he’d caught her lying and sneaking around.

  But he’d be damned, if it wasn’t going to be the last.

  “Whoa
,” he murmured. If he announced his arrival before actually getting there, the teenagers would scatter.

  He knew the rules.

  Hell, he’d invented some of them.

  Dismounting, Nate led the horses to a tree off the path and out of the way. He tied their reins with enough give they could still munch on nearby foliage if they were so inclined.

  He braced himself on tree trunks as he passed. Minimal noise came from his slick, well-worn cowboy boots as he crossed over grass, rocks, and twigs. The recent rains had left everything moist and even the dried pine needles from the previous fall didn’t break or snap as he walked over them.

  In seconds, the bright orange-yellow of the bonfire blazed before him at the center of the clearing. Flanked by trees and surrounded by a pond the size of a football field, the clearing was the perfect place to lose one’s inhibitions. An inlet stream and outlet creek added the noise of moving water to the ambiance.

  Nate glared at the mass collection of students. Some looked young enough to be in Hannah’s class and a few looked like they might have graduated about the same time as Nate.

  He stopped beside a large Bull Pine a few feet back from the line of sight. If any of them peered into the woods, they’d most likely spot him. Yet the odds of the self-absorbed teenagers thinking of even looking out of the circle of light were more in Nate’s favor than he wanted to admit.

  Locate Stefanie. Where was she? A sliver of hope that she wasn’t there invaded his anger. He studied the crowd as it moved and changed. Some people were in the water, their splashing and catcalling diverting Nate’s attention momentarily. He shivered at the thought. As it was, he’d worn a duster to keep any possible chill off.