Read Online Black Ransom by Stone Wallace - Free Book Online Page A

think you got off easy, Ehron Lee, but mark my words. I promise you here and now that Melinda won’t be waiting for yuh when you get out. I’ll do everything in my power during that time to convince her to leave you. I’ll take her and the baby away where she’ll be able to start a new life. A life free of your tarnish. She won’t be there and neither will the child . . .
if
you get out. But as far as I’m concerned, Ehron Lee, I hope you rot.”
    Abigail spoke with such cruel emphasis that Ehron Lee was thankful Sheriff Leighton was standing next to him; otherwise he was sure he would have gone for her throat and throttled her. He only wished that he had the opportunity to speak with Melinda, to warn her of her sister’s intentions and to urge her not to listen to anything she might say.
    But he was powerless. Soon he would be distanced from Melinda—locked in a prison cell, and Abigail would regain the complete control over her sister that she’d had up until the time Melinda met and married Ehron Lee. A control which she still tried to enforce during the period the couple lived with her and Winston. Ehron Lee understood how easy it would be for her now. With Melinda weak and vulnerable, Abigail’s influence would be absolute.
    â€œC’mon, Burrows,” Buck Leighton said woodenly, no emotion, no expression, doing his job. “Gotta take yuh back to the jail ’til the wagon arrives.”
    Ehron Lee looked bewildered. “Melinda,” he muttered numbly. Then with more emphasis: “Can’t I say good-bye to my wife?”
    Buck gave his head a slow, regretful shake. “Don’t advise it, Burrows. We gotta get yuh ready. Don’t think you want your woman to be watchin’ that. ’Sides, you don’t got a whole lotta time.”
    Back at the jailhouse, Ehron Lee understood why the sheriff had discouraged him from seeing his wife. She would have watched the humiliating process of him being locked in shackles, a mandatory precaution for “condemned men” to prevent any attempt at escape along the trail.
    He would be the sole occupant of the prisoner wagon. He was about to begin his long journey to Hell’s Doorway, accompanied by the driver and a shotgun-carrying guard.
    He was locked inside the transport compartment: a cell on wheels, which was a primitive enclosure, surrounded by metal walls with two narrow windows, barred with rows of sturdy but weathered metal slats. Ehron Lee felt like a caged animal, and would feel even more like one as the wagon started its deliberately slow ride down the main street, where he was gawked at by citizens, as if he were some wild beast on exhibit. Many who had been at the trial were now sufficiently drunk to step from the saloon and shout cruel comments. He was further humiliated when some of the unruly boys of the town picked up chunks of hardened mud from the street and tossed them at the windows, jeering and taunting the prisoner.
    Ehron Lee didn’t even try to see if Melinda was among the onlookers. It would have been too much to bear.
    And for Melinda to see him now would be too much for her.
    But suddenly she was there, rushing through the crowd toward the wagon.
    She walked with quick strides to keep pace with the rolling wheels. She reached out and pressed her hand against the bars, tightly, desperately, as the prisoner wagon rolled down the street.
    Ehron Lee fought back his tears, though Melinda’s were flowing freely.
    â€œEhron Lee,” she said with a tremor in her voice, “this isn’t right. It isn’t fair. . . . Why couldn’t they see that?”
    â€œYou just stay strong, Melinda. I’ll be back,” he assured her staunchly, mustering as much conviction in his voice as he was able. “Just remember that. Trust me. I’ll be back.”
    He pressed his own hand against the bars, curling his fingers through the opening to