Winds of Change (10 page)
Authors: Leah Atwood
Dear Reader,
Thank you for joining me on this third trip to Weatherton. I just love this little town and all its citizens, and I’ve loved sharing Patrick’s tale. Stories of redemption are some of my favorites to read and write. For me, they always inspire faith and hope. Now that you’ve read Patrick’s story, what do you think? Is he forgiven for his past behavior?
The next visit to Weatherton will depart from the Holden family, but don’t worry—they will still make appearances, as will Rand and Lettie.
As the warm weather approaches, are you busy planning your summer? Will you be staying home or taking a vacation? My goal is to one day visit all of America’s national parks and am excited that this year, my family will head to South Dakota to visit the Badlands and Black Hills. Don’t be surprised if the trip inspires a new book!
Whatever your plans, I pray your summer is filled with fun and family.
Until next time,
Leah
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Free to Love: Texas Wildflowers One
“We’re leaving.” Deputy Strand unlocked the cell door. “Time to get moving.”
Cord McGraw sat up from the hard platform being passed off as a bed. He didn’t say a word, only did what he was told. The sooner he did his time, the sooner he could get out of here. Deputy Strand secured his hands and led him outside to a team of horses hitched to a wagon.
“Get on up, now. We’re headed to Mucksbe.” The deputy jumped up from the left side.
Maneuvering with cuffed hands wasn’t easy, but Cord managed to climb into the wagon. Too proud to ask what was happening, he stared straight ahead and blocked out each jolt and jumble of the wagon as it ambled across the landscape.
Deputy Strand wiped his forehead with his arm sleeve. “You don’t talk much, do you, boy?”
“Words have never done me much good.” His tone matched his feelings—numb, monotonous, apathetic.
Sometime around noon, they arrived in Mucksbe. Cord was led into a church and his arms freed. He sat where directed and watched with concealed curiosity as each new person was brought into the building. The door creaked open again, and Cord looked back to see another deputy walk inside with a ragged man beside him.
“Sit down in the second pew.” The deputy gave the man a push on the shoulder.
The latest arrival made six men, including him, who sat in the desolate pews—each had been escorted by a deputy or sheriff. It wasn’t a stretch to assume the other men were criminals, and also the irony of them gathered in a place of worship didn’t escape Cord. Many years, even before he delved into the dark side, had passed since he’d last stepped foot inside such a building.
A snort almost broke away from him. Some criminal he’d turned out to be, getting caught the first and only time he’d broken the law. He didn’t belong with the likes of these men. The only reason he’d done what he had was to get the money Boss rightfully owed him. Ma and Coralie were counting on that money. Unfortunately for him, the law hadn’t seen it his way, and he was sentenced to two years in prison.
This morning was the first time in a month he’d gone more than ten feet from the jailhouse in Belleton, Texas. He still had most of his sentence left to serve, and it loomed ahead like a constant storm. Two years was too long to be away from Coralie. What would happen to her without his provisions?
Cord’s head jerked up when a large, imposing man entered the church, wearing a vest with a star-shaped badge attached. Another sheriff. The heavy door slammed shut behind him, sending a thundering echo through the building. An air of confidence and authority emanated from the sheriff as he walked down the aisle with long, deliberate strides. Some of the men sat at attention. Cord was indifferent.
The sheriff reached the front and leaned his back against the pulpit, his arms crossed in rigid form. His eyes landed on each man in the room, resting on them individually for a few seconds. Cord met his gaze and refused to flinch or blink. He even dared a tight nod.
“I am Sheriff Daniels. Welcome to Mucksbe, your new home, should you choose to make it.” Again, the sheriff took several moments to make eye contact with each man.
The hairs rose on Cord’s neck, and his ears perked. Now his interest was captured.
The dark-haired man in front of Cord shifted to the edge of his seat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Yeah, what do you mean by ‘new home’ exactly.” A scraggly blond haired man, who appeared an age similar to Cord’s twenty-three years, asked.
Unfazed by the skepticism, Sheriff Daniels kept his severe pose. “Men, each of you have been handpicked to participate in the new Freedom Brides program.”
“Brides?” Cord choked.
“Yes, Freedom Brides.” Sheriff Daniels grinned—it was an arrogant, mocking smile. “As a joint effort among several local communities, we’ve devised a social outreach program to combat multiple problems facing our towns.”
“Get to the gist.” The dark-haired man, the one who’d been the last to arrive, scowled.
Sheriff Daniels narrowed his gaze. “Any more outbursts and your offer to participate will be immediately rescinded.”
The man clenched his jaw but remained quiet.
“Each of you was chosen as a flagship participant because your crimes while still demanding punishment, are minor infractions. I and the other sheriffs involved believe you each have something to offer that will better our community.”
Or in my case, was only trying to get what was rightfully mine.
Silence reigned among the six men, every one of them at rapt attention.
Cord rose his hand, and the sheriff nodded permission to speak. “What does this program entail?”
“If you choose, you will marry a woman in need in exchange for your freedom.”
Beads of sweat broke out on Cord’s forehead. To gain his freedom, he’d have to marry? What kind of nonsense was this?
“I’m not too sure I follow,” the dark-haired man spoke again.
“A woman alone in the west is in a dangerous predicament, though often by no fault of their own. It is our hope to preempt that danger by placing said women with husbands.” The sheriff’s brief lapse of his confident pose told Cord he wasn’t overly confident of the plan.
And why would he be? It was absurd. “With all due respect, Sir, we are criminals. Why would the authorities believe these women not to be in danger to us?”
Cord would never hurt a woman, but that was beside the fact. Perhaps he shouldn’t say anything to dissuade the program, but he wasn’t certain marriage was a better sentence than his two years.
“In most circumstances, I would agree with you. However, all six of you were carefully considered before you were brought here.” Sheriff Daniels sighed and exhaled a deep breath mixed with equal measures of hope and wariness. “The other presiding sheriffs and I believe that in the case of each of you there is not inborn contempt that led you your crimes, rather a lack of maturity or good sense.”
Another man started to speak, but Sheriff Daniels held up a hand to stop him. “I understand that this is unconventional, but I truly believe it to be a program that will benefit the community in numerous ways.”
“So all we have to do is marry a woman and we get our freedom?” This time, it was a man who hadn’t spoken yet that asked the question.
“Essentially, yes.” The sheriff crossed his arms again, resuming the air of authority. “There are parameters, of course, that must be followed.”
“Such as?” Cord’s mind was reeling.
The sheriff removed folded papers from his inner vest pocket. He straightened them out and handed each man a sheet. “They are all written here. Should you choose to participate, you must sign this paper, agreeing to abide by all rules. Otherwise, you’ll be returned to the jail cell you came from, same as if you break any of them.”
Cord took the paper handed to him and read the handwritten rules.
Remain within a fifteen-mile radius of the courthouse for the first six months of program involvement.
Refrain from any alcohol or tobacco use.
Refrain from entering any den of iniquity.
Remain faithful to their spouse and not bring any harm upon them.
Actively participate in assisting with spouse’s needs/requests.
Participate in one day of community service per month for the first six months.
Most didn’t seem so bad, except the first one. It meant he wouldn’t be able to go check on Ma and Coralie for another six months, but it would be sooner than serving out his two years.
Still, marriage for freedom? Was the trade-off worth it? He still wasn’t sure, but when the time came to sign his name, he dipped the pen into the ink and scrawled
Cord McGraw
on the indicated line. For better or worse, he was getting married.
