Bounty Beyond Reason: Brides of Blessings, #7

By Kari Trumbo

For the last four years, she's wanted to watch him hang.

Hannah Gale has to avenge her husband's death and the loss of her future and watching Emitt Hayes swing will do just that. When she's able to catch him, she can bring him back and claim the bounty, redeeming some of the wealth Emitt stole.

Emitt stole a horse to redeem a debt.

It started a landslide of events that changed many lives, and a has eaten at him ever since. He's taken on the name Cort Nelson to hide. When his past catches up with him, Hannah is more fire than he's expecting. His quiet, hidden life will never be the same.

A hidden danger appears that could cost them both their lives, can Cort admit to what he's done and be the man Hannah needs and can Hannah release her grudge to grab hold of a future worth having?

Get this sweet, romantic, redemptive story of second chance love by bestselling author, Kari Trumbo

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kari Trumbo
• Release date: Mar 9, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201733087

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Blessings, California

June 1853

Hannah sited stared down the barrel of her Sharp's carbine right to the center of Emitt's chest, but doubt hit her to the center of hers. The brand-new long rifle still felt awkward in her hands, but it shot better at a longer range than her pocket derringer. Even in the dark, and with the surrounding trees, he was easy to spot. Dirty scoundrel.

He'd stolen a horse from her father, then run off like the coward he was instead of facing trial. Because of him, her husband was dead. Because of him, her father lost his prized stud horse. Because of him, she'd slept on the cold hard ground for four years straight. Her hatred of that man had kept her alive and going. But not much longer. If she could only pull the trigger to make the gambling miners around him scatter. But what if she actually hit him?

Sweat ran into her eyes and she dropped her bead, lowering the barrel and wiping away the sting with the back of her arm. Father wanted him brought back alive, so he could watch Emitt swing, but it would be so much easier to bring back a body than a man who’d fight back. Especially a body as big as his. She shuddered and hesitated to correct her aim for a moment. The heavy rifle weighed down her arms and she struggled to center on the tent pole beside him again. At barely five feet tall, the gun was almost as long as she was.

Trees dotted the terrain all around her, hiding her in the dark. Bats screeched overhead, and the tang of juniper filled the summer air. She couldn’t hold her target, no matter how hard she focused. She wasn’t a killer…at least she couldn’t do it by her own hand. He’d still be dead once she got him back to Kentucky.

Her focus moved down the barrel, from the sites to Emitt himself. If she could force herself to just pull the trigger, she could hurry home. Finally. Her finger quivered over the trigger guard, but she couldn't quite make herself slip her finger inside.

She'd been in this situation at least three times in the past few days and each time he'd moved before she could gather the gumption to take the shot that would start a cascade. The shot would create chaos, giving her the chance to capture him. Today, he was still, pensive, and if she could only concentrate…

Cort! The man she'd known as Emitt Hayes turned and her aim wavered. Cort? A tall, lean, well-dressed man came just outside the tent and fixed Emitt with a huge smile.

You're needed in the tent. I don't want to leave Lenora alone for too long. She tends to get ideas about how to improve the livery if I leave her to herself. Her last suggestion was to paint the inside white to make it brighter for the horses.

Emitt snorted. I can think of a pile of reasons why white is a bad idea for the inside of a livery. Both men laughed as the well-dressed one ambled down the hill. Emitt didn't move from his spot, searching the trees. Could he feel her presence?

So, Emitt was now Cort and he ran the livery in town. The very idea that the man who'd stolen her father's prized stallion would now make his living on horses burned like acid in her chest. Her finger flexed over the trigger guard once again. He would pay. For all of it.

Hannah closed her eyes and strained to get her emotions in check. If she couldn’t shoot the gun, she’d need to do as her father said, which meant luring him to her and then overpowering him. It all seemed so unlikely. She ducked behind a tree and silently made her way back to her small tent, hidden outside the range of the mine security officers that roamed the perimeter of Blessings. The only way would be to put herself in the belly of the beast, the gambling tent where he spent most of his time in the evening.

Trixie nickered softly as Hannah approached on booted feet. She'd had to keep the horse caked with mud so, even if she were found, no one would realize just what a prize she was. Trixie was the last horse they owned of Homer's line. Homer, her father's prized racehorse and stud, had brought in thousands of dollars for her father. Until Emitt had stolen him one night. Their stud farm had steadily fallen apart after that. Her father—and by way of inheritance, she—had lost everything.

Hannah rubbed Trixie's neck. I'm sorry for leaving you in such a state, she whispered. I can't have some low-life walking off with you, too. I'll get your sire back and then we can take him and that thief home where we belong. That will make Father happy and then I can rebuild my life.

Trixie's ears swung around and she raised her head high. Someone was nearby. Hannah stood completely still and prayed that Trixie didn't make any noise. If Hannah tried to make her be silent by covering her muzzle, it would only cause the headstrong horse to do the opposite. She searched the trees around the small clearing but saw nothing. Her heart throbbed wildly. If she were caught for trespassing now, all would be lost.

There was no more time to waste. Despite the holes in her plan, it had to work. She'd stick her courage and bluff her way into that gambling tent tonight. When Emitt left the tent, she'd follow him and somehow take him into custody. Once he was in hand, she'd force him to tell her where Homer was, because in all her scouting of the little town, she hadn't found him. She'd made it this far, Father would take her failure as a personal insult if he knew she'd come this close and not done what was necessary to reclaim what was theirs.

Inside her small tent, Hannah ripped off a hunk of jerky and took a bite. She couldn't afford the luxury of a fire, or she’d risk detection. The jerky was tough and she took a big swig of water to prevent her jaw from locking up as she chewed. She scratched at the irritating hem down the inside knee of her trousers so she wouldn't have to think about how horrible the jerky tasted. Even after two years, she'd yet to get used to wearing trousers, and she would never eat dried meat again after she returned to Kentucky.

She was so close to the end of her journey, she could taste it. Soon, she could warm herself by a fire, eat food that wasn't aged, and sleep in her own bed. The best part, she would be able to toss her trousers onto the burn heap and never look at them again. How she missed the softness of her skirts.

She had avoided Emitt’s gambling tent until now, because, while her stays hid most of her curves when cinched tighter on top than on the bottom, she couldn't make herself sound like a man. She'd tried. There was also the issue of drinking. In order to keep her mind sharp, she couldn't partake, but she also didn't know if avoiding drink would make her stick out. But now those were risks she had to take. Time was of the essence.

Hannah slunk from her humble camp back to her tree, this time with only her derringer in hand. Her arms were too tired for the big rifle. She eyed the glowing tent from a distance. Some miners had told her early on that only men were allowed inside. If she acted well enough, they'd never know there was a woman within their midst, as she knew more than any woman should about cards. Emitt waited, nervous, with his brow furrowed, like he could sense her there. She watched for him to turn from her so she could approach undetected. No need announcing the way back to her camp.

Emitt stood outside the tent, holding the flap as a few men ducked in. They looked rough and dirty. Probably miners. Blessings was a mining town. Yet, Emitt wasn't a miner. That had fascinated her. Why would a gambler avoid the mines when he could make a lot more money digging in the dirt for gold? She knew him well after following him for so long, knew everything she needed to know about him. Emitt had had a wife back when Hannah’s husband had been chasing him. When Freedman, Hannah’s husband, had drowned she'd taken up the chase. By the time she'd traced Emitt’s trail to Boston, his wife had disappeared.

The shock of being within sight of Emitt still hadn't worn off. Every muscle in her body twitched to awareness. She whispered, Lord, let me take him alive and let it be a balm to my poor father's weary soul to watch him swing.

Emitt glanced up and their eyes met over the expanse. She held her breath. Emitt squinted at her in the dark.

Hey, friend. He gave her a strange appraising look. Did he suspect she wasn’t what she seemed? Did you come in with the cart today? Come to play a hand or two?

His voice was low, throaty. Real. She'd made him into a monster for so long. He couldn't weasel his way into her mind as a living, breathing man. Then bringing him in to face death might be hard. But he'd done the crime. Wasn't that exactly what he deserved?

She nodded to avoid speaking. No sense in raising an alarm yet. She tried to mimic the swaggering walk of so many men she'd seen. He followed her with his intense stare and she realized he wasn't wearing his hat as he usually would. His hair was long, falling down around his shoulders in warm brown waves that caught the slight glow from inside the tent. She stopped in front of him and waited for him to move over so she could enter. She was a full head shorter than him and his towering presence was enough to make her quake. He crossed his arms and his hazel eyes bore into hers.

You can't be much more than a fresh-faced boy. Have you even used a razor yet? His warm hand gripped her chin and tilted her face up, setting her insides to quaking. He squinted at her as he turned her face from side to side.

Her heart beat fit to burst from her stays. N-no, sir, she whispered. Hoping he wouldn't question her voice if he thought her so young. She reminded herself that she looked little different from him in her brown cotton trousers, faded linen shirt, and farmers hat, disguising her waist-length brown hair all wrapped and pinned underneath.

Emitt dropped his hand and his lip curled in disgust as he stepped aside. Guess this is a good a place as any for a boy to learn. The slight disappointment in his voice didn't escape her. What could he mean by that? Was he ashamed of the establishment he'd built? She'd spoken briefly to a few miners earlier in the week while they'd been eating lunch. She'd learned all about the town, Mr. Winslet, Pete Jones, and the other colorful people of Blessings. Finally, they'd told her about the livery owner, Cort. Though she hadn't realized then that Cort Nelson was the infamous Emitt Hayes.

The gambling tent looked to be about the size of those sold for a small fortune in larger cities all over California. They could seat about ten comfortably around two small tables. A few stray chairs sat around the perimeter for those waiting their turn at the tables and men drank whatever they'd brought with them as they laughed and bantered. Hannah sat in one lone chair as far away from the others as possible.

The tent flap swung open sending the smell of the burning lamps and smoke at her. Emitt ducked inside, catching her eye immediately. The golden glow of the kerosene lamp warmed his face and the air in her chest thickened to the consistency of molasses. Why had he followed her? His shoulders were broad and strong. He'd been working since he'd left Kentucky. There were a few white strands running through his long hair and his eyes were hard, like he'd never smiled before in his life. He wouldn't be doing much of that once she took him in either.

His eyes locked onto hers for a moment and she was certain he knew.

No women allowed.

But she was dressed as a man. He wouldn't know. Couldn't know. Could he? She shoved up from the chair, drawing the attention of all the men in the room. Everyone went silent as they folded their hands down to prevent cheating. All eyes were on her. What could she say to make her escape and force Emitt into following her?

She quickly searched the room but didn't recognize anyone. None of the miners she'd spoken to were there that night. Only Emitt.

I… Words failed her. She dashed for the door and Emitt’s muscled arm reached out, stopping her as she plowed into it. Hot air rushed from her lungs and she fought for something to say, anything to make him let her go.

You all right, boy? His rough hands, huge around her small arms, held her in place. If she didn't think of something, he'd know her secret for sure.

I…gotta go outside. She tried to duck away from his hands, but he held her for a moment and his brow furrowed deeply.

Please, Lord. Don't let him discover me…

CHAPTER TWO

The child couldn't have been more than twelve for how small he was, and Cort had never seen a jaw quite so smooth, not even on a boy so young. It was like he'd never seen a day of sun or work in his life. The child's eyes glistened like he was going to cry, and he trembled. Trembled. What kind of man got so frightened over nothing?

Be on your way, boy. If you can't handle the goings on in here, best you stay near your mama's skirts for a while.

The boy's eyes flashed anger and, even more strange, hatred, before he yanked free of Cort's grasp.

I'll thank you to mind your own business, you old coot. The boy turned and dashed out of the tent.

All the men playing burst into laughter. Billy, one of the mine security officers, slapped him on the back. Guess that boy found his spunk. You gonna let him talk to you like that? You wouldn't let none of us.

Billy was right, of course. He wouldn't allow rude behavior in his tent. Where could the pup have run off to? He flipped the door flap open and left the tent to the gamblers for a while. Most of them were trustworthy anyway. He stilled and waited for the sound of rushing feet. The boy was too young and stupid to know how to get away undetected. He heard two snapping twigs to his left, toward the witch's tent. He made his way through the night with caution. Cort didn't know the witch, not many did. And the dark of night wasn't the time to make her acquaintance. He wasn't fearful of spirits, but he was just superstitious enough that he wasn't eager to meet her face to face. Ever.

He stopped and waited for the boy to make his next mistake when something hit him in the back of the head with a thump so loud he felt it hum through his nose.

I've got you now, you thieving…

He turned and swung his fist toward the sound of the voice. As he connected with the soft flesh of a face, he heard the blood-stopping sound of a woman's scream ring in his ears. He stopped dead and turned away from his attacker, searching the area. Someone else was in the forest, witnessing the scuffle.

The hammer of a gun cocked behind him and he pivoted back around to find the boy, his hat askew and long tendrils of hair slipping over his face, a dribble of blood under his nose. He had to shake the urge to stride up and brush the hair away. Was he going out of his mind?

"You're coming with me, Cort." The