In His Thoughts
Blemished Brides, Book 5
Peggy L Henderson
Copyright © 2018 by Peggy L Henderson
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Editor: Barbara Ouradnik
Cover: Collin Henderson
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Other books in the Blemished Brides Series (each book is a standalone, so they do not need to be read in order)
In His Eyes
In His Touch
In His Arms
In His Kiss
In His Thoughts
Contents
Introduction
Dear Reader
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Introduction
Ben Ferguson faces each day as it's handed to him. Assigned to a position in the newly formed Yellowstone National Park, life seems like it couldn't get any better. But patrolling for poachers is fraught with danger, and he soon finds his future looking bleak. Images of a blue-eyed guardian angel are the only thing he has to pull him from the edge of death.
Crazy. Weak. Worthless. Demon-possessed. Clara Youngblood has been labeled many things by people who cannot understand the challenges she must confront every day within her own mind. Without the support of family or friends, she is terrorized daily by fear and impending doom. When all seems dark, a glimmer of hope appears in the form of a retired soldier.
Ben & Clara wouldn't have chosen the circumstances that brought them together, but they soon discover their importance in rescuing each other. Strength of heart and mind are not always visible in outward appearances, but love and support can overcome the uncertainties of tomorrow.
Dear Reader
“Don’t Assume I’m weak because I have panic attacks.
You’ll never know the amount of strength it takes to face the world each day.”
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This story was previously published in the anthology Gunsmoke & Gingham, and now that the anthology is no longer available and I have my publishing rights back, it is republished as a new story in the Blemished Brides Series. This new edition is 30% longer than the previous one, and contains several new chapters and a modified ending.
The heroine in this book suffers from anxiety and panic attacks. I myself suffer from panic attacks, anxiety disorder, and depression. Anxiety has been with my since early childhood. Depression hit in my teens, and the panic attacks started after witnessing the death of my father. It is difficult to explain to people who have never had anxiety, depression, or panic disorder what goes through one’s mind, or why we even have these fearful episodes or bouts of depression in the first place. Many times, we don’t even know the reasons ourselves.
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The mind is not rational at times of anxiety, and I wanted to show a realistic viewpoint of this condition. Not everyone who suffers from anxiety experiences it in the same way, and my descriptions of the heroine’s episodes and her thought processes are based on what I go through. Although I didn’t sugarcoat this terrible mental disorder, I probably held back in places where I could have been even more descriptive.
This book was difficult for me to write. While there are scenes that describe what goes on in the heroine’s mind while she is in a state of panic, there are many more instances where she is having irrational (or what would seem to others as irrational) thoughts about things. My editor left me the following comment after reading one of the chapters: “Knowing this is what you go through, it is very hard for me to read. My greatest prayer is that as you write these words, you are being freed from their grip.”
Even though the heroine suffers from anxiety and panic attacks, the story is also one of hope, and that, while the condition may not ever go away, it can be managed when surrounded by those who offer love, support, and understanding.
Chapter 1
Yellowstone National Park, May 1893
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The horse moved cautiously through the wet marsh, sinking in the deep slush every now and then. Patches of snow still clung to some of the shadier hillsides, but the land was emerging from a long winter slumber, and green grasses grew everywhere. The first wildflowers of the season began to emerge, adding yellow and blue hues to the already-colorful landscape.
Lieutenant Ben Ferguson gave his mount a reassuring pat on the neck. Riding through thick marsh may be harder on the horse at the moment, but he’d chosen this route to avoid the unseen risks of the area.
“Not much further, and the going won’t be so bad.”
“Riding through this bog may be slower, but we’re not in danger of cooking to death here.”
Ben’s companion, Michael Osborne, offered a wide grin. The scout was just a kid, no older than fifteen, but he spoke with the kind of wisdom only learned from having lived in this area all his life. Ben would trust Michael with his life, despite his age.
This was the boy’s first season as an official scout for Company M, stationed at Fort Yellowstone. For years, he’d been a constant presence around the fort, supplying the soldiers with fresh meat no matter the season, and lately, scouting for the army. With his vast knowledge of the land, he’d been invaluable in bringing in poachers that may have otherwise escaped capture.
Ben squinted into the distance. Heavy plumes of steam rose from the ground and along the nearby hills. They almost looked like dozens of campfires in the crisp, early morning air, but this wasn’t smoke. Hot water from the nearby geysers and hot springs that covered this land created the steam, and it was especially pronounced when the air was cool. At least they made it easier to see where not to lead his horse.
The earth in this particular part of the Yellowstone country was as dangerous as it was beautiful. One wrong step, and a man could get burned to death in an instant. Some of the picturesque pools of hot water could melt the flesh off a person.
When he’d first been assigned to Company M of the US Cavalry and stationed at Fort Yellowstone, he’d had no idea what awaited him. Freshly graduated from West Point in 1886, he’d been sent to this remote part of the country to help establish law and order in the newly created national park.
A little more than a decade earlier, the vast land had been designated a national park to preserve its beauty from encroaching fortune-seekers. Prior to the army’s arrival, lawless men overran the land, plundering and destroying the very things the government had set aside to protect.
One lone man - Michael’s father, Josh Osborne - had originally been assigned as gamekeeper to oversee the territory and keep lawless people out, but it was an impossible job, and the government had finally sent in the army.
When Ben had arrived in 1886, the construction of Fort Yellowstone had just begun in an area where the hot springs looked like giant mountains of frosted cakes. He’d been in awe of the wonders of the land, and he’d never been more certain that he’d made the right decision to leave his home in Kentucky to go to West Point, and from there, seek adventure and excitement out we
st.
Growing up on a sprawling Kentucky horse ranch, the adventurous spirit had been in him since his youth. His father, Gus Ferguson, had served a lifetime as groundskeeper for a rich family of Kentucky thoroughbred breeders. It was a life his father enjoyed, but something more than working for the elite had always called to Ben. Being stationed in one of the harshest, most remote outposts in the country had turned out to be exactly what he craved.
“Shouldn’t be more than another ten miles or so, and we’ll reach the patrol cabin.” Ben glanced at Michael, then gazed off into the distance. Thick white clouds hovered in the azure sky. An eagle soared overhead, its call echoing off the nearby hills. Several ravens fluttered about, trying to taunt the raptor, but the majestic bird continued on its course.
“I’m sure a new detail will be waiting there for us by now. I’m ready to head back to Fort Yellowstone and hand over patrol duties in this part of the park to them.”
For the last two weeks, Ben had been on patrol with Michael south of Fort Yellowstone. It was Ben’s first excursion into the vast interior of the park since the winter snows had receded.
Michael nodded with a sly grin. The youth’s raven hair was cropped short, but his chiseled features and dark skin revealed the Shoshone blood that flowed in his veins. “Weeks ago, you were eager to leave the north end of the park and head south.”
“I think most of the men are eager to get out and patrol the park again, now that spring has returned.”
The winters in the Yellowstone country were long and lonely, and the summers short. Soldiers had lost their lives during the frigid climate when they’d been out patrolling the land on skis, and some were on the brink of losing their minds from boredom and the sheer isolation of this place.
Ben loved it all - from the frigid cold temperatures to the dangers of the hot springs and geysers, to the majestic beauty of the grand yellow-rocked canyon with the turquoise river that flowed through it and for which this park was named. This had been his home for the past seven years, and he had no desire to leave.
He smiled as he soaked in the scenery around him. In the distance, a plume of smoke rose higher than the rest. Old Faithful, the geyser named for its predictability to go off every hour, was putting on a show. Ben had passed a caravan of wealthy pleasure-seekers a while ago who’d been heading in that direction, probably the first of the season. They were, no doubt enjoying nature’s grand display this very moment.
Michael leaned forward in his saddle, then glanced at Ben. By the look on his face, there was something on the youth’s mind.
“You’re thinking about home, aren’t you?” Ben returned the smile, following the young man’s gaze.
Not far from here, several cabins nestled in the Madison Valley, the last homestead to remain inside the boundaries of the park by special permission from the government. Michael’s family had lived in that valley for generations, long before white men had discovered the area. His half-Shoshone father currently resided at the homestead with Michael’s white mother. Once they were gone, the homestead would be torn down to allow the valley to be reclaimed by nature.
“It’s not far.” Michael glanced at Ben with a question in his eyes. There was no doubt what was going through the boy’s mind. Even though they were friends, Ben was in charge since the kid was on the army payroll, and Michael seemed reluctant to ask his question.
“Why don’t you go and see your folks, and we can meet up at the patrol cabin in two days?” Ben winked at the youth.
Michael’s smile brightened his features and his dark eyes twinkled. “Is that an order, Lieutenant?”
“No, but I know it’s what you want to do. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t go see them. We’re practically in the neighborhood.”
Michael nodded. He didn’t make a move to ride off, though. He glanced at Ben, studying him through eyes that revealed more wisdom than his youth should portray, then asked, “Do you miss your family, Lieutenant? You haven’t seen them in nearly ten years.”
The question was rather unexpected. Ben glanced off into the distance, watching smoke billow from one of the geysers on the horizon.
“Sure, I miss my father and my brothers. My mother died when I was young. I don’t even remember her.”
“You’ve not spoken of your family very often. I’ve seen you write letters, but you don’t talk about them.”
Ben shrugged. “There’s not much to talk about. My father is responsible for the upkeep of a large horseracing farm in Kentucky. I have two brothers who left home around the same time I did. I’ve lost touch with them, but I have corresponded with my adoptive brother.”
“Adoptive brother?”
“Sam Hawley. He’s not really my brother, but my father took him in as a young kid and raised him with the rest of us. He’s doing well for himself now, too. Has his own farm, and a wife, and family.”
“You didn’t enjoy life in Kentucky, or breeding horses?” Michael chuckled, then added, “My father, in his youth, raised a few horses. I always thought it was odd, since our relatives, the Sheepeater Shoshone, didn’t have horses.”
Ben studied the kid. The Indians in this area had been driven out of the park and sent to reservations, even though this was their ancestral home. It was believed that a few small bands still roamed the mountains and eluded the army.
As an army officer, it was Ben’s job to round them up and send them to reservations, but he never asked Michael about them. If he didn’t know where to look for any Indians that might still be in the park, he couldn’t detain them, and he had no desire to do so. If Michael knew of their whereabouts, he’d never spoken of them.
“I don’t know whether I want to go back to Kentucky someday, but I’ve always had it in mind to settle somewhere with a small plot of land and raise a few horses when I retire from the army.” Hopefully, that day was still a long way off. For now, his life in Yellowstone was more than fulfilling.
“No thoughts of a family of your own?” Michael grinned.
Ben smirked. “Never crossed my mind.”
The last time he’d checked, there weren’t any women at Fort Yellowstone, and subjecting a woman to that kind of remote living was out of the question. After all these years in this harsh land, living away from civilization, he’d probably forgotten how to act in polite society.
“Be off with you, and don’t be late getting back to the patrol cabin. You have two days.”
Michael, no doubt realizing he’d been dismissed and the conversation had ended, saluted like a soldier, then nudged his horse out of the marsh. Once he was closer to the hills, he urged his mount into a lope. Minutes later, he disappeared from view.
Ben stared after him, then gave his horse another pat on the neck, and guided the animal around an area where steam drifted through cracks in the brittle soil. He kept his eye on the ground for the better part of the late morning, careful not to get too close to any of those vents. The animal tensed suddenly, a split-second before a gunshot echoed through the valley, followed quickly by several more.
Poachers. No one else would be shooting in quick succession like that. Ben pulled his rifle from its scabbard and nudged his horse into a lope, heading in the direction from where the shots had come. The bison had all but disappeared in this park, and now the poachers were going after the elk and other game.
More shots rang out, then someone shouted. Ben pulled his horse up, cursing under his breath. He had to go slow. This was a dangerous area for him to be in pursuit of anyone. He leapt from his horse to continue on foot, seeking cover behind the bare, matchstick-looking trees that were abundant in this area.
Not a hundred yards ahead, a lone rider aimed his rifle at an elk. Ben raised his weapon and sighted the man, then fired before the poacher could get off another shot. The man let out a loud curse and fell off his horse. Ben aimed again. He waited several seconds, but there was no movement from the outlaw. Had his shot killed the man? He hadn’t aimed to kill. Perhaps he was bluffing.
Ben straightened from a crouched position. Holding the rifle in front of him, he advanced toward his foe, careful to step lightly on the crusty soil. Smoke drifted around him, and boiling water roiled nearby like a hot pot over a flame. He was in the middle of an area with thin crust, but he had to get closer to the man he’d shot.
As he approached, Ben glanced at several dead elk in the tall grasses. They’d been freshly killed. He shook his head at the waste. The poachers never took all of the animals. Only the hides, tongues, and maybe the antlers, but this was the wrong season for those.
A couple of birds fluttered into the air from some nearby shrubs, and Ben tensed. Something had startled the birds from their hiding place, and it wasn’t him. He turned his upper body in the direction of the vegetation, then quickly back to where the poacher lay.
A shot fired. Ben cursed. The impact of the shooter’s bullet wasn’t immediate as his heart raced and anger coursed through him. He fired back, then slumped to the ground as heat seared through his upper thigh. The shot hadn’t come from the man lying on the ground. He’d been ambushed. There was more than one poacher.
Ben sank to his knees and clutched at his wounded thigh. Blood soaked through the blue britches of his uniform. He gritted his teeth and raised his rifle, ready to shoot at any movement. Trouble was, he was out in the open with little cover. Dropping to his belly, he slithered to the nearest bare tree stump, dragging his injured leg, just as another shot fired. Ben immediately fired back. This time, it had come from the fallen man. Concealed in the tall grass, Ben’s opponent was difficult to see.
In His Thoughts Page 1
