Snatching The Bride (Family of Love Series) (A Western Romance Story)

by Elliee Atkinson

Bruce went silent. He looked like he was brooding over the question. “Nah, she ain’t dead. But I bet she wishes she was.”

  “You think someone came in here and took her in the middle of the night, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “Why do you think that’s what happened?”

  “Cause her stuff is still here.”

  “All of her stuff?”

  Bruce nodded, pulling himself to his feet. “Come on and look.”

  “In her room?” Andrew sounded skeptical.

  “Yeah.”

  “Should I be going in her room? Feels like an invasion of privacy.”

  Bruce narrowed his eyes, walking toward the door of Becky’s room while looking at Andrew over his shoulder. “If she didn’t want people going through her room, she shouldn’t have disappeared.” He opened the door and ushered Andrew in.

  Andrew took in the look of the room, plain but pretty. Clothes and shoes in the closet. The lined up stuffed animals. He opened his mouth to say something but Bruce held up his hand and shook his head. “Don’t ask questions about the dolls. If she doesn’t come back for them, I’m havin’ a bonfire.”

  “They are neat little things. I could take them home to my kids if you want. Better than burning them.”

  Bruce raised one eyebrow. “Who says so?”

  “How long are you going to wait before you… dispose of them?” Andrew contained his disappointment and anger as well as he could. Bruce’s uncaring attitude made him furious but he wanted to keep in the loop of this search. His wife was very concerned for Becky.

  The main reason Andrew had volunteered, beside the urging of his wife, was because they both wanted to know if Bruce had killed Becky and buried her somewhere. Andrew wanted to stay close to Bruce because if the man slipped up in any way, Andrew would handle the situation appropriately. He would shoot Bruce right where he stood.

  So far, Andrew had not spotted any markings that led him to believe Bruce had harmed Becky. There were no shallow graves, large barrels, or other items large enough to hold a body. The thought had crossed his mind that he could have dismembered the body and buried or hid the parts in different places.

  He turned away from the room and headed back to the chair he’d been sitting in. He didn’t want to look through Becky’s private things. They were just that. Private. He didn’t want her to feel violated when she came back and saw that her things had been messed with.

  Bruce followed him back and plopped down on the couch, leaning forward to pour himself some more vodka, which he tossed back in one swallow, and filled the glass again. Andrew couldn’t believe the amount of alcohol the man was able to tolerate and still be standing up.

  He took another, bigger swig of the vodka and immediately sucked juice from the apple. It was a satisfying feeling. He thought he might need to start using an apple if he ever chose to drink.

  “Does the trick work for ya?” Bruce said, grinning like he’d shown Andrew the crown jewels.

  “It sure does, thanks for telling me about it.”

  “No problem, no problem.”

  “Does this work for every type of liquor? Would the whiskey have the same reaction to it?”

  “You know, I’m not sure about that. I used to always keep apples for my vodka. I don’t use them much anymore because I’ve become tolerant to the liquor. So my body expects me to drink now. No need to have something else chasing after my buzz.”

  “You seem to have no trouble keeping your job.”

  Bruce snorted. “Of course. They don’t wanna mess with me. They know better.”

  Again, Bruce’s utter lack of compassion or sympathy amazed Andrew. He was arrogant, and though he may be a larger man, it didn't make him smarter or better than anyone in the town. Andrew felt like slapping the big man on his face and shoving him down some stairs. He didn’t, though. He sat there with a look of disdain, downing more and more vodka until the bottle was nearly empty. Andrew was still on his first glass.

  “All right, you gotta take the rest of this,” Bruce leaned forward, swaying slightly, getting his balance and looking up to see if Andrew had seen any of it, which had had. He was not drunk and could tell that Bruce was. He allowed Bruce to shakily pour the rest of the vodka from the bottle into his glass. He picked it up and held it up for a toast. Bruce looked surprised but put his glass up, and they clinked.

  “Here’s to finding your girl Becky before sundown and let her be safe and sound.”

  It seemed to Andrew that Bruce reluctantly lifted his glass and clinked it for the toast. “Yeah,” he said.

  “You gonna want to go out again in the morning?”

  “I gotta work in the morning,” Bruce said. “But after work we should go. We’ll do that other side that we didn’t get to today and see if Adam and Mark have another section for us. I told him I don’t want to search anymore.”

  Andrew nodded. “I was there.”

  “Yeah, you were, weren’t you? I gotta think she’s being held somewhere and for the life of me, I don’t know where that is. I don’t know who would take her. I don’t know why they’d want her. She ain’t nothin’ special. She ain’t pretty, she got no money. Yeah, she can make babies but who wants someone just to make babies?”

  Andrew chuckled. “There are plenty of people who want to have babies and might be desperate enough to kidnap a young woman like her. I think she’s very pretty. And most women don’t have money of their own unless they are spinsters. I hope you’re not gonna make your sister into a peasant.”

  Bruce shook his head. “No, what she does is her business. I’m not keeping her back from anything.”

  Andrew was shocked that Bruce had no idea how his own hypocrisy sounded coming from his mouth.

  “You don’t think keeping her here is cooping her up? Keeping her back from accomplishing things? Does she have any interests? Does she go to groups? Like a sewing or craft group?”

  Bruce only shook his head without responding.

  “You’re sure? What about all those stuffed animals. Surely they count as a hobby. I’m sure she misses them dearly. They seem to be her only friends.”

  “Well, they can be trusted, can’t they? They don’t talk back, never yell and…” he trailed off.

  Andy would never know that Bruce had stopped because he suddenly had the realization that what he was saying were things he had not realized.

  “Anyway, yeah, she treasures them. I don’t touch em. I tried once when we were kids. My mother beat me up one side and down the other when she found out I ripped one of them apart.”

  “I hope you apologized,” Andrew said.

  Bruce snorted in disgust. “Apologize? Me? Never. She didn’t expect an apology. Especially not something that I was right about.”

  “You went crazy over a stuffed animal. I’m trying to figure out what she could have done to anger you so.”

  “I don’t even remember now. She did something though and my first instinct was to destroy something I knew she cared about. That was the doll. It was the only human doll she made. She put buttons on it for eyes, embroidered a little mouth, and even attached a small nose. I know she took a lot of time on that thing. That’s why it was the one I chose to rip up. She hasn’t made a human doll since. They are all animals.”

  Andrew tried not to show his utter disgust at what the man had just told him. It was not surprising that he had no friends. Only a degenerate and a jerk would pal around with the likes of Bruce Dupont. He turned his head away so that Bruce wouldn’t see the anger that had to have flashed across his face.

  “I’ll probably go ahead and join Mark and Adam if they continue searching once you are done. I am very curious why she would just leave everything behind like that. Did you notice any clothes gone?”

  Bruce shook his head. “I didn’t notice anything. Her room looked the same from the last time I saw it. And I don’t go in her room a lot. Only stand at the door and talk to her. I don’t wanna go in her room.”

  �
�Then you understand why I didn’t want to,” Andrew said incredulously. “You’re saying you never went in her room, so you know nothing that could be missing?”

  “I know of nothing,” Bruce replied. “Feel free as a bird to go and search with Mark and Adam. She’s been gone a long time. I gotta decide what I’m gonna do. I don’t think she’s coming back, if she’s even alive.”

  “I don’t know either, friend,” Andrew said, even though he did not consider Bruce to be his friend. “I don’t know either.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  A VISIT

  A VISIT

  Later that same day, as the sun began to set, Bruce was passed out on the couch in his living room when a knock at the door woke him. He turned his head quickly, and then winced in pain as a nerve in his neck pinched. He pushed himself up from the couch with a grunt and shuffled to the door.

  When he opened it, he saw a stranger, a man with blond hair and blue eyes.

  “Howdy, stranger!” the man said.

  “What do you want?” Bruce asked in a gruff, just woke up voice.

  “I’ve been talking to my friend, Adam Collins. He says your sister is missing. I’d like to help you look for her. Here,” the man lifted up a large bottle of vodka. “Also though you might like to have a drink or two.”

  Bruce’s eyes widened when he saw the bottle. He stepped back and pulled the door open. “Come on in. I’m Bruce Dupont. You probably know that. My sister is Becky. She’s the one who is gone. Vanished from her room one night.”

  The man held out his hand to shake. “Kenny. Kenny Abramson is the name.”

  Bruce looked him up and down. “Ain’t I seen you before?”

  Kenny shrugged. “Oh, I’ve been in the Horse N Saddle a few times when you were there,” he lied. “But I don’t think you would have noticed me. I’ve also been staying in the Lewinsky’s house while they are away. So you might have seen me over there.”

  Bruce bobbed his head in what Kenny could only assume was a nod.

  “Well, come on in; don’t leave yourself on the porch all day.” Bruce stepped back and Kenny passed in front of him.

  He looked around the living room and through the doorway to the kitchen, feeling strange to be in Becky’s house when she was in his. He turned back to Bruce, not wanting to appear too inquisitive.

  “I’ve always tried to help in bad situations whenever I can. And I’ve seen your sister on and off since staying at the Lewinsky’s. She seems nice, if a bit timid.”

  Bruce’s eyes lifted from the bottle in Kenny’s hands to his face, narrowing a bit. “You ever talk to her?” His voice came off in a menacing way and Kenny immediately shook his head and lifted his hands, specifically holding the bottle just a bit closer to Bruce to catch his eye again. It worked and Kenny held in his glee.

  “I’ve never had the opportunity. She just seems nice and I thought you could use an extra hand looking for her.”

  Bruce shook his head, flapping one hand in the air as if he didn’t care. “I’m not gonna do much more searching for her. I figure she’s left or someone took her and, maybe, she might be dead.”

  “Did you get along with her?” Kenny asked.

  Bruce glared at him. “What kind of question is that? You think I killed my sister?”

  Kenny shook his head vigorously. “Oh, no, sir. I do not think you killed her. In fact, I am certain you didn’t. That’s why I’d like to help.”

  Bruce went to the kitchen and retrieved two small glasses. He came back and sat down on the chair. “Sit,” he instructed Kenny, gesturing at the chair across from him. Kenny did as he was told, letting the demand slide through him without offense. “So, you don’t think I killed her and buried her in the woods?” he asked, pouring them both a glass of liquor.

  “No. I don’t.”

  Bruce looked up at him. “How can you be so sure?”

  Kenny had an uncomfortable moment when he thought that maybe Bruce might be smarter than he thought and coming here might not be such a good idea. He thought quickly and responded as soon as he could so that there would be no hesitation in his voice.

  “To be truly honest with you, Bruce, since I’ve been staying at the Lewinsky’s, it’s been a pleasure to hear your sister singing while putting up the laundry. I noticed that she had not done that in nearly two weeks. I was worried and talked to my friend, Adam, who told me what was going on. I want to help bring back that songbird. I suppose that sounds selfish of me.”

  “It doesn’t sound selfish.” It was the first time Kenny thought he heard a morsel of decency in Bruce’s voice. He was probably thinking about how he wanted her back too, so he could continue in the lifestyle to which he had become accustomed. Kenny didn’t think he’d be able to handle a housekeeper, much less one that would put up with his demanding, violent, drunken ways.

  Bruce lifted the small glass and drank the vodka in one swallow. Kenny wasn’t about to do that. He had drunk vodka plenty of times in his life, but he had never drunk it like Bruce.

  “Tell me about your sister, Bruce. You haven’t had success finding her yet, but surely there’s some kind of information you can give me that would help me find her. I’ve done it before, you know. Found missing people. I’m pretty observant when it comes to that.”

  Bruce pushed himself back up to his feet, leaned over, and poured another glass for himself before gesturing to Kenny to follow him. Kenny stood up, wondering what was going to happen next. “I’m gonna show you her room.” Bruce said. “Maybe you can find a clue in there, although I gotta say, if Adam and Mark don’t find anything, I don’t see what makes you think you will. They are the smartest men in Wickenburg.”

  Kenny smiled. “They are good men, to be sure.”

  He stepped into Becky’s room and felt sudden warmth pass over him. He knew his love for the woman was growing every day. Now that he was in her room, her private thoughts, decorations, her very heart was in this room. He could tell. He hadn’t had time to see anything during the dark when he’d taken her away. Now, it was like a refreshing breeze passing over his hot skin. He immediately noticed the stuffed animals.

  “Wow.” It was all he could think of to say.

  “Yeah, she made ‘em all herself.”

  “Looks like maybe she needed some friends.”

  Bruce snorted. “Other people have told me the same thing and I’ll tell you what I tell them. She wanted to be here. She was who she was and she didn’t want anything to change. We got along just fine.”

  “Really?” Kenny regretted the doubt that was obvious in his voice.

  Bruce’s eyes darted to Kenny’s face. “You trying to say we didn’t? You lyin’ about believin’ I didn’t kill her?”

  Bruce was a large man, larger than Kenny. However, Kenny wasn’t afraid of him. He was already finished with the second glass of vodka and soon would be feeling the effect of the sleeping potion Kenny had added to it. He had spent several hours scanning through his books to find a natural way to put someone to sleep. The ingredients had to be readily available to them. Then he had trekked his way through the woods to retrieve the ingredients. Bruce would wake up. He wouldn’t have any memory of what had transpired and there would be no leftover pain. He would simply fall asleep.

  He looked directly into Bruce’s eyes and shook his head. “No, Bruce. I don’t think you killed her. I know you didn’t. I have heard you yelling at her before. I have seen her crying because of it. But I also hear her singing and, from the way I see it, you simply wouldn’t do that to your sister.”

  “You sayin’ I’m lily-livered?”

  Kenny was having trouble finding words that would not offend Bruce in some way. He took everything Kenny was saying and twisted it. Kenny decided quickly that all he had to do was agree with whatever Bruce had to say. He only needed to wait until Bruce went to sleep.

  “So…” Kenny moved his head around the room. “You mind if I look around in here?”

  Again Bruce flapped his hand noncha
lantly. “You do what you want. I ain’t interested in nothing in here.”

  “You didn’t notice anything missing?”

  “I don’t know what she has,” Bruce’s voice was harsh. He’d been asked that question many times and it bothered him each time. He, in fact, knew nothing about his sister and the guilt that came with that made him upset. “I gotta get another drink. You want one?”

  “No, I’ll get it when I go back in there. Want to look around with a clear head, you know?”

  “Yeah.”

  He left Kenny alone in the room to ponder and picture what it had been like for Becky living in this one room her entire life. He went to her dresser table and noticed a small stack of papers in a corner drawer. When he saw what was written on them, he felt simultaneously guilty and curious. He shouldn’t be reading her personal things.

  In the end, his curiosity got the better of him and he sat down on the chair of the dressing table and began to read. They were letters Becky had been writing to her deceased mother. He flipped through them briefly and noticed they went back the entire year. He opened a drawer below and saw that it was completely stacked with similar papers. She must have been writing to her mother at least once a week for sixteen years.

  Kenny’s heart ached. The girl was so lonely she was writing letters to her dead mother. It made Kenny want to cry but no tears came. He read the first few entries, the last ones she had written before he took her.

  As he read, he was covered in chills. The letters were a mix of her describing things about her life and asking her mother questions to begging for the Lord to help her live on. Her letters were so sad, desperate, and heartfelt, Kenny was left feeling a heavy weight tugging on his heart. The most recent two letters were hidden under the ones from last month. He began to read them and was stunned to see his name was in both of them. What she said covered his body in chills.

  Dear Mama,

  I met a young man staying at the Lewinsky’s today. I was a little afraid at first, but it really seemed like the more time I spent with him, the more comfortable I got. Don’t get me wrong, Mama, I only spent a few minutes talking to him. But he seemed so charming and nice. I’ve never gotten a chance to meet any adult men, since Bruce won’t let me out of the house. I’m lucky to have Alice and Lucy come over to visit sometimes. Blessed. I’m blessed. Sorry, Mama. I know you never believe in luck. You have always told me that even the smallest things should be praised as blessings and not as mere luck. Do you think I should go and see Kenny again? He might want some company. I could bake him a cake or a nice pot of coffee. I don’t know if I’ll be brave enough to do that. But I’d like to.