The Bounty

By Rich Cole

Lena Olson only wanted something more out of life than to be a farmer's wife toiling away on a tiny scrap of land. When that opportunity finally comes, her dream quickly turns into a nightmare she can't wake up from.
When Lena and her husband Frank find a man bleeding to death outside their ranch, they are surprised to see he is carrying a bag stuffed with money. The dying man is a bank robber on the run. Lena wants to keep the money to improve her lot in life, but she's not the only one after it. The gang of bank robbers are eager to win their loot back, and they won't leave until it is back in their hands.
Lena goes on the run to escape the gang, but they are hot on her tail at every turn.
Can Lena ever escape her pursuers and find the freedom she so badly craves?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Seagull Editions
• Release date: May 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223366430

Book preview

Chapter One

Missouri, 1886

There ‘aint much flavour in this, Frank Olson said as he grimaced at his wife’s stew.

’Aint not salt left to flavour it, his wife Lena replied, gulping down her own stew so she wouldn’t have to taste how bland it was. And nothing left to buy more.

You know who’s fault that is, don’t you?

Yes, I know, Lena said, bitterness on her tongue.

It’s all those cowards packing up and moving to the city. To Chicago or New York. They don’t think about how there’s nothing left for the rest of us. The ones actually growing all their crops and raising their cattle so they can eat. I thought things were supposed to be better after the war, but they’ve only gotten worse and worse.

It sure has, Lena said quietly as she took the dishes, including the leftovers her husband had refused to eat, and carried them to the sink.

She couldn’t say it out loud or she’d risk a beating, but she knew exactly why they were so poor and eating bland stew made from wilted vegetables for every meal. It wasn’t the war or the drought a few years ago. It was all because of Frank. He knew that they could find a better life in one of those big cities, but he refused to leave and find one only out of his own pride. Even though their farm barely turned up enough to feed themselves, yet alone have enough to sell. Even though their little town in Missouri was far away from everything. But he still insisted on keeping his own wife all the way out here, living like this. He acted as if the land were cursed, but he was the one who had cursed them.

And Lena couldn’t even say anything about it. Wives weren’t supposed to. They were supposed to go along with whatever their husbands wanted, no matter how badly it affected them.

I’m going to feed the pigs, she said, carrying her husband’s leftovers out the back door and towards the pig pen.

They couldn’t afford to waste anything, even a drop of food. But if her husband refused to eat, it could at least go to the pigs. Autumn was coming on fast this year and it seemed like they would need the pigs to be particularly fat if they were going to make it through the winter. She scraped it into the trough and watched as the pigs gobbled it up greedily. At least they could appreciate her cooking, salt or no salt. She couldn’t even compare her husband to a pig if they were going to be more polite than him.

She sighed as she made her way around the perimeter of their property, checking the gates were all secured before the sun set. It had been twenty years since the Civil War ended, and almost as long since she and Frank had married. They hadn’t been blessed with children for whatever reason, but Lena was almost glad of that now. It was enough of a struggle to feed the two of them without bringing in any more mouths to feed. She didn’t know how the rest of the families in town did it. Some of those women had over a dozen children. She shuddered at the thought. How were they going to make it through this winter? They didn’t even have the option of going to the city, as those tiny city apartments couldn’t fit so many people.

She almost missed the war years. At least she had still been with her family then, back in Idaho. She hadn’t even realised at the time how good those years were to her. She would give anything to go back to them, but her family was all the way in Idaho, and she was stuck out here. They wouldn’t accept her back after what she’d said all those years ago. But her prospects here weren’t a lot better. Maybe it did serve her right for hoping for more than she could have.

A flash of movement caught her eye in the forest surrounding the farm. She looked over, squinting in the twilight, but didn’t see anything. It was probably just a leaf blowing in the breeze, or a rabbit rooting around. The eye did play tricks on the mind in this light.

A groan sounded from the forest.

Lena looked up again. She hadn’t been wrong about that. She had definitely heard it. In the twenty years she’d spent out here, she knew all the sounds of the woodland critters. That had definitely not come from an animal. That had been human.

Tentatively, she stepped forward beyond the fence. It was a danger to step beyond that boundary, especially since she didn’t know yet what lay beyond it. But she couldn’t exactly ignore it, either.

Someone there? she called out.

She was answered by another groan, louder this time and clearly in pain. She took a few more steps and gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. Leaning against a tree was a man, his face worn and grizzled. He was clutching his side and looking closer, Lena saw blood on his hand. It was leaking out of him and staining the ground. He had been shot.

Frank! she called, running back to the house as fast as she could in her long skirt. Frank, get out here!

What is it? Frank asked as he stepped outside the house, seeming more annoyed at being disturbed than troubled that his wife was clearly distressed.

There’s a man just outside the fence. I think he’s been shot.

By who? Frank asked, suddenly alert and scanning the landscape.

Does it matter? If we don’t do something quick, he’ll bleed out and die. Do you want a corpse on our hands?

Her husband finally saw sense and followed her to the tree line where she’d found the man. He was still there, slumped over now, curled around something.

Shit, that is bad, Frank said when he took the man in. He knew he shouldn’t swear in front of his wife, but she understood his reaction. Sir, you ok? Who shot you?

The injured man opened his mouth to speak, but only blood came out of his mouth, running down his chin like cranberry juice.

He ca’int talk lie this. Let’s just get him inside, Lena said, leaning over the man and trying to stop the bleeding with the edge of her dress.

Frank took hold of the other man’s shoulder and tried to move him, but he winched in pain. Come on now, I ca’int help ‘yer if I ca’int move ‘yer.

Lena leant over to help and as his body uncurled, she realised he was huddled over something; an old, worn satchel. It was almost like he was protecting it. She supposed it made sense. Most people had so little to their names nowadays, they had to defend what little they still had.

It’s ok, we’ll take this with us, she said in the calmest voice she could manage as she took the satchel from the man.

He moaned again and reached out, trying to take it back, but he soon lost his strength. He could barely stand up as they supported him between the two of them, half-limping and half-dragged into the house. They lay him on their bed, not knowing where else to put him. There wasn’t exactly anymore space.

Lena ignored the man bleeding all over her bed as she examined the injury.

Looks bad, she said, the man pulling away with a wince as she touched it. We might have to send for the doctor.

He’ll never get here in time. And what are we gonna pay him with?

Lena gritted her teeth, knowing her husband was right. But she didn’t think she could treat the injured man herself, either. Her only experience with injury was treating the horses when they cut themselves on the fence. Even then, she had to take them out back and shoot them sometimes.

Find something we can tie around the wound. Maybe we can stop the bleeding.

Frank crashed around the kitchen until he returned with a few towels. They were still dirty, but they didn’t have anything else. She held them against the man’s wound, and he howled like a dog.

Find some alcohol, Frank said, taking over from Lena. It’ll help with the pain.

Lena searched through the pantry and every cupboard and closet they had. There wasn’t a drop of alcohol left in the house. They couldn’t even afford that anymore.

There ‘aint not alcohol in the house, she reported to her husband as she returned to his side. He was mopping the injured man’s head now with a wet rag. It seemed he had become delirious and had slipped into semi-consciousness.

Check his bag, Frank said, indicating to the man’s satchel without looking at it. Perhaps he’s got some on him.

It felt like a huge invasion of privacy to go through another man’s things, especially without his permission. But Lena didn’t exactly have much choice. Besides, she still had to know exactly who this man was who she and her husband had invited onto their property. She had a right to know that much, at least.

She opened the bag and felt for something cool and hard which could be a bottle of alcohol, or any medicine. But she didn’t find any. Not even a change of clothes. Her eyes boggled at the sight of dozens and dozens of bank notes filling the satchel.

Chapter Two

Lena was frozen in place. This couldn’t be real. She’d never seen so much money in one place before, let alone held it in her hand. This was like a dream. How could this man’s satchel be full of so much money and nothing else?

She gasped and looked at the man as she realised; he was a bank robber. That’s where all this money had come from. That’s why he’d been shot. He’d been trying to escape with his loot and had collapsed just outside of their farm. She was holding stolen money in her hands.

Her blood ran cold when the revelation hit her. If this was stolen money, it meant the law was after him. The man lying injured in her bed was a criminal. Perhaps it was the sheriff himself who had shot him. That meant they would be searching for him. They could come here asking about him. What would they say if they found out they were tending to a wanted criminal? Was that a crime? Or should she go to town right now and report it to the sheriff? She could hand the money back to the bank and maybe she’d get some kind of reward. They could certainly use it with times being so tough and the winter coming in fast.

She looked back at the money, so crisp and clean between her fingers. What if she didn’t return the money? This much would set them up for life. It wouldn’t matter anymore if the fields failed in a draught or if any of the animals went lame and had to be shot. They wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore. All of her dreams would be fulfilled. The life she’d always wanted was right there, in her hands. All she had to do was hold onto it. It was a wicked thought, but how else was she supposed to survive? Perhaps this man had been brought to their door on purpose. This could be the answer they were looking for; their prayers finally answered.

He doesn’t have no booze, Lena said, closing the satchel.

Turns out he don’t need none. He fell asleep, Frank said from the bedside, pulling a blanket over the injured man. Not much else we can do now except wait and see if he makes it through the night.

I need to talk to you, Lena said, holding the satchel close to her body and tugging on