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The Trapper
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The Trapper
Barbara Goss
Copyright: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All scripture is quoted from the King James Version of the Holy Bible.
This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this book is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage system without express written permission from the author.
Copyright © 2018 Barbara Goss
All Rights Reserved
Kindle Edition
Cover Design by Samantha Fury
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
THE END
Chapter One
Joanna Rodgers pressed her valise tightly to her chest as she gazed out the window of the train at the scenery, wondering if this had been the best idea she’d ever had, or the worst.
At age eighteen, the orphanage where she’d been reared had discharged her. They'd even found her a job as a cleaner at the Fairmount Hotel in Pittsburgh. After a year, she'd become bored and yearned for adventure. While cleaning one day, she found a newspaper in one of the rooms and sat down to read it. The ads inside first shocked her and then held her curiosity. Men in Kansas, Nebraska, Colorado, and Wyoming were advertising for brides.
As she read a few of the ads, one of them sparked her interest in particular:
Young, ambitious man looking for a family-oriented wife who can keep house, cook, and help run a large ranch in Kansas. She should be between twenty and thirty, slim, and with a pleasant personality.
She was nineteen at the time, but she knew that by the time several letters had been exchanged, she’d be twenty. She ripped the ad from the paper and slipped it into her pocket.
And now, here she was, on her way to Kansas.
The train stopped. Passengers disembarked and new ones boarded. She wondered where each person might be going.
One new passenger, an elderly woman, sat down beside her. The feather in the woman’s hat kept tickling Joanna’s face. When the woman realized it, she apologized.
“Oh, dear. Why didn’t you tell me?” She shifted the hat so the feather sat on the opposite side of her head. “Where you headed, honey?”
“Hays, Kansas.”
“Never been there. I’m going all the way to Colorado to visit my daughter and her family.” The woman hesitated, then asked, “Are you going to visit family in Hays?”
“No, I’m meeting my betrothed.” Joanna didn’t care to tell her the whole story for some people looked down on mail order brides.
“How romantic. I wish you a lifetime of happiness.” The woman continued chattering all the way to Hays. Joanna didn’t mind for it kept her from having to talk.
When the porter announced, “Hays!” she gathered her valise and gloves.
“It’s been nice chatting with you.”
The woman stood so Joanna could get to the aisle while the train came to a halt. “Good luck with your marriage.”
Joanna stepped from the train and scanned the depot's platform. There were quite a few people milling about. Finally, a man stepped forward. Joanna felt a chill go through her body, and she forced herself to not react to it. The man was handsome, but much older than he’d stated, and he was dressed like a farmer, not at all like a ranch owner. He approached, and she smelled whiskey and cigar smoke.
“Joanna?”
She nodded.
“Bradley McKenna, at your service.” He tipped his wide-brimmed hat and took the valise from her. “My buggy’s right over there.”
As they walked to the buggy, Joanna’s mind raced for an excuse to get herself out of the mess she’d gotten herself into. He was fine-looking, but the smell of whiskey scared her. She’d never been around anyone who'd drank whiskey before. She knew the smell for she’d often helped in the kitchen, washing whiskey glasses at the hotel. Sometimes, guests left liquor glasses in their rooms, and she had to carry them down to the kitchen. Yes, she knew the smell. She’d often heard Jimmy, the bartender, tell stories about some of the drunken brawls that had occurred at the bar, too.
Joanna shivered.
“Are you cold?" Bradley asked. "I have a blanket in the back.”
“No,” she answered, “I’m fine.”
He helped her into the carriage, slid in beside her, and picked up the reins. “How do you want to do this—marry right now or spend a night at the hotel in separate rooms and marry in the morning?”
Joanna felt saved. She couldn’t answer fast enough. “Tomorrow! Yes, that would be best. I really need to freshen up and change into something more appropriate. And I’m exhausted.”
“Tomorrow it is,” Bradley said.
Her intended stopped the buggy in front of The Horseshoe Hotel. He ordered two rooms and handed her the key to her room.
“I do think we should spend a bit of time together this evening to get better acquainted. I’ll come to your room after you’ve settled in and we’ll talk. We’ll leave the door to the room open—for propriety, of course.”
Joanna couldn’t argue with that. “Just give me time to wash up and change clothes. “
“Sure,” he said as they climbed the stairs to the second floor. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes. We can sit and chat and then we’ll have dinner at the café across the street.”
Joanna unlocked her room, nodded to Bradley, and closed the door. She leaned against the it breathing a sigh of relief. She only had a few hours to find an excuse.
She opened her valise, took out a clean dress, and washed in the basin in the room. The water was cold, but it made her feel somewhat cleaner. She would have loved a hot bath, though.
When she was done, she dried herself hurriedly, dressed, and paced the room, trying to think of how she might get out of the marriage.
In his letters, he’d said he was twenty-eight—he had to be at least forty, given the crow’s feet near his eyes and his graying hair. Bradley hadn’t lied about his looks—he was handsome, although in his letters he’d called himself passably good-looking. She wondered if he really had a big cattle ranch. She’d expected to have been met by a dignified young man in a suit and string tie. What successful cattle rancher wouldn’t dress up to meet his new bride?
Joanna combed her auburn hair, twisted it into a bun, and secured it with pins. She sat down on the only chair in the room and waited for Bradley.
She heard a knock on the door within minutes and opened it to her intended.
“You look great!” he said. His words sounded a bit slurred, and the smell of whiskey was stronger than before. Had he been so nervous he’d needed a few drinks to calm himself or did he have a serious drinking problem?
Bradley came into the room, stumbled over the throw rug by the bed, and landed on the quilt. “Whoa! Who put that rug there?” He sat down on the bed and smiled widely at her.
Joanna opened the door a bit wider. She sat on the chair and faced him, knowing she had to be honest with the man.
“Bradley, I smell whiskey
on your breath—have you been drinking?”
He laughed and held up his thumb and index finger. “Just a little.”
“I’m sorry, Bradley, but I must call the wedding off. I cannot marry someone who drinks, especially to excess. The Bible says—”
“The Bible? Shay, you aren’t one of those fanatics, are you?”
“Yes, I guess I am. You aren’t as young as you said you were, and you drink whiskey. You never mentioned your vice or your advanced age in the letters, so that makes our agreement null and void.”
“What?” He stood, his amused expression having vanished. “I paid over two hunwed dollars to bring you here, and you want to null and void our agweement?”
“Our agreement, yes.”
He walked closer to her and grabbed her shoulders. “It ain’t gonna work that way, mish.”
“Take your hands off me!” His breath nearly knocked her over. He squeezed her shoulders so hard she gave out a little scream.
“Stop it!”
“You will marry me tomorrow,” he said, swaying, “or I’ll take out my due tonight.” He pointed to the bed. “Got it?”
Joanna felt numb but her brain whirled, looking for an answer. “Are you in the habit of drinking or is this just because you’re nervous about the marriage?”
“Just nerves. I never drink…much.” He swayed and caught himself on the bedpost.
“I’ll marry you tomorrow, as planned, but I’m going to skip the dinner as I have a headache and couldn’t eat a thing.” She watched him carefully as she spoke, hoping he was drunk enough to believe her. “Why don’t you go to your room, sleep off the whiskey, and meet me here for breakfast?”
Bradley released her shoulders. “Zounds like a good plan.” He stumbled to the door. “I promise: no drinking tomorrow. I want to be able to remember our wedding night.” His words were still slurred, and he waved his arms as he spoke.
“Good night, then, Bradley.” She closed the door and locked it before falling on her knees and praying for help, strength, and wisdom.
She wasn’t going to marry Bradley McKenna. The only way out was to escape from the hotel.
Joanna checked her reticule. She thought she might have enough money to get to the next town at least. She’d wait until she thought he was asleep, since he was in the room right next door. Joanna packed her things silently, put on her cape, and waited. After about thirty minutes she unlocked the door and crept down the stairs, her valise clutched tightly in her hand.
She went out onto the wooden walkway and froze when she saw two men fighting in the street. Several drunk men were singing outside the saloon next door. She had to get somewhere safe, but where?
At the sound of gunfire, she slipped the hood of her black cape over her head and dodged behind the buildings before running as fast as she could into the wilderness, wondering at the direction of the depot.
Chapter Two
Without realizing it, Joanna found herself stumbling through a forest. She felt safer in one respect: no one could see her. On the other hand, forests were scary places even in daylight. There she was, traipsing around in the thick woods in the dark. She slowed her pace for a while, dodging branches and holes in the forest floor. When she heard a sloshing sound, she headed toward what she knew must be water. Just then, something grabbed her foot so hard she screamed. The pain was excruciating. She fell to the ground, near some gurgling water and moaned in pain.
Joanna thought she’d been bitten by something, but when she felt her foot, she felt metal.
A trap!
She’d stepped into a trap.
Joanna felt warm liquid, and she knew her foot was bleeding. There was nothing she could do but grit her teeth, try to make a pillow from the dead leaves and pine needles, and wait until morning when she could see well enough to set herself free.
Her foot throbbed in pain. She rolled over to dunk the foot—trap and all—into the water beside her and inadvertently kicked her valise and reticule into the what she thought might be a brook or creek since she heard shallow water rushing over rocks.
After trying unsuccessfully to rescue either the valise or reticule, she gave up, laid back down, and sighed. She could do nothing in the dark. In the morning, she’d remove the trap and find her things. At least the cold water helped to numb her foot enough so that she was finally able to fall asleep.
The next thing Joanna knew early the next morning was feeling someone lift her foot from the water. Joanna opened her eyes to see a man bending over her foot. She was too numb with cold and exhaustion to be afraid, but she felt relieved that someone had found her. Strangely, she felt no fear.
She lay still, silently observing the man as he struggled to remove the trap. Finally, she heard it spring open and felt immediate relief of the painful pressure she’d endured.
Joanna sighed loudly, and the man cringed and threw the trap down the stream. Her eyes followed the trap until she heard the splash when it landed. Before she knew it, she was being picked up and gently carried through the forest.
At first, she thought about escaping this bear of a man, but how could she with the injured foot? She was, yet again, trapped. Joanna prayed she'd be safe with this man, though she felt less fear of him than she had of Bradley McKenna.
What had happened to her reticule and valise?
Joanna looked up at him as he carried her to see his forehead creased with anger and his lips pressed tightly together. He had a thick, dark brown beard covering his chin and a bushy mustache to match.
She shivered at his fierce look which caused him to look down at her. His eyes—they didn’t match the scowl on his face for they were filled with concern and were the color of the sky on a sunny day.
The man set her down on a log, removed his fur coat, put it around her shoulders, picked her up again, and continued to trudge through the woods. It seemed like they walked forever before they came to a horse tied to a tree. He sat her on the horse and pulled the horse along by the reins until they reached a cabin.
He tied the horse to a post at the rear of the cabin, picked her up, and carried her around to the front door. She felt him shift her to his other arm and realized he was opening a door. Joanna knew she was inside the cabin when she felt warmth.
The aroma of food made her stomach lurch. The heat felt welcoming, but she still didn’t know if she was safe. She should have been alarmed, but so far, the man had been nothing but gentle. For some reason, she sensed she was not in imminent danger from him.
He laid her gently on the bed, and she was enveloped by the soft mattress. Joanna gazed around the room. The rustic walls told her it was a log cabin. The man was standing by the fire, fiddling with a pot on the hearth. When he was done, he walked over, put his arm around her shoulders, pulled her to a sitting position, and held a cup to her mouth.
The cup was hot, so she backed away as best she could. The man then took the cup and blew on it softly as he looked at her with his cornflower eyes, and held it to her lips again.
Joanna tested it with a small sip—it was warm and tasted like chicken soup. She drank all of it; she'd forgotten when she’d eaten last.
The whole time she wondered why he didn’t speak. At last, she broke the silence and said, “Who are you, and where am I?”
The man turned, went back to the fire, and returned with a cup of soup for himself. He sat down on the wooden chair beside the bed. Once again, his eyes exuded warmth and caring which stilled her fear. His face no longer held a scowl, but he didn’t smile either.
He set his cup down, took a knife from his pocket, cut her stocking at the ankle, and removed the bloody part that had covered her foot. He walked to the hearth, threw the soiled stocking into the fire, and came back with a bowl of water. It felt warm as he washed her foot gently and wrapped it with a clean cloth.
“Why were you out in the woods?” His voice was soft and tender, unlike his frown and bearded face.
“I was running from town. I had to get away from
someone.”
He nodded. “Are you running from the law?”
“No!” she said quickly. “I was running from…well, it’s a long story, but the man meant to harm me, and I had no choice but to slip away at night before he…he ruined me.”
The man picked up his cup and drank. “My name’s Jared Steele, and as you probably realized, I’m a trapper and this is my home. We’re about three miles from Hays by the road. A bit less by the woods.”
“I feel sympathy for the animals—that trap was painful!”
Jared set the cup down on a small table. “I don’t trap just for the pelts. I use the animals for food. The Bible tells us God put the animals on earth for us to eat.”
“Yes, but not to torture!”
Jared bowed his head and rubbed his hands together. His hands looked rough and used to hard work. “Most of my traps kill the animal instantly. You just happened upon my bear trap.”
“B-bear? There are bears out there?” Joanna shivered.
Jared took a long sip from his cup and set it back down. “There’s been one hanging around lately, and he’s causing me problems. I don’t like using the painful kind of traps, but it’s the only type that will trap a bear.
“I’m sorry my trap hurt you, miss—”
“Joanna.”
“Joanna. I’m going to take you into town to see the doctor.”
“No! He might see me.”
Jared sighed. “I’ll bring Doc Simpson here, then. If you could manage to lock the door when I leave you’ll feel safer, though hardly anyone comes this way.”
He rose, put on the fur jacket he’d shared with her, and went out the door.
Joanna rose from the bed, hobbled over to the door, and bolted it. She got back into bed and wondered about her situation.
Jared seemed a pleasant man, even if his looks were daunting. He was tender and by offering to bring the doctor by, showed he had no intention of harming her. Joanna felt safe, even though her foot still throbbed in pain.
While Jared was gone, Joanna hobbled around the cabin. She could learn more about the man by his possessions. There was a desk in one corner, but there was nothing on it and the drawers were locked. He was probably a secretive man who didn’t trust people. There was a bookcase near the desk. The rows of books told her he was a reader. She glanced at the titles: Oliver Twist, Great Expectations, Northanger Abbey, A Tale of Two Cities, Moby Dick, and Frankenstein—that last one made her flinch. His library told her he was educated, and he enjoyed fiction. Most of the books were quite expensive, so he was a man of some means to have such a collection. The books were pristine-looking, without bent pages; he was a neat and orderly man. The Holy Bible, however, looked well-worn which told her he must be a man of God—no wonder he was compassionate. The orphanage where she’d grown up had been a Presbyterian-run home for abandoned, neglected, and orphaned children, so she was also a godly person.