Hope Read Free Page A

uncertain about her new role—that of caregiver rather than receiver. “Yes—I’ll have to forgo my trip—but there will be others. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to Della. The moment she’s able, we’ll return home and have our family doctor assume her care.”
    “Got to get back on the road.” Mr. Barnes picked up his hat and left.
    “I’m coming.” Hope rose and embraced Anne, then touched Miss Della’s unresponsive hand. With a final glance over her shoulder, she returned to the stage.
    Dear Lord, please restore Miss Della to health. And please watch over Anne and keep her from harm.
    The coach lurched forward, and Hope’s gaze fell on Anne’s turquoise bag lying on the seat. Picking it up, she moved to call out the window for Mr. Barnes to stop the stage but then realized that she could arrange for the purse to be returned. The driver had made it clear that he intended to stay on time. Hope opened the turquoise tote. Inside were a few of Anne’s calling cards, some spare hairpins, a gold locket engraved with Anne’s initials, and a small mirror, also engraved. Valuable treasures, but nothing Anne couldn’t do without for a few weeks.
    The day seemed endless without the senator’s daughter’s conversation to break the monotony. Hope’s clothing was covered in dust, and she’d have given nearly everything she owned to be able to take her hair down and brush it out. A headache pounded between her eyes.
    In spite of the discomfort, she finally dozed, dreaming of Kentucky, a hot bath, and a bed that didn’t rock.

    Dan Sullivan wearily urged his horse down the steep incline. Up ahead, the Davidson gang wound their way through the narrow pass. Four months. He never planned on this assignment taking four long months. Was Franklin nuts, sending him on this wild-goose chase? The Davidson gang was a threat, all right—to anyone who came near them. How they’d managed to lift twenty thousand dollars in army payroll he’d never know. They moved at a whim, choosing a target by chance, never with apparent forethought. Yet their luck was uncanny. Or else someone was feeding them information. But if this was the case, Dan had been unable to identify the source.
    Joining up with the gang had been easy. Frank had done an admirable job spreading the word about the legendary Grunt Lawson. Grunt was accepted into the gang and given the job as lookout.
    But Dan was tired.
    Tired of cold food and sleeping on hard ground. Tired of washing in cold streams and tired of watching his back.
    Weary of living with imbeciles.
    This case had no apparent end in sight. The gang had hit several payrolls, but Dan considered it blind luck. If something didn’t happen soon, he was going back to Washington and tell Frank he was through. Spring was here, and he didn’t have a potato in the ground. The thought irked him. His plans were made, and he didn’t like interruptions.
    Big Joe drew his bay to a halt at a wide place in the trail. “This is it.”
    Boris and Frog reined up short. Boris’s mare jolted the rump of Big Joe’s stallion. Big Joe turned to give the outlaw a dirty look.
    Boris blankly returned the look. “This is what?”
    “This is where the stage’ll be comin’ through. We wait here until we see the dust on that second rise over there. Back yore horse up, Boris! Yore crowdin’ me.”
    Boris grudgingly complied.
    Dan studied the road below. It was the third stage the gang had attempted to rob in as many weeks. Somehow, their luck had soured lately. Yesterday Boris broke a stirrup. He rode it to the ground, and the stage flew past before he got the horse stopped and his foot untangled.
    The week before, Frog had burst out of the bushes and had ridden straight into the oncoming coach. He was thrown fifty feet into the air and was lucky he hadn’t broken his neck. His horse ran off, and they still hadn’t found her. Frog had to steal a horse to replace the missing one; he also nursed some