Hope Read Online Free Page B

here?
    Frog pitched the valise to the ground, then climbed down. A moment later the gang mounted, and Boris and Frog fired their guns in the air. The sudden explosion spooked Big Joe’s horse, and it reared, spilling Joe and the woman to the ground. In a flurry of screeches and petticoats, Hope landed hard on top of the outlaw. The breath whooshed out of him. He lay for a moment, staring blankly up at the sky.
    Bounding to her feet, Hope kicked dust at the outlaw. “How dare you!”
    Joe’s face flamed, and he rolled awkwardly to his feet. “Doggone it.”
    Brushing dust off the back of her dress, Hope glared at him. “Can’t you ride a horse?”
    He swore and glared at her. “The fool thing spooked.”
    Boris eyed the stage drivers warily. “Quit messin’ around, Joe. We gotta get outta here.”
    Joe climbed back on the horse, swung Hope up behind him, and the gang rode off in a boil of dust.

    Hope’s heart hammered as the horses galloped down the narrow road. Fear crowded her throat, but she refused to give in to its paralyzing effects. She was scared—more frightened than she’d ever been in her life. Were they going to kill her? How soon before someone found her bones that the buzzards had picked clean and shipped them back to Aunt Thalia? Pray, Hope. Pray! But her thoughts were frozen.
    She quickly weighed her options. She couldn’t convince these men that she wasn’t Anne Ferry. Perhaps that was good. When they discovered that she was Hope Kallahan and not the senator’s daughter, they’d have no further use for her. But she could identify them. They would be forced to do away with her in order to save their rotten hides.
    She had to pretend to be Anne until she could escape. That’s what she had to do. Pretend to be Thomas Ferry’s daughter until she could get away from these horrible men.
    The men pushed the horses hard, up ravines and through narrow passes. Hope lost track of time. She concentrated on staying astride the animal though her limbs were numb. They rode at a feverish pace, but the one called Grunt controlled his horse effortlessly. He was different from the others. His body was hard and lean. His shirt and denims—even his bedroll looked clean and well kept.
    Hope found herself hypnotized by the horse’s rhythm beneath her. Surrendering to exhaustion, she lay her head against Big Joe’s back and closed her eyes. Her mind refused to rest. She wasn’t Anne Ferry. What would happen to her when these men discovered their mistake?
    Toward dark, she became aware that the riders were slowing. She sat up straighter, trying to focus.
    The sun was sinking behind a row of tall pine trees as they rode into a small clearing. A shallow stream gurgled nearby. Hope peered around the outlaw’s shoulder and saw a ramshackle cabin set in the middle of the meadow, the front door sagging half-off its hinges. Her pulse quickened, and her arms tightened around her captor’s waist.
    “Home sweet home, girlie.” Big Joe swung out of the saddle, pitching the reins to Boris. The desperado stalked toward the cabin, leaving Hope to dismount for herself.
    As she attempted to climb down, a pair of strong arms grasped her around the waist. Grunt lifted her out of the saddle and onto the ground. His touch was surprisingly gentle.
    Yanking free of his grasp, she marched toward the rickety shelter.
    “Whooooeeee. Got us a fireball!” Joe stood on the front porch, mock fright on his face. “Hurry along, darlin’. You got to write a note to yore daddy.”
    “I don’t know how to write,” Hope said, trying to meet his one-eyed gaze. One eye kept going south.
    He managed to focus. “Stubborn, ain’t ya?”
    “Your effort to extort money from Mr. Ferry is useless.”
    Big Joe bent forward, and Hope fought the urge to run. His good eye pinned her. “We know who you are, so jest stop sayin’ that unlessin you want to get me riled. Your luggage says you are, your purty gold engraved locket says so too. Yore