Chapter 18
18
A yawn stretched Leah’s jaw as she fastened the last button at her neck. It was nice to have her bed back in her private room, across the hall from Miriam’s. She could almost hear the coffee calling from the kitchen, and for once she wished she’d not requested to take over breakfast duties. It would be nice to walk into the kitchen and smell the coffee already brewing, ham sizzling on the stove, and buttermilk biscuits rising in the oven. Well, the least she could do was have all those good smells ready when Miriam and Gideon came in from their chores.
She reached for the crutch and thumped her way into the main room of the cabin. Her right arm was thankful she only needed a single crutch these days.
By the time she had the biscuits in the oven and her first pan of ham sizzling on the stove, Miriam fluttered through the front door.
“G’morning.” Miriam set the bucket of milk and a basket on the table. “I think one of the hens is setting now, so we’ll have some biddies in a few weeks.”
Leah reached for the basket, and Miriam passed it to her. “Biddies?”
“Baby chicks.” Miriam hoisted the bucket of milk and moved over to the work table. “While I get this milk strained, can you fry up extra ham for lunch? Gideon and I will be out with the cattle today.”
“Of course.” Leah shifted her things to make room for Miriam. “Are you doing something special with them?”
Miriam shot her a rueful look. “It’s branding time. Gideon hired a boy from one of the other ranches to help us.”
“Branding time?”
“Yes, I hate this part. We catch all the new calves and put our brand on them so folks know which ranch they belong to.”
“That sounds like work, but not so bad.”
Miriam wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t tell you how we put our brand on them. The boys have a metal poker in the shape of our brand. They heat it real hot over a fire, then press it into the cow’s hide.” She shivered, distaste souring her expression. “It’s hard to watch and smells awful.”
Leah felt the blood leave her face as she listened to the description. “That does sound terrible.”
The sound of the door opening interrupted their conversation. Miriam called out her usual welcome. “Hey, big brother.”
Leah turned to offer her own greeting, but froze at the sight before her. Gideon had just turned from the hat rack and was moving toward his chair at the table.
At least, she thought it was Gideon. The man before her had the same tall, muscled frame and the same piercing green eyes. But his face did not wear the mountain man beard she’d become so accustomed to. He was clean-shaven, with a square jaw, and his chiseled features intensified the emerald of his eyes.
A jab in her ribs pulled Leah’s attention from him, and she turned to find Miriam covering a snicker. In fact, her own jaw was hanging slack. She snapped it closed and turned toward the skillet of ham, mortification floating up her neck. Lord, don’t let Gideon have seen me gawking .
As she forked the fried ham onto a plate and placed freshly sliced chunks in the pan, the image of Gideon slipped back into her mind. Nice features was an understatement. Without the bushy beard, his face came alive. If only the picture of him in her memory was sharper.
Throughout breakfast, she had trouble focusing on Miriam’s usual chatter. She stole regular glances at Gideon, taking in the finer details of his features. His jaw was square but his chin came to a strong point. His skin held a distinct difference in color between the tan around his eyes and the creamier shade of his lower face and neck. Her fingers itched to stroke his cheeks and see if there was a difference in the texture of the two colors.
But when she glanced at him and found his piercing gaze watching her, she dropped her focus and pushed away from the table. “More coffee, anyone?”
She slipped the crutch under her arm and hobbled to the stove, returning with the coffee pot and making sure to keep her gaze far away from Gideon’s face.
“Thanks, Leah, but I could have got that for you.” Miriam offered a sweet smile as she refilled the cup in front of her.
“It’s no problem.”
When she turned to pour the hot liquid in Gideon’s cup, he placed a hand on top. “None for me. Gotta head out.” He wiped his mouth and rose from the chair. She couldn’t stop her gaze from rising with him. “Miri, make sure you bring a rifle. I’ll pick up Jim and meet you at the overlook.”
When the cabin door closed and the latch clicked, a giggle sounded behind her. She turned to find laughter dancing across Miriam’s face. “What’s so funny?”
“He looks a lot better with a shave, doesn’t he?”
Leah shot her a disapproving look to stop any further teasing. She stacked dishes from the table while Miriam carried them over to the wash bucket.
“I’m still waiting for an answer, Leah, dear.”
Leah found her most innocent voice. “And what was the question again?”
“He looks a lot better with a shave, doesn’t he? Gideon shaves about once a year when summer starts to get hot. I tell him every year he should get rid of that beard for good, but he won’t listen.” Her voice took on a suggestive tone. “Maybe he needs to hear it from someone other than me.”
“Well it’s certainly none of my concern.” Hopefully, she didn’t sound like she was trying to convince herself. It was definitely time to change the subject. “Miriam, would you mind if I come out to watch you saddle your horse? I’d like to learn how.”
Miriam’s head snapped up from where she scraped a plate over the compost bucket. “You don’t know how to saddle a horse?”
Leah shrugged. “The groom always cared for my mare in Richmond. No one ever showed me to do it myself. Ol’ Mose taught me how to harness his mules, but that’s all I know.”
Miriam gave her a sympathetic look. “You poor dear. We’ll have to fix that now.”
Leah wiped the already-clean counter, just in case dust had settled when she’d loaded wood into the cook stove. She glanced around for something else that needed doing, but couldn’t find a thing. She sighed.
She’d been alone at the ranch all day, and had cleaned the cabin, forked hay into the empty stalls, picked vegetables from the garden, prepared beef crepes to fry for dinner, and made cinnamon rolls with sweet cream for dessert. The spicy aroma had toyed with her for the last hour, making her restlessness all the worse.
She glanced out the window to gauge how far past noon the sun had moved. Miriam hadn’t said anything about them being out after dark, although Leah really didn’t know what would be involved with branding. Lord, please don’t let them be late .
Maybe now would be a good opportunity to catch-up on her journal writing. She usually tried to write weekly, logging the recent happenings and her thoughts about them. She grabbed her crutch and headed toward her room.
No sooner had she settled herself on her bed with the book and her fountain pen, splinted leg propped on the quilt, than a strange noise drifted from outside. It sounded almost like a flock of birds, or maybe the chickens. She placed her splinted leg on the floor, grabbed her crutch, and hobbled as quickly as she could out the front door.
The noise was definitely coming from the little shed that held the chickens, and stray feathers drifted through the cracks in the boards. What was in there? A fox? Her crutch would come in handy to scare it off.
The door was unlatched when she arrived, so she jerked it open and charged in, scanning the ground for a wiry red pest. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, her breath froze.
A man stood before her, knife poised over his head like an ancient warrior about to throw a javelin.
The glint in his eye and the leer on his face paralyzed her.
While the chickens squawked about in terror, the man advanced toward her, knife raised in attack position. The blade glittered in the sunlight filtering through cracks in the boards. He looked old enough to be her grandfather, with a scruffy beard, dirty clothes, and a floppy hat.
He spoke in a throaty growl. “Hold on there, missy. Looks like I found someone to cook my supper fer me.”
Leah didn’t move. What did he have planned? Her mind scrambled to find a way out of this. Away from this man. Could she lock him in the chicken coop and run for help?
He was close enough now to touch her, and he rested the tip of his knife at the base of her throat. She didn’t breathe, but the sharp metal burned against her skin.
He snickered. “Where’s yer menfolk?”
“Will…be…back.” She put great effort into not moving her throat as she spoke each word, so they came out in a hoarse whisper. He never lifted the point of the knife from her neck, and the sting grew sharper.
“I reckon you’ll have time to fix me supper then, won’t you, darlin’?” When he spoke the last word, he reached behind her and patted her bottom.
Cold, steely fire flooded Leah’s veins. If he didn’t have a knife sticking in her neck, she would have taken him apart one joint at a time, right there in the chicken shed. No man had ever touched her in such a place, and this dirty vagabond was the last man she’d allow the right.
He seemed to sense her hatred, because his smirk dried up. His voice was rough when he spoke again. “Get on with ya and fix me some food. But jest know me and my knife’ll be with ya each step o’ the way.”
He pulled the blade away from her throat, but kept it hovering in front of himself like a barrier.
Leah turned away from the man and limped toward the house, as much to regroup her thoughts as to obey his demands. Who was he? Had Simon sent him? He didn’t look like a man her ex-fiancé would do business with, but could he be a hired kidnapper?
What was she going to do? It would be hours before Gideon returned. What weapons could be in the cabin? Gideon and Miriam had the only rifles she knew of. They did have a kitchen knife, but it was due a sharpening. Unless she could get the drop on this man, that blunted metal would be no match to his razor-sharp blade.
If he wanted her to cook for him, was there a way she could poison him? That idea seemed promising, but she had no idea how to accomplish it any better than feeding him undercooked meat. And he’d surely notice that.
Maybe she could get him near the fireplace and push him into the flame. Not to kill him, just injure him long enough for her to get the upper hand. She’d have to watch for an opportunity.
Inside the cabin, Leah stoked the fire in the cook stove, then heated grease in the frying pan for the beef crepes. While she worked, her assailant leaned against the wall in the little kitchen, his white knuckles revealing a firm grip on the long knife.
God, I really need you now. She sent up a steady prayer as she cooked. After a few minutes, the man seemed satisfied she wasn’t hiding a gun in one of the potato barrels, and meandered to sit in a kitchen chair.
She moistened her lips. She needed to know if this man was in Simon’s employ, or if he was just a good-for-nothing scoundrel.
She tried to keep her voice casual yet firm. “My family will be back any minute.” Despite her effort, the words quivered a bit. And he didn’t need to know Gideon and Miriam weren’t exactly family.
He gave her an evil smirk. “You better get cookin’ faster then, sweetheart, so I can eat up and have some fun before I’m on my way.”
A shudder slid through Leah. But as she worked, she studied his words. It sounded like he was only a vagabond, planning to be off as soon as he’d gotten whatever he could from this place. She steeled her determination. She’d feed him because she had to. But she’d die before she let him do anything more than eat food. Lord, please help.
When the crepes were ready, she placed two on a plate and slid it to him. She kept her distance, watching for an escape. After he’d eaten two servings, the man sat back and rubbed his hand over the tattered shirt that almost covered his belly. “I hope you’re as good at other things as ye are at cookin’.”
Leah inhaled, preparing herself for the next distraction. She pulled the tray of cinnamon rolls from where they’d been warming beside the stove. “Would you like something sweet to finish with?” She forced sugar into her tone, so he wouldn’t suspect anything more than Southern hospitality.
His eyes shrank into a greedy squint. She forked three rolls onto a plate, then carried the dish close enough to slide it toward him, staying well out of his reach.
He scarfed the food, licking his grubby fingers but leaving a sticky mess in his beard. Her middle churned at the disgusting sight, and she turned away to keep her composure.
“More coffee,” he barked.
Using her apron to protect her hand from the hot handle of the coffee pot, she limped toward the table and filled his empty mug with the brew.
Before she knew what was happening, he grabbed her right arm and jerked. The force knocked the coffee pot from her hand, sending it flying across the table.
Her weak leg couldn’t support her resistance, and she landed in the blackguard’s lap. Oh, God, please!