Journey to Hope Read online

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Epilogue

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  A Total-E-Bound Publication

  www.total-e-bound.com

  Journey to Hope

  ISBN # 978-1-78184-473-1

  ©Copyright J.P. Bowie 2013

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright September 2013

  Edited by Sue Meadows

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2013 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 2.

  This story contains 84 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 7 pages.

  JOURNEY TO HOPE

  J.P. Bowie

  An ex-con finds a new life and love in a place called Hope.

  Brett Langley’s friends are worried that he’s made a big, big mistake in hiring a new man to help run Hope Ranch. Joel Harper, the local sheriff, is especially concerned as he’s been notified by the authorities that the man has only recently been released from Wyoming State Penitentiary.

  Josh Kenyon has spent eight years behind bars for a crime he says he didn’t commit, and that he was framed for. Brett believes him, and when the feelings they have for one another become much more than mere attraction, he is determined to find someone who can prove Josh’s innocence.

  But his good intentions cause unforeseen chaos when a man from Josh’s past arrives with only one thing in mind—silencing Josh forever.

  Dedication

  For my loyal readers, the owners and staff at Total-E-Bound, for all those who love a story of redemption—and for Phil for his understanding and patience

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Bonanza: CBS Television Distribution

  Johnnie Walker: Diageo

  Chevy: General Motors Company

  Chapter One

  Josh Kenyon pulled his truck off the road and stepped out of the cab to look at the small spread in the valley below him. He hoped to find some kind of job there. It had been a long haul from Cheyenne, Wyoming to Sacramento, California. He was tired, a mite cranky and his neck was stiff from sleeping in his truck for three nights.

  He’d stopped in the small town of Denton, outside Sacramento. In the general store there he’d got himself a soda and a burger, and just by chance had noticed the small postcard pinned to a bulletin board.

  General help needed on small horse ranch. Experience good, but will train if necessary. Housing provided. Call Brett at 916-555-2525.

  He’d written down the number and called as soon as he’d finished scarfing down his burger. The guy, Brett, had answered, sounding friendly and, if Josh wasn’t mistaken, kind of anxious to find some help fast. After getting directions to the ranch from Denton, Josh had told the rancher he could be there in about twenty minutes.

  He wondered if the friendliness in Brett’s voice would fade when Josh informed him of his past. He’d come this far in the hope of escaping his tainted reputation that had branded him as undesirable—and unhireable. Well, this would be the first test of whether he’d made the right decision to come all the way to California.

  Looking down on the ranch, Josh could see one man, followed by a tail-wagging dog, walking towards a large outbuilding. Looks so peaceful, Josh thought, scanning the perimeter to see where the other men were working. Surely he can’t be alone down there? Josh didn’t know a whole lot about ranching, but he was willing to learn. He could ride a horse, back in the day, and the ad had said ‘will train if necessary’.

  “So, let’s go,” he said aloud, climbing back into his truck. “Let’s see if Josh Kenyon’s luck can ever change for the better.” With a determined set to his jaw, he started the engine and pulled back onto the narrow road that led to the ranch gates—and maybe, just maybe, if he could fit in here, something to live for.

  His heart lifted as he read the name inscribed over the arch he passed under—Hope Ranch.

  Brett Langley straightened his aching back, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and took a break from mucking out the stables. The horses would be bedded down shortly and they needed fresh straw. He glanced at his watch. That Josh guy had called about ten minutes ago, so if he hadn’t got lost he should be here any time now. He hoped the man was someone who would work out this time.

  He had owned Hope Ranch since his dad died a year ago—a year that had seen its heartaches, headaches and was still on the ‘iffy’ side financially. Two of his hands had left him recently. One he’d been glad to see the back of, but the other, Al, he’d had high hopes for as foreman. Al had worked the ranch for two years then left to go to college. Brett couldn’t blame him for that, but suddenly he was without a young and willing worker, saddled instead with a string of guys who just couldn’t hack the long hours and less than competitive pay. Not that he could blame them either, but he really needed someone to help pick up the slack— slack that’s getting bigger and harder to deal with every day.

  Chuckling at that last thought, he couldn’t deny he liked big and hard, just not the kind he’d been faced with for months now. He wondered what Josh would be like. Nice voice, kinda deep and mellow. Older maybe? He glanced at his watch again. Better get on with it… He raked the combination of old straw and manure to a pile outside the stables, then began pushing it all towards the compost heap he’d built well away from the house.

  “That should do it,” he said, turning to look at Jaz, his border collie, as if for approval. Jaz’s tail was working even harder than usual at wagging as the dog stared past Brett at something in the yard behind him.

  “Hi, there.” The deep voice startled him. He hadn’t heard the guy drive up. “Can I help you with that?”

  “Oh, hi…” Brett threw the pitchfork to one side and walked towards the man. “Josh?”

  “Right.”

  “I’d offer to shake hands,” Brett said, “but I’m kinda dirty right now.” He grinned at Josh, at the same time taking in his rugged good looks, the broad-shouldered physique and the blue eyes gazing at him steadily from under dark, feathered brows. The voice definitely matched the man. “I just have to lay down the fresh straw and I’ll be r
ight with you.”

  “Well, like I said…” Josh tipped his hat back, revealing dark curly hair. “Can I help you with that?”

  “Sure. If you’d just grab those bales off the back of my pickup, we’ll get it done in no time, then we can talk.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Oh, this is Jaz, by the way,” Brett said, grinning. “Don’t let his over-friendliness fool you. He’s really a killer watchdog.”

  Josh chuckled. “I can see that.” He bent to fondle the collie’s ears. “A real killer,” he added as Jaz pushed his head into Josh’s fingers for more.

  Brett watched Josh stride over to the pickup and lift the first bale with ease. Brett admired the man’s tapered back that led to a narrow waist. The close-fitting jeans he wore accentuated his muscular butt and thighs.

  Nice. A tight knot of heat centred itself under his balls. “Uh, just throw them down here, and if you want to help you can grab that pitchfork by the door and lay out some in each stall.” He was aware that Josh was watching him tackle the first stall then he dug the pitchfork into the bale and threw the straw into the second stall.

  “Done this before?” he asked.

  “No, to be honest I haven’t,” Josh replied, raking the straw over with the tines on the pitchfork. “The only experience I have was when my dad would take me to my uncle’s farm and we’d bring in the cows and stuff. It was just like playtime for me, but I learned to ride.” He added quickly, “I’m a fast study, and I don’t mind hard work.”

  “Good assets,” Brett said, grinning. They worked mostly in silence until all ten stalls had been done then Brett said, “Let’s go up to the house. I need to clean up a bit, then we can talk.”

  They walked side by side to the house, Jaz—tail still wagging—following close behind them. Brett stopped on the porch and sat down to take his boots off. “Mrs Thomason comes once a week to clean the house. One of her rules is ‘no boots inside’. I go along with it for the sake of peace and quiet.”

  “Oh, okay.” Josh sat and removed his boots. “Don’t want to upset the lady.”

  “That’s been my policy,” Brett said with a chuckle. They stood and went inside.

  Josh looked around and liked what he saw. A spacious living room, modestly but comfortably furnished with large windows at one end giving him a view of the pine forest at the edge of Brett’s acreage.

  “Nice,” he murmured.

  “Like some coffee?” Brett asked. “Kitchen’s through here.”

  “Sounds good.” He followed Brett into the kitchen and watched him putter with the coffee pot and water. He also liked what he saw in front of him. Brett was a cute guy, slimly built, not quite as tall as Josh, with light brown hair cut short and green eyes. His body was lithe and compact and his rolled-up shirt sleeves exposed arms that looked strong and capable.

  “I like the name you gave your ranch,” Josh said.

  “Hope?” Brett smiled. “It was my mom’s name. Dad renamed the ranch after she died. Used to be called the Double L.”

  “I like Hope better…” Maybe it’s a sign I came to the right place…maybe.

  “So where are you from, Josh?” Brett asked, taking two mugs from one of the cabinets and setting them on the counter.

  “Riverdale, Wyoming.”

  “Not familiar with that name.”

  “It’s a few miles from Cheyenne. Kind of a suburb really.”

  “Ah. So what brings you all the way out here?”

  “I…uh, wanted a fresh start. California seemed like a good place to try.”

  “Well, I can offer you that at least.” Brett smiled at him, and Josh felt a quiet relief on realising the guy was going to give him the job. “As you could probably tell, it’s small as ranches go. I got a hundred acres here, some of it pasture, ten horses, one ready to foal. I also have chickens to supplement my income by selling the eggs to a couple of local stores, and I grow organic vegetables.”

  “How the heck d’you manage all that on your own?” Josh asked with a mixture of doubt and admiration.

  “I’ve only been on my own for a few weeks. My dad died a year ago…”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Brett nodded, acknowledging Josh’s sympathy. “Al, the guy my dad hired, left a while back. He was a pretty good worker, but since then I haven’t had much luck with the help I’ve taken on. Most kids just don’t like the long hours, and it’s pretty back-breaking work at times.”

  “I don’t mind hard work,” Josh said.

  “That’s good, but I’m afraid the money’s not the greatest, only twelve bucks an hour—but you’ll have a free room, and we can split the food expenses.”

  Josh sighed and did a quick mental dollar calculation. He figured the ranch required at least a ten-hour day, six to seven days a week. So this could be his fresh start. He could work with this man, build a new life, put some money aside—maybe even find in Brett someone who could become a friend, someone he could trust. But before any of that could happen, he had to come clean. There was no way he’d be able to hide the fact he had to pay a weekly visit to his assigned parole officer in Sacramento. And besides that, he didn’t want to start out here by lying to the guy who had just offered him something he desperately needed.

  “Before we shake on this,” Josh said slowly, “there’s something you should know ’bout me.”

  Brett picked up the coffee pot and poured the dark brew into the two mugs he’d set on the counter. Josh could see just a trace of wariness in Brett’s eyes as he looked up when he’d finished pouring and asked, “Black?”

  “Yeah, that’s good, no sugar.”

  Brett nodded. “So, what do I have to know?”

  Josh took a long sip of the hot coffee, savouring the strong taste, so much better than the dreck he’d had to get used to over the years. Then he put the mug down and took a deep breath. This might just be the deal-breaker…

  “I’ve been in Wyoming State Penitentiary for the past seven years and before that a year awaiting trial without bail.”

  Brett drew in a sharp breath. “What for?”

  “Something I didn’t do.”

  “And what was that exactly?”

  “Armed robbery of a convenience store in Riverdale, the town I lived in. The guy behind the counter was shot and killed. I was arrested.”

  “But if you didn’t do it…?”

  “I was a damned fool. I picked up the gun one of the murderers dropped before they split. I ran after them, out into the street. People had heard the shot, saw me carrying the gun, started yelling and screaming. I tried to explain, but no one listened. Two guys jumped me, held me down till the police arrived. They went in the store, found Carl lying there…”

  “You knew him?”

  “Yeah. Carl was the sheriff’s son. We went to high school together. We weren’t really close friends, but we’d hang out occasionally.” Josh paused and shrugged his shoulders slightly. “Look, I know this isn’t what you expected to hear from a potential employee, but I swear to you, I didn’t do it.”

  Brett nodded, but looked away from Josh’s intense gaze. “Yet a jury obviously thought you did.”

  “The jury was rigged.” There was real bitterness in Josh’s voice now. “Sheriff Potts wanted someone convicted for his son’s death. I was sure he believed me in the beginning—what reason did I have to rob and kill Carl? I’d never been in any trouble before. I told him I was at the back of the store when the guys came in. I heard Carl arguing with them and I ran down the aisle to see if he was okay. When I rounded the corner there were two guys wearing hoodies, guns pointed at Carl, demanding money.

  “I yelled at them, one of them turned and aimed his gun at me but Carl jumped over the counter and…and the gun went off. Carl went down…the other guy took a shot at me and missed. Then they were out the door. I really thought that his dad believed me, but when they didn’t find the two who’d done it, he had me charged and held for trial.

  “I was positive th
at when they saw the store surveillance camera records it would be obvious I had nothing to do with it, but it turned out the camera wasn’t working properly. The recording was so blurry it was impossible to tell what had happened. One of the two guys who’d pinned me down before the police got there swore on the Bible I’d said to him I did it. The other guy said he wasn’t rightly sure what I’d said, but that sounded right. It took the jury less than an hour to convict me, and recommended I got life.”

  “No one stood up for you?”

  “Oh, yeah, my dad and a friend said I couldn’t have done it. All they could get out of them was that I had a bit of a temper, and the DA used that as a sign I was capable of shooting someone. It didn’t really matter.” Josh sighed, the pain of remembering still uncomfortably vivid in his mind.

  “The jury had been told what to do. They said they wanted me locked up for good. Fortunately, the judge wasn’t in the sheriff’s pocket. He started off by admonishing the attorney that the state had appointed to defend me, citing the fact I had no priors, that the evidence was circumstantial at best and there were two sets of prints on the gun. But he couldn’t set aside the jury’s guilty verdict. He gave me the minimum sentence—ten years. I got out in seven for good behaviour, even though two or three of the guards did their level best to make it hard for me.

  “Sheriff Potts was determined I’d serve the full term, and add a few years if he could just get me to lose it when the guards humiliated me. But I knew what was happening, and I just gritted my teeth and did whatever they demanded. A couple of times I came close to punching their lights out, but I learned to control myself. No way was I going to spend the rest of my life in that prison.”

  Brett met Josh’s eyes and nodded again. “I can understand that.” His gaze went to Jaz who was now leaning against Josh’s leg. “Looks like Jaz can too. Okay, Josh, can you start right away?”

  “You mean it?”

  “Yeah. I’m a big believer in starting over. You paid your dues and as long as you don’t screw up here, I’m good with that.” He held out his hand. “Shake?”