A Journey for Hope (The Reluctant Wagon Trade Bride #9)
(By Patricia PacJac Carroll)
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| Author | Patricia PacJac Carroll |
Hope Joy Roberts wrapped her shawl around her and then picked up the old Bible her grandfather gave her. She hugged the leather book close to her and could still smell Grandfather's rosemary spice, leather, and the tonic he splashed on his hair. It was because of the old itinerant preacher that she ministered to the ladies of the night. It took the women several months before they accepted her, but she’d helped enough of them that they trusted that she came with more than words and judgment.
Hope walked to the saloon on First Street, went through the swinging doors, and nodded at the bartender. “I’ve only come to bring Good News.”
“They’re waiting for you. Even Delilah got up in time.”
“Good.” Hope went up the stairs and knocked on the door.
Angel, the madam of the house, let her in. “I’m so glad you’re here. We think something is going on with Sheriff Specter. He said we couldn’t leave the saloon today.”
Hope set her reticule down on the nearest table and took off her shawl. “Julie Ann, you look chilled. Take my shawl.” She went to the thin woman, girl really, and put it around her bony shoulders.
“So, you think Specter is up to something? I have to agree. I saw him yesterday, and he wouldn’t even look me in the eye.”
There was a loud knock on the door. Hope looked at Angel. “Are you expecting anyone else?”
“On a Sunday afternoon? Not hardly. All the good folks are home eating lunch with their families. They don’t think of us until well after dark.” Angel laughed, but there was no joy in it.
They didn’t need an answer because half-a-dozen men broke into the room. Before Hope knew what was happening, a sack was thrown over her head, and she was tossed over a man’s shoulder and carted down the stairs. By the screams, she was not the only one.
Through a slit in the canvas bag, Hope recognized the sheriff talking with the wagon master who had rolled into town last week. Douglas Crane had seemed decent enough at the time.
Sheriff Specter shook hands with the wagon master. “We’ve got you ten. Just like you asked.”
Douglas Crane nodded. “Here’s the money. A hundred for each one. The men on the wagon train will thank you.”
Specter laughed. “I doubt it, but you’ve got brides for your men.””
