From Mourning to Joy

of his victim fast for she was a small build and not strong after her recent sickness. When Sam’s name came up for discussion, Bernie had noticed the fear hiding behind her show of courage. Bernie wished he could wipe that fright away forever, if she’d just let down her guard and give him a chance.
The trail opened onto a wider path and he noticed a bird pecking away at a piece of bread. Janelle’s bread. Could she be leaving him a trail? With no chance of taking a wrong turn he quickened his pace. Soon he came to a fork and pulled on Blaze’s reins and slipped to the ground in one motion. Lead rope in hand, he started down one path and lost the prints. He backtracked and moved down the other side and within the first couple feet he saw a torn piece of clothing hanging loosely in a tree. He grabbed it off and thought it resembled the pattern of Janelle’s work coat. The woman was brilliant. He glanced at the ground ahead and in one of the imprints in the ground he noticed the bread. He almost chuckled aloud.
“I got this, Janelle. Hang on, honey, I’m on the way,” he whispered into the quiet forest.
Bernie slid his foot into the stirrup then flung his leg over the saddle, urging Blaze to ride forward. Every time a split in the trail happened along, he found a clue, either bread or torn material, to keep him advancing in the right direction. This was the easiest tracking he’d ever done. Sam Spalding better watch his step with Janelle Rimes. Even without her rifle, she was a force to be reckoned with.

Chapter 11
“That should hold ‘til I get back,” Sam said with a final grunt. Just dragging supplies and tying Janelle to a chair wore the scoundrel out. His foul whiskey breath nauseated her and she turned her face away. “Now don’t go doing that. I’m trying to be nice, don’t want to spoil that purty face. Plumb forgot about eating and I’m near starved.”
“How can I cook anything tied to this chair?”
“This is yer wedding feast. Wouldn’t dream of having you cook yer own supper. This once I’ll feed you then you can take over for the rest of my life.”
“In your dreams.” Janelle barely had the words out when she felt the back of his hand smack across her mouth.
“You hold your tongue woman, or I cut it out. Might be nicer having a wife that couldn’t talk – especially if she’s as sassy as you.”
Janelle stifled a retort. She liked her tongue just the way it was and arguing would only bring on his fury. She’d felt his wrath once at the cabin a couple months after Jacob’s passing. When Sam Spalding did not get his way, heaven help anyone that crossed his path. It had worsened over time for now she sensed his temper about to explode.
Sam took her silence as a victory and headed for the door. “I was thinking rabbit. Should be an easy kill. I’ll be back in no time.” He bundled into his coat and boots and reached for the rifle, with a sideways snicker for her, “Bet you miss your gun, huh?” He slammed the door shut behind him and she was alone.
Janelle squeezed shut the flow of tears from the corner of her eyes. She’d not let him win. He had to sleep sometime and she’d find his gun. Killing Sam Spalding might prove necessary if she were to live a peaceful future in Belle.
Glancing around she took note of the room for the first time since she arrived. The potbelly stove pumped out the heat but most of it flew through the cracks in the dilapidated building. The one and only room where she sat contained all the characteristics of a camp cabin where men hung out between jobs or as they passed by. Nothing that screamed welcome to Sam’s kidnapped bride. Two sets of bunks covered the one wall and on the other side, three shelves containing a few dishes and pots. Knives from bored men had etched letters and drawings into the wooden table and five chairs that appeared on their last legs were stuck in the middle of the space.
That’s where she was: Stuck in the middle of a huge mess. Two doors in the front and back were her only escape. They’d tied the horses to the hitching post outside and for lack of a better idea, Janelle stood and inched her way awkwardly toward that door. The fool hadn’t secured her feet, only her hands. At the door she turned and her fingers sought the latch. She grunted from her efforts. This wouldn’t work. Even if she did manage to get outside, she couldn’t ride a horse with a chair strapped to her back. Backing up against a wall she gritted her teeth and slammed the chair against the wall, over and over. When the splinters ripped into her flesh, she couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.
In the middle of her pity party, she heard a noise. Was he back already?
She collapsed to her knees and closed her eyes knowing the worst beating was moments away. She felt the rush of the wind but refused to look. When a hand touched her, she screamed and her eyes bolted open.
“Janelle, it’s me, Bernie.” He scooped her arm through his and picked her off the floor. Their eyes met briefly and she witnessed concern deeper than she’d ever seen etched into his face. “Where’s Sam?”
“Gone hunting for the bridal supper.”
“I heard a shot a while back but didn’t investigate. I wanted to find you first,” Bernie said. “Has he laid a hand on you?”
“None, besides my face to shut me up.”
“Faces will heal but to rape