Hope by Barbara Goss (primary phonics books txt) 📗

except for a handkerchief. The bandit emptied the reticules and money into a saddlebag. One bandits grabbed the money clip from the man who’d ridden beside her. When the outlaw opened her reticule, he threw it on the ground.

“Where’s yer money?”

Hope's knees shook so badly, she feared she might fall over. “I have none.”

“No jewelry, either?”

Hope shook her head.

“Forget her,” one bandit, obviously the leader, yelled at them. “We got the gold. Let’s get out of here.”

Behind him, Hope watched the stage driver slowly reach under his seat and pull out a rifle and aim it at the leader. The bandit closest to Hope saw the rifle and shot it out of the driver’s hands but not before he’d pulled the trigger. Hope felt a searing pain rip through her chest before she fell to the ground.

Chapter Sixteen

Daniel sat alone in the dining room, staring at his dinner plate. Nothing looked appetizing. He threw his napkin down and stood. He’d eat with Esther and Sam.  Daniel picked his cup and plate up and walked to the kitchen where he stood just inside the room and gazed around. The lamp had been dimmed and everything had been cleaned and put away. They’d gone home for the night.

He emptied his plate into the trash barrel and went up to bed. The house was large and lonely, and he didn’t like it one bit. Daniel tossed and turned and decided there was no use complaining about things; he had to act.

Daniel got dressed in the morning, picked up the locket from the dresser, and stared at it in his hand before rubbing it against his cheek. He sank into an armchair and spoke to the locket. “I’m sorry, Nancy, but it’s time for me to move on. I can’t compare what I feel with Hope to what I felt with you because you’re both so different. You will always have a small place in my heart, but the rest of it has to go to the living or to Hope, if she’ll have me.”

Daniel placed the locket in a small box on his dresser where he kept his keys, coins, and cufflinks. He left the bedroom, closed the door behind him, and prepared for his journey to Oregon City.

Sam galloped up the lane just as Daniel was saddling his horse. He slid to the ground and walked over to Daniel.

“I heard some awful news in town, Daniel. A stagecoach was robbed yesterday and all the passengers shot.”

Daniel felt as if his heart had stopped beating. “Which stagecoach?”

Sam looked at the ground.

“No!”

Sam nodded. “Oregon City. It was carrying a chest full of gold.”

Daniel jumped onto his horse and raced to the Multnomah Sheriff’s Office, praying as he rode. Hope couldn’t be dead. He’d never told her he loved her. Even if she didn’t reciprocate, he wanted her to know that. He slid off his horse, tied it, and pushed open the door to the sheriff’s office.

“Where did they take the passengers from the stagecoach robbery?” Daniel blurted to the man sitting behind the desk.

“To the undertaker,” the man said.

Daniel’s voice cracked with emotion. “All of them?”

“I think there was one or two survivors—at least they were survivors yesterday.”

Daniel's heart beat so hard he felt dizzy. “Where would they be?”

“I would think Doc McAdoo’s clinic.”

Daniel grabbed the front of the desk to hold himself up. He felt dizzy and nauseous.

“I think I’d better accompany you there.” The man stood. “I’m Sheriff McMillan, by the way. And you are?”

“Daniel Townsend.”

“C’mon: follow me,” the sheriff said.

Hope opened her eyes and gazed slowly around the room. Where was she? Then the memories rained down on her—she'd been shot. She stiffened in fear, and a pain shot through her chest.

“So, you’re finally awake,” a male voice said. “She turned to see the gentle smile of Doctor McAdoo. He peered at her over his spectacles. His wrinkled face was endearing.

“Where am I?”

“You were closer to Portland at the time of the incident, and since you needed immediate medical care, they brought you here to my clinic.”

She felt relieved that she was in Portland. Daniel would help her. She tried to sit, but the pain was too great.

“Now, none of that sitting, you hear?” he said with a wink. “You need to rest. The injury you suffered needs to heal. I removed the bullet, and as far as I can see, there isn’t any damage to your vital organs, but you have a nasty crack in one of your ribs.”

She needed to tell the doctor to contact Daniel, but as she opened her mouth to speak, he put a needle in her arm. She became a bit euphoric, forgot what she’d wanted to say, and fell asleep.

Daniel rushed into the clinic wide-eyed and frantic, but the reception area was empty. “Hello?” he called out several times, each time a little louder than before.

“Hush!” an elderly man said as he came into the room. “I have sick people here.”

Daniel tried to calm down. “I’m looking for a woman who was on the stagecoach.”

“I sent two women across the street.”

Daniel spun to look out the front window. “Across the street?” He caught sight of the building there. He gasped. “Multnomah Mortuary?” He held on to a chair to keep from falling. “No.”

“And I’ve one upstairs.”

“Which one? I’m looking for Hope Townsend.”

“Calm down and take a seat.” The man pushed him into a chair. “I had two live patients brought in yesterday. The man died, but the woman is still alive.”

“I need to know if it’s my wife.”

“Come to think of it, she looks oddly familiar. She might be your wife.”

“My