The Sheriff's Rebellious Bride (Historical Western Romance) Read online

  The Sheriff’s Rebellious Bride

  A Western Historical Romance

  Cassidy Hanton

  Edited by

  Maggie Berry

  Contents

  A Thank You Gift

  About the book

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Loving a Forbidden Bride

  About the book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Also by Cassidy Hanton

  About the Author

  A Thank You Gift

  Thanks a lot for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because this is the best way to show me your love.

  As a Thank You gift I have written a full length novel for you called Finding the Broken Cowboy. It’s only available to people who have downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping this link here.

  Again, thank you ever so much for your continuous love and support!

  Cassidy Hanton

  About the book

  He made her feel the infinite number of feelings, In which she lost herself...

  Since her father’s mysterious disappearance, Geraldine Laurel has been struggling to make ends meet while taking care of her mentally unstable mother. When her favorite neighbor is found dead, her life suddenly becomes turbulent.

  Robert Bradway, a lonesome sheriff with a tragic background, investigates an enigmatic murder. Once he meets the beautiful Geraldine, the victim’s closest friend, his dark days seem to finally be over.

  Under the most unfortunate circumstances, a true love blossoms…

  But while working together to find answers to the riddle, their questions lead them to old secrets capable of tearing them apart. With very little time left, they soon discover that the person behind the attack is not only beyond suspicion but also ready to strike again...

  Prologue

  Arizona, 1897

  It is a fine day to be roaming about at the rodeo, Elsa thought to herself.

  A small boy who was missing both front teeth jumped in front of her, blocking her way, holding a pamphlet of today's events. “Could you please sign this for me?”

  “Sure thing, sugar.” On it was a terrible sketch of her, but Elsa still smiled and scribbled her false name on it. She even patted the boy upon returning the paper, messing his golden hair up a little, for good measure.

  It was clear by the radiant smile the boy gave her in return, that she made his day. If only he knew the truth, Elsa chuckled inside.

  “I wanna ride just like you when I grow up,” the boy announced, still in a daze.

  “It's time to go, Timmy,” the mother jumped in, and by the look she gave Elsa, it was clear something like that would never happen as long as she was around. And Elsa did not take that to heart.

  Elsa was accustomed to such treatment. She was a woman in a man's world, after all. It was true that the crowd adored her; still, it was hard reaching this level, especially if you're an orphan and a woman on top of anything else. Not that anybody knew that about her.

  Women were not allowed to compete, so Elsa had to pretend to be a man, which caused her a whole new set of problems. She barely had any time to simply be herself, always in fear she would get discovered and thrown away. However, that was a price she had to pay to do what she loved. After everything was said and done, that was the only thing that really mattered to her. She did what she loved, using her God-given talent to ride her horse and compete among the men that considered her their equal.

  It was a true bliss to be surrounded by a cheering crowd and be on the top. Until she wasn't...

  Elsa Potter opened her eyes. It was all but a dream. She often dreamed about the “good old days” and the events that followed. Sometimes she thought it was equally a blessing and a curse.

  There were no sounds around her apart from her own ragged breathing. The quiet never bothered her before. As of late it started to, and she couldn't quite understand why. Overall, she did not look forward to starting another day. It was true, she was not a young girl anymore, her best years long gone and behind her, but she never felt this old before. Ancient even—completely spent.

  For the last couple of months, her health had started to deteriorate rapidly, and as it turned out, there was nothing she could do about it. Not being in control of something so basic as her own body was frightening. Elsa was never afraid of anything, thinking death was a part of a natural process, yet this physical decline changed her notions.

  She did not like feeling helpless and was too proud to ask for help. Not that anyone would help me, she reminded herself grudgingly. Instantly, she banished that thought. It was not like her to feel self-pity. It is just the illness talking, she reminded herself firmly, taking a deep breath.

  At first, she simply thought she caught a common cold during the last big storm they had. The storm raged all day but reached its peak during the night, and one of the horses on her ranch got severely spooked by the constant thunders and somehow managed to break out of its stall. Elsa, who was already on the way there to soothe the horses, saw this happening, and it took her quite some time, and a great deal of imagination and improvisation, to catch and bring the frightened animal back.

  Of course, by the time she managed to do that and calm it enough to walk it back to the stalls, Elsa was soaking wet and shivering from the cold. The runny nose passed in a couple of days, however, the fatigue and the lack of appetite persisted. Unfortunately, the cramps and vomiting that followed were what really made her feel even more miserable than she already was.

  Seeing no other way, Elsa called a physician, and he gave her some kind of tonic to drink twice a day. At times she did feel a tad better, but not by much. Usually, she felt the tonic was not worth a bother.

  Come on, Elsa, time to face another day, she encouraged herself, trying to finally get out of bed. The cold began to bother her as well, so she started sleeping fully clothed. Besides, it wasn't like she had the energy to change. Sadly, she did not get far if at all. She could not move a muscle. Not that she had much left on her.

  She would much rather stay in bed indefinitely, alas, that was not an option. The horses were not going to feed themselves, and she had no help on the ranch. So Elsa had no other choice than to put all her troubles aside and just do what needed to be done.

  Elsa spent all her life alone, and truth be told, she preferred it as such. There was a certain kind of freedom in doing everything on your own. Of course, at times like this, even she wondered if she made all the right decisions that led her here and now.

  Oh, snap out of it, Elsa, she wanted to cuss at herself. Because overall, she lived her life the way she wanted, by breaking rules and making it on her own along the way. That was a great deal more than a small-town girl like herself could ever hope for. It
was true she reached the age at which women usually had grown up children by now, maybe even a few grandchildren, and Elsa was still unwed. That was her choice as well. There was a time men of all ages and statuses begged for her attention, some wanted to marry her as well, but she said no to all of them. Elsa simply wasn't the settling type and was at peace about that part of herself.

  Here we go, she gritted her teeth getting out of bed. Sitting on the edge and then standing up took an eternity. Once she did and made only one step toward the door, she had to stop since the lightheadedness threatened to push her right back from where she started.

  Oh, no you don't. Taking a few deep breaths, Elsa started walking again once she became confident enough she would stay vertical. The best decision she made was to stop using the upstairs bedroom and simply sleep downstairs; it saved her a great deal of energy and time.

  Entering the kitchen on shaky legs, Elsa settled on drinking a glass of sweetened tea instead of preparing herself something more solid for breakfast, fully knowing she would lose it either way, and sooner rather than later.

  She ignored the cramps in her stomach that followed as she went outside to take care of her animals. Horses were her biggest love. Maybe even her only love. Sometimes, she thought they were the only reason she stayed alive for this long in the first place. Because there was not a shred of doubt in her mind that she was dying.

  “Good morning, my lovelies.” Elsa mustered a smile, entering the stable. Dawson, her favorite stallion that was as old as she was, only in horse years, peeked his head out, in greeting and she patted his grayed head. Afterward, she slowly started doing her rounds, making sure all her horses were fed, had clean water, and were taken care of, not that she had many horses these days.

  Once finished, Elsa leaned against the wooden frame to catch her breath as beads of sweat went down her face. I can't keep going like this. She was aware of that, but what other choice did she have?

  Wiping the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve, she returned to the house. That took her some time, more than she cared to admit, and once inside she felt like weeping from joy. Elsa wasn't ready to leave this world, not yet, but on the other hand, she did not care to live in such a state, either. She felt stuck in the middle between the living and the dead, and the experience was rather tiring, to say the least.

  Elsa considered herself a fighter, she always was—a fighter and a rebel that did what she wanted, took what she wanted as well, without any remorse. Maybe this is my punishment for living life the way I did?

  Elsa wanted with all her might to continue living her life the way she always did. Unfortunately, this was one thing she did not know how to fight. She was too stubborn to simply die, but how do you fight an enemy you could not see?

  Taking a piece of stale bread from the kitchen counter, she retired to the living room and slumped unceremoniously into the armchair. From there, she had a prime view on all her accomplishments. She kept all her awards, mementos, and a few drawings on the nearby bureau. Once upon a time, Elsa was quite famous. She really loved that period of her life, and it loved her. At least for a while.

  Elsa closed her eyes while she tried to eat, as the memories flooded her mind. Thoughts that usually started with if only joined in.

  Eventually, her luck ran out, and Elsa had an accident. She reached the finale and was competing for another win when she lost her grip and fell off her horse, hard. She was on her favorite mustang doing her routine, and a heartbeat later, she was underneath him as the overwhelming pain coursed through her body, dulling all her other senses.

  * * *

  “No!” Elsa screamed, opening her eyes only to find herself in her living area, still sitting in the armchair. She must have fallen asleep at some point. The piece of bread got stuck inside her throat, and she started to cough, struggling to catch a breath.

  Elsa broke her leg in two places on that horrible day, but that was not the worst thing that happened to her.

  Her secret was out, and she was banned from ever competing again. Not that she was capable of it. After her leg fully healed, she managed to ride a horse just fine, but simply being fine was not good enough for the stunts she usually had to do during a competition.

  She felt quite miserable afterward as her name was dragged through the mud. As if a woman who dared to do something different other than getting married and bearing children was the most horrible thing in the world.

  So, Elsa returned home to Oatman, getting a job as a showgirl in the local saloon. That, too, brought her a certain, somewhat different, type of reputation she did not care for. The women seldom understood her or wanted to have anything to do with her, and men simply wanted to bed her. Sometimes she would let them.

  She had one friend in the entire world since childhood, Stephanie Laurel, and that did not change despite anything. Years passed, and over time Elsa managed to save enough money to buy the saloon and the small ranch—the ranch she still lived on—and retired near the Laurel family and her best friend Stephanie, while living on a handsome wage.

  Still, she often fantasized what could have been if she continued to ride and compete. Elsa never once visited a rodeo show after her accident. The pain she experienced was too great for her to deal with, although she built a satisfying life afterward.

  If only she did not mess up that day. Elsa was drinking heavily the night before, celebrating something that appeared to be of great importance at the moment, even though she could not remember what it was now, and was understandably hungover the next morning; the day of the competition. “Eli! Eli!” Elsa could still hear the crowd as they cheered when it was her turn to enter the ring.

  No matter how many times she went through those events, she couldn't fathom how she lost her grip. She did that same thing hundreds, even thousands of times over, movements that were a second nature to her, so it should not have happened.

  Sadly, it did. The fall was brutal, splitting her bone instantly with a loud crack, and the pain that followed was unimaginable. Elsa stopped herself there. She hated dwelling on the past. “Blast!” She wanted to curse. On top of everything else, her bad leg started to trouble her, announcing a change in weather.

  Needing something to do with herself, and not brood on the past or her glum non-existing future, she propelled herself out of the chair, which immediately triggered a severe wave of nausea, and she threw up in a bucket she kept close by, just for that purpose.

  Wiping her mouth once she finished, she shook her head. Not to clear it, because that was impossible, but because she still couldn't understand how all of this became her everyday life, constant pain and misery.

  Entering the kitchen, she decided to make some light dinner, all though she knew she wouldn't be able to stomach it. “Oh, why don't you just die and be done with it,” she murmured, spotting her pale reflection in one of the pans.

  This was not the way she wanted to live her life. This was not the way she wanted to die, either. “I just wondered the very same thing,” a voice said behind her, startling her. She didn't realize someone came in. Although, in her state of mind, a herd of elephants could pass her receiving room and she still would not be the wiser.”

  Elsa turned, frowning. “Wha—” she started to ask, but the person in front of her continued to speak.

  “I truly hoped the poison would have finished you off by now, yet here you are. And I don't want to wait any longer.”

  Poison? Elsa's mind spiraled. I am poisoned. On second thought, she should have known from the start. What was happening to her clearly wasn't natural. “You truly are damned, Elsa. Not even the devil wants you,” her visitor spat.

  The knowledge about what was truly happening to her filled her with an overwhelming sense of peace for some reason. That was when she spotted another threat. Her visitor came prepared, wearing a pair of leather gloves, firmly clutching a steer rope in one hand, clearly itching to use it, and Elsa mustered a smile. “I guess I don't have to ask why,” she replied conve
rsationally.

  “You know why.”

  That was true enough. She did a lot of bad things in her life that could earn her such fate. Still, Elsa had only one regret in her life, and it was standing in front of her. However, that did not mean she was about to surrender and accept her fate calmly.

  Without a thought, she lunged forward, figuring an attack was the best self-defense. Elsa was not about to go down without a proper fight. She never backed down and wasn't about to start now. Her attacker let out a shout of a surprise but recovered quickly and started to wrestle with Elsa, only to be pushed away.