Page 35 of Redeeming the Outlaw
As she reached the last horse, she jumped onto a large rock and then onto its back, clinging to the animal’s mane as they galloped down the trail toward the secret spot Whit had shown her.
“Esther! Where are you going?” Brodie’s voice echoed through the trees, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she leaned lower against the animal’s neck, gripping the reins and mane tightly, and urged it forward. The images of Whit’s battered form and the desperate hope she could save him consumed her thoughts as the horse charged down the trail.
“Dear Lord, help me.”
She strained to remember the path she needed to take. Her horse’s hooves pounded against the dirt path as she rode, sweat beading on her forehead from the intense ride. Fear and exhaustion clouded her mind as she attempted to remember exactly how far down the path she needed to go. Using everyounce of strength left in her body, she trusted in her memory and the Lord’s guidance to lead her to safety.
Finally, the trees thinned, and she slowed down, looking over her shoulder for any signs of pursuit. Seeing no one behind her, she took a deep breath, but knew there was no time to relax. Suddenly, a glimmer of light caught her eye. The black rock stood tall, like a beacon in the distance. The sun reflected off its surface, making it shine brighter than all the other rocks around it.
Without hesitation, she dug her heels into the horse’s sides and directed it toward the creek. The chilly water splashed and soaked through her skirt against her legs as they charged through the rushing current. She guided the horse up the bank and through the thick bushes on the other side, never once slowing down until she was across the field.
“Help! Please help me!” Esther cried out, bringing the horse to a halt just outside the front door. She slid from the back of the horse, her legs wobbling beneath her from terror and exhaustion. Fumbling with the door, she banged on the wooden surface, praying someone would hear her.
There was yelling from inside and the sound of wood scraping against the floor before silence. Esther banged on the door again.
“Help me!” Her voice cracked with desperation as she turned to see a horse and rider crashing through the dense bushes, heading straight for the farmhouse. With shaking hands, she frantically pounded on the door, praying someone would answer and let her in.
Finally, the door swung open with a haunting creak, revealing a woman armed with a rifle. Esther could feel her heart racing as she stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over her own feet. The woman’s sharp eyes assessed Esther before finallyspeaking.
“What did you say?” she demanded, her tone icy and cautionary.
“He’s going to kill me,” Esther burst out, tears streaming down her face. “Whit’s in danger. We need your help.”
The woman’s expression softened slightly as she lowered her weapon. “Slow down, child,” she said. “Who’s after you?”
“Brodie Richards and his gang,” Esther gasped, her entire body trembling with fear. “They’ve got Whit, and they’re going to kill him. He told me if I was in danger, I needed to come here.”
The woman peered past Esther, scanning the area for any signs of danger before spying the horse bolting toward them. “I don’t want trouble at my doorstep,” she warned, a hint of fear creeping into her voice. “I have my own children to protect.”
Esther fell onto her knees, desperate and pleading. Clutching at the woman’s skirt, she begged for mercy. “I’m begging you,” she choked out through sobs, “please help me.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she raised her rifle once more, aiming it at the field. “Get inside and close the door,” the woman ordered.
There was no time to stand as Esther crawled on all fours around the woman and toward the door. Before she could enter, the door shut in her face, and she could hear something being dragged in front of it.
She turned around and pressed her back against the door. A hysterical laugh burst forth from her lips as she thought of the utter absurdity of this petite woman being able to protect her from Brodie’s men.
Big Joe rode his horse up to the front of the house and pulled it to a stop. Esther cringed and curled herself up in a ball, pretending he wouldn’t see her behind the woman’sskirts. Despite his size, Big Joe dismounted from his horse with surprising agility after the lengthy ride. He drew his gun from its holster, recognition flashing in his eyes when he saw the woman standing at the edge of the porch.
“Evangeline? What in tarnation…” Big Joe began, but the woman cut him off with a sharp crack of gunfire. The shot rang out, deafening in the small space, and the man crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
Esther stared at the scene before her, heart pounding so loudly in her ears she could scarcely hear her own thoughts. It was too much. The violence, the fear, the desperate race to the farmhouse. Everything from the past few days cumulated in this moment. Her vision swam, and then the world went black as she crumpled to the porch, mercifully unconscious.
Chapter Ten
A cold splash of water struck Esther’s face, jolting her back to consciousness. She sputtered and blinked, disoriented, as droplets trickled down her cheeks. The woman towered over her, an icy glare in her eyes.
“Rise and shine,” she said sharply. “We’ve a mess which needs tending to.”
Esther’s tear-stained face was cold and sticky against her hand, the rough, wooden planks of the porch pressed into her back. As she struggled to sit up, the stench of death invaded her nostrils, and she saw Big Joe sprawled out on the ground in front of her, flies already circling his lifeless body.
Her heart raced as she scrambled to her feet, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she looked at the woman whostood a few yards away, staring blankly across the fields.
The woman wore her dark brown hair, reminiscent of chestnuts, tied back in a simple braid. Her weathered face told of a hard life, one filled with sorrow and struggle. Though she couldn’t have been many years over thirty, the lines on her forehead and around her eyes made her appear older. Her piercing green eyes, which likely once held a vibrant light, now seemed dull and weary. She had high cheekbones and a slender frame, evidence she was probably quite beautiful in her youth before life had hardened her. She wore a faded calico dress, practical and well worn, and scuffed leather boots.
Esther sensed she was a woman who did what needed to be done, no matter the cost. There was a hardness to her, but also a deep well of compassion beneath the surface. This woman had seen and endured much in her years on earth.
“Is there someone else coming?” Esther asked, trying to make sense of the situation.
