Chapter Thirty-Five
The day had fully dawned, but the sun’s rays fought to break through the dense layer of clouds covering the sky. The morning was as dark as Hope’s mood, and a fine mist of chilled rain stung her face and cheeks as a cold she couldn’t shake soaked through to her bones.
Hope’s nose scrunched at the stench of Victor’s sweat. She felt stuck to him, forced to be close to a man who repulsed her. She’d been dragged and hurled around like a human shield, proving Victor didn’t care if she was dead or alive.
Hope hadn’t been able to see if Victor’s bullet had hit Jackson. Her last view had been of him falling to the ground. She sobbed at the memory, her tears blurring her vision. It couldn’t be true. Even if Jackson had been wounded, she didn’t believe it would stop him coming after her.
Unless he was dead.
The thought made her want to be sick. She leaned forward with barely enough strength to keep her upright. Victor yanked her backwards, his lips snarling something in her ear that she refused to listen to.
Then there’d been the explosion of gunfire and enraged bellows as Victor had galloped away. It had been horrifying to listen to, and Hope thought of Margaret, Clara, and Ethan’s parents in the thick of it all.
But there were many who could protect them, and she believed they would be successful.
Ethan, David, and even Old Simon were there to help.
Her heart skipped in her chest when she remembered seeing Daniel ride in, leading the group of men ready to fight against Victor.
Looking at him, she had felt more than pride.
She had felt that Daniel was finally acting like a man, a true and respectable one who no longer worked for just his own benefit.
Thinking of Jackson and Daniel’s courage gave her strength. She picked up her head and took stock of her surroundings. They were approaching the creek, which meant they were still on Jackson’s land. If she could delay Victor somehow, Jackson would have a better chance of finding her.
If he was alive.
Hope bit her lip, focusing on the pain it caused and refusing to allow the possibility of Jackson’s death to break her. Victor kicked at his horse’s flanks, and it galloped at full speed through the grass. If Victor didn’t slow down, he’d kill them all.
That’s when an idea occurred to Hope. She knew the land and she knew horses. Soon they would hit the wet, swampy patches, which must have been worsened by the wet morning. Victor would be forced to slow down.
As predicted, soon muddy patches of thick grass appeared ahead, and Victor pulled hard on the reins to avoid them, cussing loudly in her ear. His horse faltered slightly, and that’s when Hope slumped forward, as if unconscious.
Victor slammed one of his hands against her chest, shoving her back against him so she wouldn’t fall, and that’s when she leaned against his arm with all her weight, making a grab for the reins in his hand.
“No!” Victor roared as Hope yanked the reins hard to the left, driving the horse to the ground.
She relaxed, tucking her elbows in as momentum carried them through the air. She’d never been thrown at such a speed before, but she knew how to land in a way that wouldn’t break every bone in her body, or so she hoped.
The horse lost its balance and crashed onto its side with a furious whinny, the weight of its body enough to crush them to death.
Hope had been riding side-saddle, so her legs were free, but Victor was tangled in the stirrups.
He hollered in pain as his horse came down on him, and they rolled together, while Hope was thrown clear.
She tumbled through the grass, the coarse blades whipping at her face while sticks and thorns cut her skin.
When she finally came to a stop, black spots appeared in her vision and she groaned in pain.
Every inch of her felt bruised and broken, but she could still wiggle her fingers and toes. She took that as a good sign.
Hope felt a shudder of guilt for hoping the fall had killed Victor.
She carefully raised her head, inspecting the area for any sign of him.
She could hear him growling and grunting a distance away, and suddenly his beautiful black horse clambered to its feet and shook itself with a disgruntled snort.
It limped for a few steps before walking normally.
Hope let out a breath of relief, happy that the stallion hadn’t been hurt too badly by her actions.
To her horror, Victor stood up next. His nose was bloodied, and his tangled brown hair clung to the sweat on his face. He clutched his hip, wincing with pain.
“Hope!” he yelled at the empty space around him. “I’ll kill you for that!”
Hope crouched low to the ground, but she could hear by the swish of the grass that Victor was stalking her way, limping and groaning as he went. Hope gauged the distance between herself and Victor, then made a rash decision. She kept her mind fixed on Jackson as she steeled her nerves.
He’s alive. He’ll come for you. Just stay alive!
Hope pushed herself up, ignoring the agonizing pangs in her legs and ribs as she made a desperate sprint towards Victor’s horse.
Victor spotted her and changed direction, taking long strides through the grass to try cut her off, but he moved slower than she did.
Hope scrambled up the side of Victor’s horse, her nightdress limiting her movement.
She pulled the hem of her gown up and kicked off the ground again, determined to get a leg over the top of the stallion’s back.
Every second she delayed, Victor gave Jackson another second to reach her.
She was halfway up when she felt Victor’s fingers grip a handful of her hair and drag her down painfully.
She clawed at the air as she fell, the impact of the ground knocking the wind out of her.
Victor glared down at her, the ugliness of everything he was inside clearly visible in the twist of his mouth and the hatred in his eyes.
“How dare you?” Victor spat at her, lashing out a boot at her ribs.
Hope groaned in pain and tried to crawl away.
“You’re nothing,” Victor continued, the heel of his boot finding her spine. “A mail-order bride from nowhere. Why choose him? Why does everyone choose him?”
“Because he’s a good man!” Hope shouted, hoping Jackson would hear her. “He gets more love from me in a minute than you’ll have from anyone in your whole lifetime!”
This only angered Victor more, and he aimed another kick her way.
Hope shouted at the ground in rage, shutting his painful kicks out of her mind.
If she could just stay alive for a few more minutes, she’d see Jackson again.
She’d see the light dance in his green eyes, and the strength of his jaw shadowed by his beard.
She’d feel his strong arms hold her, and hear the warmth in his laugh again.
They’d ride together through these very prairies free and easy, whereas Victor would face the fate he deserved.
Their future was worth fighting for. Hope stopped crawling, feeling something cold beneath her hand. Her fingers curled around the barrel of Victor’s revolver. She endured another kick from Victor before rolling onto her back and pointing the gun up at him.
“Get away from me!” she screamed at him, waving the gun at him.
She had no idea how to work it, but his surprise gave her the time she needed to get back on her feet and put an end to the brutal kicks.
“As if you could even fire that,” Victor taunted, stepping closer with a smirk.
Was the fear she felt that obvious? She quietly chided Jackson in her mind for not teaching her to shoot, because then she’d have the power to end Victor once and for all right here. Yet the thought of that also terrified her.
Hope teared up, hating what Victor had turned her into.
She shook her head slightly and aimed the barrel of the gun towards the ground at his feet and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened.
She assumed she’d done something wrong and was going to throw it away from them, when Victor took advantage of her vulnerability and grabbed at her, tearing the gun from her hands.
Hope backed away as he turned the gun around, the barrel once again pointed at her.
She saw Victor attempt to pull the trigger, and she closed her eyes for what now felt inevitable. But nothing happened.
Mud must’ve jammed the weapon when Victor had dropped it! Hope turned her back on him and ran as fast as her bruised body could carry her. Fear wasn’t what pushed her on, but rather the desire to live.
She heard the thunder of horses and imagined that Victor was taking his chance to flee, but then a flash bolted past her. Horse? Hope turned around to see if it was Jackson who’d ridden past, and instead saw Victor running towards her with his gun.
A crack of gunfire ripped through the quiet of the prairie, and Hope gasped as the air was knocked out of her as she was thrown to the ground. She rolled over, trying to get away from the body on top of her, only to see Daniel writhing in pain as he clutched his shoulder.
“Daniel!” she shrieked, seeing blood on her nightdress and feeling a new wave of panic tear through her. “No, no! Please, no!”
She pulled herself out from under him and carefully rolled him over.
Blood soaked through his shirt on his right shoulder, and he groaned in pain.
She tore his shirt to inspect the wound and breathed easier when it didn’t seem too deep, the bullet seemingly having grazed him rather than pierced him.
“Hope!” Daniel breathed, squinting at her. “You’re alive…” He trailed off, losing consciousness.
Hope cradled Daniel’s head in her lap, stroking his hair as she tried to ease his pain. She tore strips of cloth from her nightdress and pressed it to the wound to stop the bleeding, all while looking around for Jackson. Hope saw him reach Victor, his rifle pointed steadily at the man.
“It’s over, Victor!” Jackson shouted.