by Rye Hart
As she rode up to the hotel, she jumped off her bike and ran right up the stairs to the lobby. She didn't care that she looked a wild mess, she had more important things on her mind at the moment.
"Excuse me," she asked the front desk attendant. "Which room is Thomas Florian staying in?" she asked while catching her breath.
"I'm sorry ma'am," the attendant looked at her apologetically. "Mr. Florian just checked out today, perhaps less than a half hour ago."
Amelia stilled. "That's impossible, he was supposed to be staying here until the end of the week." Perhaps the attendant was mistaken.
"Yes," the attendant confirmed, "but it seems that Mr. Florian changed his mind."
Amelia was not to be discouraged. "Did he leave a forwarding address?" she asked earnestly? "Or maybe a letter for me? For Amelia?" she asked desperately.
"No, I'm very sorry. He did not give any specifics about where he was going, and he did not leave anything for anyone," the attendant said.
Amelia tried to contain the mixed emotions that rose up in her, but she couldn't help it. She knew that Thomas wouldn't just disappear on her without a word, yet she couldn't shake the sickening feeling that confirmed her worst fears. "I see," she said.
The attendant cast her a sympathetic look. "Perhaps ma'am, if you head around back to the carriages, he may not have left yet," the man offered.
Amelia's eyes lit up. "Thank you," she said eagerly. In a moment, she was heading toward the side door that led into the carriage yard.
As she stepped outside, she looked frantically around for Thomas's familiar face. It took her a second to spot him across the yard, just as he was stepping into a waiting carriage.
Without a moment’s hesitation, she started running toward him. "Thomas," she called out. She didn't want to miss him, as this may be the last moment for a while that she would be able to speak to him in person.
She saw Thomas turn around to look at her, his eyes widened with recognition, and his body stilled for a moment.
"Thomas wait," she called again.
It was in that moment Thomas's whole demeanor changed. Gone was the kind, generous, and caring attitude. Instead, the man that looked back at her over the rim of his spectacles was most definitely not the man that had wooed her.
Thomas shot her a hardened look, which caused Amelia to stop dead in her tracks.
"Thomas?" she asked just loud enough for the man several feet away from her to hear. His response shocked her.
"Drive on," he said with a commanding voice. In an instant he had disappeared inside of the small carriage.
The carriage lurched forward and began to roll, while Amelia stood in the middle of the yard, mouth agape.
She didn't want to believe it, but the evidence was openly blaring in her face. Thomas Florian had played her for a fool. The man she had idolized for years, the man that she had thought would help her art get the exposure it needed, the man that had told her he loved her. But why? she wondered. Then it all clicked.
He had taken advantage of her own naivety and now he was leaving her behind in the dust, taking her most prized possessions with him — her artwork.
As she watched him leave, Amelia felt powerless in her ability to stop him. And even if she could catch up to his fleeing carriage, how would she be able to convince him to give her back her work?
Fortunately, Amelia did not have to wait around long before an answer in the form of an auburn haired Texan rode in. Or, more accurately, was chasing down the carriage at breakneck speed on his bicycle.
She wanted to call out to James, tell him to stop before he got hurt, let him know that her art isn't worth it, but he was already too far away to hear her. Instead, she watched in horror as James brought his bike right up next to the speeding carriage, and with the agility of a man that had herded cattle, swerved in front the carriage and brought the horses to a screeching halt. She tried to see what was going on, but the dust that swirled around the scene obstructed her view.
At the same moment, she heard the rumbling of horses as the Valley Spring's law enforcement came riding in and surrounded the carriage.
She didn't care anymore, she just started running; she needed to know that James was safe.
"Hold up there ma'am," one of the men on horseback stopped her before she could get close to the scene. "It would be safer if you went back to the hotel," he told her.
"Back to the hotel?" she exclaimed. "How can I just go back and wait while James is probably bleeding, crushed beneath the wheels of the carriage!"
"Bleeding?" the man looked confused. "We are here to apprehend a wanted criminal."
"A criminal? But James was trying to stop the carriage, he is no —"
The man on the horse shook his head. "No, the famous artist or what have you. He's wanted on fraud charges across the country," he started to explain before his face went white. "Wait," he said hesitantly, "I wasn't supposed to talk about that," he said in a worried rush.
"I'm sure she will be able to keep things quiet," James laughed as he sauntered in between them. His face was covered with dirt, and his hair was in a state of unruly disarray, but his face displayed a satisfied grin.
"James!" Amelia exclaimed. She never thought she would be that excited to see him.
"Amelia," he nodded in her direction.
Amelia moved toward him, and as soon as she was within reaching distance, she punched him lightly in the arm. "How could you do that to me! I almost watched you be trampled to death by horses!" she burst.
James didn't even flinch, instead he shot her one of his infamous cocky smiles. "I knew what I was doing," he said teasingly.
"But I didn't know that! I thought I lost you." As she spoke, her voice grew shaky and tears welled up in her eyes. "I truely thought I lost you," she said, softer this time.
James's features softened. He quickly closed the small space between them and enveloped Amelia in a warm hug.
"I don't know what I would have done without you," she confessed.
"I'm sure you would have gotten on just fine," he reassured her gently. "Just like you've done for all these years without me," he spoke.
Amelia felt him pull back, and his hand comes around to tilt her chin up to look at him. In between a few hiccups, she replied, "What if I don't want to get along without you?"
James's gaze grew heated in response. "All I have to say to that," he shot her a cocky grin, "is that it is a good thing we have the rest of summer to get to know each other."
Amelia laughed in response. "You mean if we somehow survive summer without killing each other, we might have a shot?" she giggled.
"That's one way of describing it," he winked at her.
Although Amelia rolled her eyes in response to his statement, she didn't once stop smiling at him. She couldn't believe that he had come back for her and that he had rescued her precious artwork and helped stop the man that had tried to take advantage of her.
"Wait," she said hesitantly. "How did you know Thomas was a fraud?" she raised a quizzical eyebrow.
"Well," James suddenly looked a bit sheepish. He ran his hand through his hair nervously before continuing. "When I left you near the duckling nest, I had decided to confront Thomas and, if necessary, fight him for your honor."
Amelia gasped. "No you didn't," she breathed. She couldn't believe it. A part of her was horrified by what he told her, another part though, was excited by the idea.
"Well, when I found out that he had checked out, I knew that something was off," he continued. "So I went to the authorities, told them what I knew, and after a bit of digging, we realized that Thomas Florian was a wanted man."
"But why would he come here if he was wanted?" she asked "And how would he be able to stay here, in plain site, and no one ever figured it out?"
"Turns out it is a lot harder to keep track of all the wanted individuals across the country, and on top of that, the few people that knew, aren't the type to keep up with art shows," James explained.
"I feel so naïve," Amelia said. "How could I have gotten so caught up in his world, that I didn't realize what kind of person he was beneath the façade?"
"It wasn't just you Amelia, he has done this before," he said gently. "But now he won't be doing it again."
Amelia nodded. "Thank you James and I am truly sorry for how I treated you, you didn't deserve it," she added.
"Don't even think about it," he said with that familiar mischievous glimmer in his eye.
Amelia couldn't help but smile. "What am I going to do with you?" she breathed.
“I might have an idea,” he said and bent down to kiss her.
Amelia sighed as his mouth came against hers.
“Are you amenable to such a suggestion?” he whispered against her lips.
“Yes, a thousand times over. Yes,” she responded.
"Then your wish is my command," he said right before he pulled her closer into an all-consuming kiss.
The End
Corine
Chapter One
My name is Corine and my life hasn’t always been this difficult, but the last few years have really thrown me for a loop. I was a small town girl and I had planned on staying on my parent’s farm until I married a local boy that my parents would pick for me. I didn’t have much of a choice when it came to my future; not many women did in 1886. We were just along for the ride.
It was heart-breaking to consider the fact that my life wasn’t really my own. But as much as it tore me up inside, I tried not to dwell. The only way I was going to be happy was if I accepted my fate without a fight. It was enough for me to marry a man with farm land and to have a few children. I knew the world was bigger, but I was content to stay in Georgia.
Maybe my resignation came from ignorance. I didn’t know what was beyond the boundaries of my small town, so it didn’t interest me. I would occasionally find a pamphlet or book that talked about the big cities like Chicago and New York. They were bustling with activity and many of the women in Beaumont had left their families to travel to the cities in search of more exciting lives.
At first, it didn’t seem to matter that a few of the girls were leaving, but then it became difficult to find a family who was still intact. The men traveled west and the women traveled north. Families were split and fractured. Our once happy city was falling into a state of distress.
Soon there weren’t enough women to marry the men, and there weren’t enough men to run the farms. The land around my home began to wither and die. It was disheartening to watch everything I’d ever known slowly fade into nothing. I’d cried so many nights over what I knew was going to happen. Soon enough our little town wouldn’t be able to sustain itself and we would be forced to move somewhere else.
I could see the fear and uncertainty in my parents’ eyes as well, and this was cause for great alarm. We’d weathered hard times before, but nothing like this. I tried to trust that my father would know what to do so we could survive, but I could tell that even he faltered.
Our fears were realized soon enough and before long, we were leaving our family home behind in order to find work in one of the bigger cities. My father knew everyone was going to New York so he opted for Chicago, thinking there would be more opportunities for our family there.
When we arrived, we were met with the smell of strange machines we’d never seen before. The sounds were overwhelming and the sheer amount of people was terrifying. We didn’t know what to do so we just held onto each other and tried to make the best of the situation.
We moved into a small flat that was above a general store. The man charged us money every month which was a rather strange concept to us. We’d never really heard of rent before. Our homes had been built by and were passed down from family members.. Sometimes neighbors would build houses on new plots of land, but houses were rarely let out of family hands.
At first, it was just father who went out in search of a job. He was a farmer by trade and hadn’t really learned to do much else. In rural Georgia there wasn’t much of a need for another occupation. He knew a little bit about construction and eventually managed to get a job with a contracting company, though it didn’t last long. He was older and couldn’t move as fast as the company wanted him to.
The stress eventually became too much for my parents and they got sick thanks to the awful smog that filled the air. It weakened their bodies and soon enough they passed on and I was left young and alone.
No one was interested in marrying me. They saw me as a bumpkin from the fields of Georgia and wanted nothing to do with me. The men in Chicago were looking for women who had no morals. ‘Modern’ women who didn’t mind breaking the contracts of marriage. They wanted women who would go to work for them and share their beds at night. I refused to do either of those things. I’d already given up so much of my heritage and I just wasn’t ready to give up my beliefs too.
I decided to leave the crowded city and head out west where things were quiet and more like home. I was too scared to go back to Georgia, knowing that no matter where I went in the south, things were changing like they were in Beaumont. I didn’t have the heart to face it.
I’d heard a few of the women talking about mail order brides. You answered an ad and went out west where a husband was waiting for you. It seemed like my only way out, so I did exactly that. I answered an ad and took the money my future husband sent and used it to join a caravan.
Traveling through the nothingness of the expanding territories was torture. It would get very cold very quickly and danger seemed to be lurking around every corner. There were Indians everywhere, their eyes watching us through brush.
I’d never dealt with these people before, but their watchful eyes scared me. I would spend most of my days and nights huddled in one of the wagons, trying to avoid being seen. I would learn soon enough, that it wouldn’t protect me. The thin canvas wasn’t enough to keep me hidden from the watchful eyes of the Indians.
Our camp was raided one night, and everyone but me was killed in their sleep, slaughtered without a second thought. For some reason when the savages pulled back the flap of the wagon I was in and found me cowering in the corner, they decided to show me mercy, though I use that word loosely.
I was bound by the wrists and ankles and put on a horse that carried me away into the night, unsure of what they intended on doing with me.
Chapter Two
I’m not sure how many days have passed since I’ve been captured. I spend my days and nights in a single teepee with a guard. I’ve managed to learn a few words in the Indian’s native tongue, but not enough to communicate with them beyond telling them I’m thirsty or need to relieve myself.
It’s strange to me how normal their life seems. What little I knew about these people came from stories told by travelers. I wouldn’t have considered them kind, considering the fact that they slaughtered my entire traveling company, but they were just like us. There were children in the camp that ran around and played with the wild dogs, and there were mothers and fathers who sat around, cooking and laughing. Their lives were very similar to the rest of us; their ways weren’t completely alien.
The guards switched on and off and there didn’t seem to be a designated person who was tasked with watching me. The entire tribe seemed to be taking turns, rotating and keeping an eye on me. Sometimes it was older teenagers, and sometimes women. None of them were very worried about me escaping or causing any trouble. I was weak and tired, and I didn’t have it in me to fight my way out.
I winced and brought a hand up to my neck where a damp cloth had been placed. During my first days here, an older man with ornate head pieces carved an intricate design into the side of my neck. He’d used a bone that had been shaped into a needle and dipped it in colored water. It was a thick ink that burrowed into my skin.
I’d screamed aloud for the first few pricks but then my skin became almost numb to the sensation. I just stared across the vast plains as this man marked me. Each time he pressed the nee
dle into me, I became acutely aware that no man would want a wife who had been marked by Indians.
It was part of the reason I hadn’t tried to escape. I felt as if my life in the normal world was over. I’d heard of people who’d been captured by Indian’s trying to integrate themselves back into society. No one trusted them. They assumed that the person had gone rogue and was now working with the Indians. There was no sense of forgiveness and nobody cared about these people. They were all but tossed to the wolves and left to live out their days alone. It was more than a little upsetting and I didn’t want to go back to a world like that. At least here, I was fed and warm.
I curled up a little, drawing my knees to my chest as the woman who sat across from me watched me with a steady gaze. She had just changed the animal skin bandage that was resting against the strange scar the elderly man had marked me with.
Her eyes were dark and intense, though she seemed more curious than ready to hurt me. With the exception if the initial scare of my capture, no one here seemed to harbor any ill intent toward me.. It was rather strange, since I had been sure that I was going to be killed as soon as I was brought to their camp.
The flap of the tent flew open and a man stepped in, looking down at the woman who sat cross legged near the center of the teepee. They spoke to each other in a soft, melodic language I couldn’t even begin to understand. Though I didn’t understand the words that were being said, I got the sense that they were arguing about something.
The man grunted and waved his and the woman crossed her arms, as if defying him. After a moment the man seemed to grow angry and his hand flew out. I’d half expected him to grab her, but instead his fingers wrapped around my wrist as he yanked me to my feet, pulling me out of the teepee.
I gasped but had no choice but to follow the man as he was tugging me against him. I screamed and tried to scramble back towards the tent where the woman was yelling and following him. She looked as if she were trying convince him not to take me wherever I was going, but I couldn’t be sure.
