Hope by Lori Copeland Read Free Book Online Page B

the admonition clearly. Aunt Thalia was a saint; Hope wasn’t.
    “I’m not without sin, Aunt Thalia, but unlike some people, I don’t steal money and terrorize innocent people,” she muttered.
    Grunt turned to look over his shoulder. “I know you said something that time.”
    Hope realized she’d spoken her thoughts out loud. Her face flamed. “I was talking to myself, if you don’t mind.”
    The rain came down in blowing sheets. They pressed back into the shelter and huddled as lightning split the sky and the ground rumbled beneath them. Dear Lord, why must I be a prisoner of a man I find so appealing? Why couldn’t Grunt look and act despicable, like Big Joe?
    It might take weeks—months—for the men to recognize their mistake. The ransom note would have to be delivered. Thomas Ferry would know that someone was playing a cruel trick and strike a match to the absurd request. Then the outlaws would have to wait more weeks before they were sure their demands weren’t going to be met. She couldn’t survive months here in that one-room cabin! Even if she could keep the men fooled into thinking she was Anne Ferry, when they received no response to the ransom note they’d investigate and discover she wasn’t Ferry’s daughter. Then what? Fear constricted her throat as another clap of thunder rocked the ground.
    Grunt shifted. Was her presence unnerving to him? She hoped so—she sincerely hoped so. It would serve him right.
    Settling himself in a dry spot, he tipped his hat over his face and appeared to sleep. Hope’s eyes gauged the distance between her and where he rested. It was now or never. Grunt’s warning rang in her ears. “It would be suicide for a woman alone in these parts.” But it would be suicidal of her to remain in his custody.
    It was pouring rain—she could hide in the bushes, make her way back to civilization under the guise of darkness. It wasn’t the smartest plan, but then she’d never been in this situation before. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
    Was that Scripture?
    No, Uncle Frank used to say that to Aunt Thalia.
    Springing from beneath the rock outcropping, Hope ran. As fast and as hard as she could run. Faster than she’d ever run in her life. Her breath came in gasps as she leapt puddles and dodged prickly bushes. Disoriented, she beat her way through thick underbrush. Rain sluiced down, blinding her. She could hear Grunt shouting at her.
    “Come back here, you little fool!”
    She ran on, praying that the thunder would cover the noise of her flight. Turning to look back, she plowed headlong into a tree. The impact threw her into a bush, and she lay on her back, stunned.
    “Anne! Don’t be foolish—you can’t make it alone!”
    Rolling to her side, she doubled up, holding her breath. Grunt’s voice boomed above the downpour.
    “Miss Ferry! Anne!”
    Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed. Don’t let him find me; please, please, don’t let him find me.
    “You can’t get away—don’t try it!” His voice sounded nearer at times, then farther away.
    “I can, if I escape you,” she whispered.
    The minutes crept by. Her legs began to ache, but she couldn’t move. Any sound, even in the pouring rain, would alert him. She was chilled to the bone now. How long before he would give up and return to the cabin for help? By then, she would be so far down the road they’d never find her.
    She lay for hours, listening for footfalls, terrified to move. Toward evening, the rain slowed to a cold drizzle. Teeth chattering, she listened to small animals moving around foraging for food. A raccoon crept close, and she shooed it away with her hand. Two more appeared, their beady eyes wide with curiosity.
    Her voice was barely a whisper. “Hungry, fellows?” She didn’t blame them. The thought of bacon and bread and rich, black coffee haunted her.
    She scavenged beneath the bush and came up with a handful of acorns, then gently pitched them several feet away. The coons