Page 12 of Redeeming the Outlaw
“Lord, help me understand these feelings,” she prayed under her breath. She had always tried to be a good, obedient daughter, just as the Bible taught, but Whit stirred up emotions in her she didn’t know how to handle.
Most of all, her heart ached with confusion over her feelings for Whit. She knew deep down he could never be more than a fantasy, yet being near him stirred something within her which both thrilled and frightened her. She had always prided herselfon being proper and dutiful, yet Whit made her feel alive in ways she didn’t understand.
As she looked at the sky, she replayed Whit’s words in her mind. The threat of his kiss still lingered, causing a tremor deep within her. She knew such thoughts were scandalous for a preacher’s daughter, yet she could not stop her traitorous heart from fluttering at the memory.
“I’ve been looking for you.”
Esther’s head snapped toward the source of the raspy voice, and she froze when she saw a man standing there. The man’s flesh was a patchwork of angry red and silvery white, a living roadmap of pain and survival, and it bore witness to a past which could not be unseen. His voice was hoarse and cracked, as if it had been scorched from within. One side of his head was missing hair, as if someone had scalped him. The other half was a mess of dark and gray patches.
Esther’s panicked scream became muffled as a man with a pocked face and a scar across his chin forcefully shoved a rag into her mouth. Before she could react, another man grabbed her arms and turned her around, sneering at her. Despite the fear gripping her, she tried to focus on their faces. Scarred, pocked, and the one with a sneer.
One of them threw an earthy potato sack over her head and wrapped a blanket around her, pinning her arms to her side. She felt her feet leave the ground as one of the men hoisted her onto his shoulder.
She could smell the stench of stale liquor on the clothing of the man who carried her, groaning her displeasure as he jostled her on his shoulder.
“Don’t hurt her.” Esther was sure the words came from the burned man. “Ma said not a hair was to be harmed on her beforeshe arrived.”
“God help me,” she prayed silently, struggling against her captor’s bonds.
“Your prayers won’t save you now,” the man said, as if reading her thoughts. She clung to her faith, vowing to herself she would not let these men break her spirit or her resolve. Instead, she would bide her time and wait for an opportunity to prove even in the darkest of times, God’s light could still shine through.
She was only carried a short distance before being handed off to someone else who placed her on his lap.
“Don’t get any ideas, Tom.”
Esther turned her head. She didn’t recognize the voice.
“Behave, preacher’s daughter,” the man named Tom hissed into her ear. “Behave and you won’t get hurt.”
She knew better than to trust their words; this wasn’t the first time she had been told to behave.
“Let’s ride,” someone called. The men took off, and the sound of horses running at breakneck speed filled her ears.
God, I know I’ve asked for excitement in my life, but not like this,Esther prayed.
She wished she could see where they were going. As they galloped further away from her home, her heart ached at the thought of her family’s anguish upon discovering her disappearance. She knew she had to be brave, not just for herself, but for them as well. She continued to plead silently. “If I make it out of this alive, I promise to marry whoever Papa chooses for me with no complaints or rebellion.”
As they rode further into the unknown, she couldn’t shake off the feeling that her fate was slipping out of her control, and she didn’t know how God was going to answer her prayers out in thewilderness.
Chapter Four
Whit wiped the sweat from his forehead as he tested the latch on the pigeon cage. Briggs had asked him to stop by Mrs. Brown’s house to fix a faulty latch which might lead to her prized pigeons escaping. Mrs. Brown relied on these pigeons to deliver messages to and from town, so it was crucial she properly contained and trained the birds.
He double-checked each cage, making sure the latches were secure and the birds were comfortable. One false move and they could be lost forever, their trained flight skills no match for the wild unknown beyond the safety of their cages. Once he was satisfied, he turned to Mrs. Brown and gave her a thumbs up. She smiled in relief, knowing her important communication system was safe once again.
“I think that is it, ma’am,” Whit said, his hand resting againstthe tower of wire and wood.
Sarah Brown held tight to the basket of eggs clutched in her hands. Her dark hair was falling from its neat bun, wisps framing her delicate face. Though she was nearing thirty, her smooth complexion and bright eyes gave her a youthful glow.
“Thank you ever so much, Mr. Moore. I rely on these birds more than you can imagine,” she said.
Whit tipped his hat politely. “Of course, ma’am. Happy to help.”
He studied her for a moment, detecting a hint of sadness in her smile. Though he knew little about the widow who kept to herself, he sensed a lingering grief over her husband’s passing years ago. She had no children of her own but had taken in several boys who had lost their parents because of the fever.
“Well, I best be going. You take care now.”
“Are you sure you can’t stay for dinner, Mr. Moore?”
