by Vivi Holt
Only silence greeted her. She scanned the front yard, noting the broken plow overgrown with weeds, the dilapidated fence surrounding the small pigpen and the dirty brown chickens running and scratching around the driveway. Fred’s horse was missing. The wagon sat empty by the barn behind the house. She hurried over to it and peeked inside the barn. Fred’s saddle and bridle weren’t where they usually hung on the wall.
She strode back to the house and pushed open the front door. Fred had never felt the need to get a lock, other than the latch key that would hold the door closed once they were inside. She wandered around the living area, noting the bottle of moonshine on the table beside two empty cups and dirty plates.
Where are you, Genevieve? It was obvious that Fred had left. But where was Genevieve? He hadn’t taken the wagon, and she couldn’t have ridden on the horse for long with him.
She walked outside, still carrying the pie, and scurried across the road to a shack that sat on the road’s edge. Its broken porch was an eyesore, and she noted the absence of smoke above the cold chimney. Perhaps Quincey was home - although it didn’t look promising. If he was there, he’d know where to find Fred. “Quincey, are you there?” she called.
No answer. She didn’t like the idea of entering his house – she was sure she’d catch some kind of infectious disease just by stepping inside. She pushed his front door ajar and poked her head in. The stench of rotting food and body odor hit her full in the face and she coughed. She covered her mouth with one hand and called out again. “Are you there, Quincey?”
There was no response. Where is everyone?
Back outside, she looked for his nag of a horse, but the yard was empty. She saw his milk cow, skinny and forlorn, tied to a broken fence paling, and a dog nosing around the water pump. Poor creatures. How long since they were fed, I wonder? She lay down her reticule and the pie and set about feeding every animal she could find. She let the cow loose and filled its water trough, fed the dog and the chickens and the three shoats in the pigpen, then quickly washed up before gathering her things to head back into town.
Now she was more worried than ever about Genevieve. Perhaps Genevieve was simply in town, or visiting someone. It seemed highly unlikely she’d gone anywhere with Fred, but she supposed it was possible. She’d check again the next day. Hopefully Genevieve would be back at home and she’d find that nothing terrible had happened to her friend after all.
Chapter Four
Bill Hanover tickled Sarah’s ear with his beard and nuzzled into her neck to kiss her golden skin. “I love kissing you right here, Sarah Songan-Hanover,” he laughed, and kissed again, enjoying the goose-bumping of her skin beneath his touch.
“Mmmm …,”she murmured, then laughed. “We’ll never catch up with the cattle drive this way. We’re already running two weeks late. Come now, husband, we have to focus.” She playfully swatted him away from her neck and smiled into his dark eyes.
He’d grown a beard since they left Cutter’s Creek on the day of their wedding, and she thought it suited him. He looked like a true cowboy now, with his scraggly beard, weathered hat, red neckerchief and black leather chaps. He sat beside her on the hard wagon bench seat, the reins dangled loosely in his hands as Purdy plodded on. It had been a long journey from Cutter’s Creek, Montana into Texas. They’d stopped at various places along the way where Bill could find work.
The last place they’d settled was in Kansas, on a ranch where Bill helped with odd jobs around the place. Then when they’d left for Fort Worth, Purdy had gone lame, setting them back a couple of weeks. But they’d managed to stop in the nearest town to send a telegram to Thomas O’Reilly, Bill’s soon-to-be employer, to let him know. Thomas had told them to meet up with the rest of the group on the banks of the Red River, at the border between Texas and the Indian Territory, where the drive would meet the Chisholm Trail – a trail that would take them all the way into Kansas.
“Yes, my darling wife – you’re right, of course. Hiyaaaa!” He slapped the reins lightly on Purdy’s back. Sarah snuggled into Bill’s side and slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. She leaned her head against his strong shoulder and hummed a soft tune as they rode.
Before long they came to a small clearing beside a river where a group of schooners had congregated. The drivers of the wagons were conferring together as they pulled up alongside them. “Afternoon,” Bill greeted them with a wave.
“And to you,” called back one of the men. “Where’re you headed?”
“Red River.”
“Well, you found it. We just crossed and are setting out on the Chisholm Trail now. Good luck to you.” The man turned his wagon around and the group rolled off across the plains.
Keep reading… (Of Peaks & Prairies)
Also by Vivi Holt
Cowboys & Debutantes
Della
Hattie
Dalton
Paradise Valley *
Of Peaks and Prairies
Winds of Paradise
* Available in e-book, paperback and audio book
Cutter’s Creek
The Strong One
The Betrothed
Cherished
Season of Love
Captivated
Beguiled
Orphan Brides Go West
Mail Order Bride: Christy
Mail Order Bride: Ramona
Mail Order Bride: Katie
Visit my website for an updated list of my books
About the Author
Vivi Holt was born in Australia. She grew up in the country, where she spent her youth riding horses at Pony Club, and adventuring through the fields and rivers around the farm. Her father was a builder, turned saddler, and her mother a nurse, who stayed home to raise their four children.
After graduating from a degree in International Relations, Vivi moved to Atlanta, Georgia to work for a year. It was there that she met her husband, and they were married three years later. She spent seven years living in Atlanta and travelled to various parts of the United States during that time, falling in love with the beauty of that immense country and the American people.
Vivi also studied for a Bachelor of Information Technology, and worked in the field ever since until becoming a full-time writer in 2016. She now lives in Brisbane, Australia with her husband and three small children. Married to a Baptist pastor, she is very active in her local church.
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Copyright © 2017 by Vivi Holt
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