Find a Christian store

<< Go Back

Oklahoma Brides

By Vickie McDonough

Order Now!

prologue
April 2, 1889, Indian Territory

Never in her whole life had Rebekah Bailey done anything so daring, but then, she’d never been this desperate. She peered over her shoulder as she tiptoed toward the barn. In silent support, her shadow marched eerily beside her. The full moon illuminated the rickety A-frame house that had always been her home. The breath she’d been holding came out in a ragged sigh. At least she’d managed to get out of the house without Curtis hearing her. But she was far from safe.
Her heartbeat resounded in her ears, and she was certain her neighbors miles away could hear it. Hugging her ancient carpetbag against her chest, she hurried faster.
Sucking in a deep, chilling breath, Rebekah managed to squeeze through the narrow barn-door opening without it squeaking. Hopefully, she’d saddle Prince just as quietly, then slip away without waking the man in the house. If not, her world would end—and all her dreams along with it.
The old horse raised his head to peer at her, snorted softly, then ducked back down as if he knew it wasn’t time to be awakened. Rebekah set aside her small bundle of possessions. The bulky saddle was always a struggle to lift, but tonight, under stress and fear, she thought it felt extraordinarily heavy. With a grunt, she labored to hoist it onto Prince’s back, stealing glances at the barn door lest Curtis sneak up on her. Once she had the saddle in place and cinched, she used the leather strings behind the cantle to secure the handles of the old carpetbag that held everything she owned.
“Come on, Prince. You’re my champion—my only means of escape,” Rebekah whispered to the old gelding as she led him from the stall. His brown ears flicked back and forth as if he were listening intently. “Ride the wind tonight, my prince.”
She looped her canteen over the saddle horn, twisted the stirrup around, and inserted her foot. With a quick hop and a soft grunt, she pulled herself onto the horse, ducking her head to avoid smacking it into the hayloft. Rebekah tapped her heels to Prince’s side. e raised his head and snorted but didn’t move.
“Oh, no. C’mon, boy. Please go.” She nudged him again. Prince blew out a soft nicker and mild snort of resignation, then plodded forward.
Rebekah pushed against the barn door with her foot. It swung open on a groan and high-pitched squeal. Body tensing and every nerve fraying, she darted her gaze toward the house. “Oh, please, Lord, don’t let Curtis hear. Please, God, help me,” she pleaded to the moonlit sky.
No shadows moved in the night, and nobody rushed out of the house to stop her. Rebekah clicked twice out the side of her mouth and nudged the horse with her heels. Prince trotted out of the yard and down the road. The thunk of his hooves pounding against the hard ground sounded to Rebekah like the mighty roar of a herd of cattle rumbling by.
She blew out a “Shhh,” knowing it did no good. Rebekah took another glance at the only home she’d ever known, wishing desperately that things were different. To the north, she saw the shadowy outline of the mighty oak tree standing guard over the graves where her mother and little brother were buried.
Rebekah slowed Prince to a walk and allowed herself a wisp of a moment to bid them good-bye. “I’m sorry, Mama. I can’t do what he demands of me,” she whispered to the headstones enclosed behind the weathered picket fence. Her stomach churned with the regret of what could have been, and her eyes burned with unshed tears.
If only I could turn back time. Back to when Mama and Davy were alive. Back to when we were a relatively happy family. Back before Curtis hated me. If only. . .
A sharp creak in the direction of the house jerked Rebekah from her reverie. With a quick tug on the reins and a nudge of her foot to his flank, she turned Prince west. West toward the open plains and Indian Territory. West toward Denver—and freedom. She prayed it was the last place Curtis would think to look for her.
The chanting of tree frogs lent music to her ride, and an owl hooted somewhere in a nearby tree. She used to love the sounds of the night, but now they only reminded her of her pain and loneliness. Hoping to ward off the chill, she tugged her worn cloak around her. The world seemed normal, asleep, as it should in the middle of the night. Rebekah felt anything but normal. Her world had fallen apart this evening with Curtis’s declaration. Nothing would ever be the same for her. She shivered at the memory.
“I’ve made a deal with Giles Wilbur,” he’d said, grinning with pride. “Swapped you for a side of beef and some moonshine. In the morning, you’ll be moving in with him and be his woman.” Thoughts of the drunken sloth of a man more than twice her age made her blood run cold. How could Curtis expect her to live with Mr. Wilbur without even the sanctity of a wedding? How could he simply swap her like she was something to be bartered? Bile churned in her stomach and burned a path to her throat. Tears blurred her vision and streamed down her cheeks.
She’d never felt so alone. Completely alone—as though not a single person in the world cared for her—but the gentle touch of the wind to her cheek reminded her of the One who never failed. Rebekah turned to her heavenly Father as Prince trotted down the dark road.
“Protect me, Lord—and show me the way. And, Father. . .oh Father, give me courage for the ride ahead, and strengthen Prince’s old bones—”
The faint sound of approaching hoofbeats intruded on Rebekah’s prayer.
Oh, no! Curtis!
She was certain her heart would jump clear out of her chest. The reins nearly slipped from her trembling hands. Fear of what was behind her overpowered the fear of what was ahead.
Taking a deep, determined breath and a firm grip on the reins, Rebekah dug her heels into Prince’s side.
“He-yah,” she cried softly.
Prince vaulted into a gallop and raced down the road.

Order Now!

<< Go Back


Developed by Camna, LLC

This is a service provided by ACFW, but does not in any way endorse any publisher, author, or work herein.