Chapter Eighteen
Still as mad as a sack full of snakes, Heath cast a sidelong glance at his sister who sat prim and proper on the wagon seat as they bumped along the trail rising to the rim. “Are you all right?”
Sally fidgeted with her worn skirt, keeping her eyes fixed on the horse’s rump. “I don’t know.”
“Why was Thacker kissing you?”
“The old buzzard lost his mind and was drunk. I was laying down the law to him one minute and the next he just hauled off and kissed me. Out of the blue. With no warning. I told him exactly what he could do with his kisses.” Fuming, she finally turned a miserable gaze on him. “I’m really worried about Rachel and Eden.”
“Me too.” His fear for them was much deeper than he let anyone know. Heath patted her hand. “Thacker rubbed me the wrong way from the start. There’s something about the man I don’t trust, and you’ll do well to keep your distance.”
“You needn’t fret about that.” Sally crossed her arms.
Noble Tucker, Yancy’s son, crossed Heath’s mind. Noble had lived and worked on Tillie’s parents’ ranch with his father. The man had asked for Sally’s hand in marriage, and they’d even set the date. An hour before the ceremony, Noble disappeared along with Skeet Slaughter’s daughter. It seemed Noble had gotten the young lady in the family way—while courting Sally. Heath and Yancy’s friendship had been strained ever since.
“It took forever for the wound in your heart to heal after Noble,” he reminded Sally.
“That was a long time ago, Heath. Sometimes I get so awfully lonely I can’t stand it.”
He reached to put an arm around her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
Sally sighed. “Sometimes it seems life has passed me by as if I’m no more consequence than a leaf blowing in the wind.” Her voice sounded sad and much older than her thirty-eight years. “I just want to know that I matter to someone before I die, that my life hasn’t been for naught.”
The section of the trail they came to had fall trees on both sides decked out in reds and yellows so beautiful they took his breath. He loved this land and the changing seasons.
After a moment, he dragged his attention back to the conversation and softened his voice. “You’re still a young woman, Sally. You matter to a lot of people. You matter to me. I don’t often say it, but I love you and I know Rachel and Eden cherish you.”
Sally straightened as though gearing for battle and inhaled. “I know.”
“We all need someone special,” Heath admitted softly, thinking of Rachel.
Sometimes the ache for her consumed him and he dreamed of the day he’d make her his.
Turning back to Sally, he said a silent prayer that God would protect his sister’s heart. He didn’t want to be the one picking up the pieces a second time.
A week later, Rachelhitched up the wagon and drove to Singer’s Trading Post to sell her eggs, butter, and goat cheese.
Enjoying the beautiful day, her mind flitted from one thing to another. Beside her on the seat was the wicker basket that held a sleeping Eden. She thought of Uncle Zeb and had caught glimpses of him down by the lake. So he hadn’t left as she’d prayed he would.
What was he hanging around for? Would he hurt her? She didn’t really know him.
Thoughts still circling like prancing horses, she pulled up to the post and set the brake. Climbing down, she tied the horse to the hitching rail and lifted the basket holding the baby. Movement drew her gaze.
Becca stepped through the open door and came to an abrupt stop at the sight of her.
Sudden panic gripped Rachel. She instantly clutched the basket, drawing it closer. Then she noticed the pain filling the girl’s brown eyes and forced a smile. “Hello, Becca, how nice to see you again.”
The girl still wore the same tattered clothes and her hair unwashed. Rachel wondered about the girl’s mother and why she didn’t take better care of her daughter. Still, if Becca had gotten herself in the family way, maybe her mother had disowned her and kicked her out to fend for herself.
Becca kept her eyes down for the most part, glancing only briefly at the basket that held Rachel’s heart.
“Do you like babies, Becca?” she asked softly.
The girl nodded shyly.
“I do too. It was awfully nice of you to give Eden the blue ribbon when you came visiting. Do you live around here?”
Before the girl could answer a group of rough-looking men rode up to the post making the hair on her neck rise. An uneasy feeling washed over Rachel as well as memories of her abductors. One of the riders with an ugly scar across his face leaned an elbow on his saddle horn and boldly stared. He rode a beautiful piebald. Much too nice a horse for the likes of him.
They might be the same ones she’d found Zeb talking to but couldn’t be sure.
When she turned back to Becca, the girl had vanished just like before.
Rachel clutched Eden and tried to shake off her jangled nerves. She wished for nothing more than to climb into the wagon, race for home, and hide in the safety of her house.
“I think you scared her staring like that, Billy,” a rider with a red bandana said.
She wanted to bolt to her wagon, but chances were they’d only chase her. Ignoring them, she hurried inside in a flurry of skirts as they whirled around her ankles.
“Well, let me see that little darlin’,” George Singer hollered when he saw her. He clucked over Eden declaring, “She’s sure growing. Next thing I know she’ll be walking and talking and giving me what-for.”
Rachel took a deep breath to still her terror. “That she will, Mr. Singer.”
“I hope you brought some eggs and such-like because I can sure sell ’em.”
“Sure did. They’re out in the wagon.”
“I hope you have more zucchini bread. Folks from all around clamor for it.”
“Sorry, sir. The crop is gone.”
Footsteps sounded on the rough wooden floor. Rachel turned and her breath froze. The riders strolled inside like they owned it. Singer glanced up. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”
“We’d be obliged if you’d wait on us now,” said the one with the scar they’d called Billy. All three of the men formed a circle around Rachel, Eden, and Singer. Rachel kept her gaze lowered.
Singer put himself in front of her. “You’ll have to wait your turn I’m afraid.”
Rachel laid a hand on Singer’s arm. “Please, go ahead and take care of them. Eden and I are in no hurry.”
George sighed and turned. “What will it be?”
“Need some ammunition, coffee, and tobacco,” snapped Billy. “And don’t dawdle. We ain’t used to waiting.”
While George set about filling their order, Rachel got the eggs, butter, and goat cheese from the wagon. Since she couldn’t very well carry Eden and everything else, she left the baby on the counter in her basket with Singer guarding her. It killed her to leave Eden and she wished she hadn’t left Jax tied up at home. Jax could intimidate people who didn’t know him.
As much as she loathed Eden being out of her sight for a minute or two, she knew George would protect the child he doted on with his life. Trembling with fear, Rachel wasted no time in returning. Blood chilled in her veins to see the man wearing a red bandana bending over Eden’s basket.
“Get away from her!” She set the basket of goods on the floor and quickly lifted Eden.
A plug of chewing tobacco bulged out one side of the man’s cheeks and he aimed a stream of brown juice toward a spittoon on the floor. It didn’t quite make it, leaving a big glob on the wooden floor. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and snarled, “That baby belong to you, girlie?”
Singer put an arm around Rachel. “Gentlemen, I don’t allow trouble.”
“Now, ain’t that just too bad?” Billy stuck a knife into a bag of sugar and watched it pour out.
Intent on escape, Rachel inched toward the open door.
Two riders blocked her way. “We didn’t tell you to hightail it out of here, girlie.”
Scarface snarled, “She ain’t very hospitable. What’s your name, girl?”
“Rachel,” she said quietly, clutching Eden tight. Her legs shook, barely holding her up.
“Well, Rachel, how about we have us a little fun?” Billy lifted a tendril of her hair between his fingers and put it to his nose. “Whoo-ee! That smells right sweet.”
Suddenly a tall shadow blocked the sunlight streaming through the open doorway. “Leave her be,” a steely voice barked.
Rachel looked up at the tall commanding figure and breathed a sigh of relief.
Heath Lassiter.
“Who are you to give orders?” Scarface asked.
“I’m going to be your worst nightmare if you don’t move aside and let the lady pass.” He pointed his rifle at the trio. “Now.”
“Maybe we best go,” said another, casting a nervous glance at Heath.
“That would be a wise decision.” Though Heath’s voice was silky smooth, a deadly force lay beneath the surface. He took a few steps inside. “Rachel, are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She tried to keep the tremble from her voice but didn’t quite succeed.
“Get behind me,” he ordered quietly.
She squeezed around the man blocking her path and found safety behind Heath, praying the men would leave and he wouldn’t get hurt. She didn’t know what she’d do if the men turned the tables. The realization hit her that Heath had come to mean so much to her.
“Here’s the way this is going to go, gentlemen,” Heath said. “You’re walking out of here and going to keep on riding. Don’t know what rock you crawled out from under, but you’d best go back to it. And if I catch you near this trading post again, I’ll give you reason to regret it.”
The red bandana rider swallowed hard. “We was only funnin’. Didn’t mean no harm.”
“That’s not what it looked like to me,” Heath replied. “I oughta shoot you for being so darn ugly if for no other reason.”
“Come on.” Billy motioned to his companions. “Let’s go.”
“Excellent choice, gentlemen,” Heath said keeping the rifle on them until they were out of the trading post. A minute later the sound of galloping horses reached them.
Heath turned to her. “You sure you’re all right, Rachel?”
“I’m fine. I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to see anyone in my life though. Those men terrified me.” She didn’t object when he put down his rifle and tenderly took Eden from her. She had to find a place to sit down and fast.
George Singer obviously saw her need and rushed forward. After helping her to an upended barrel, he left to get her a drink of water from the well in front.
Heath stood beside her with his feet planted as tall and strong as an oak tree. “What were you doing coming here by yourself? Where’s Thacker?”
Rachel took a cup of water from George and sipped on it. “I kicked him out and I had to get these things to Mr. Singer.” She pointed to the basket of goods still sitting on the floor. “I forgot the rifle and I should’ve brought Jax. I’m going to have to do better.”
“You will. I’m glad Thacker’s gone but it sure throws you in a bind. Did you recognize any of those men from the riders you caught Zeb talking to?”
Rachel pushed her hair back with hands that still trembled. “Maybe but I’m not sure.”
George took a deep breath. “Lassiter, I have to say you arrived in the nick of time I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t. I’m truly in your debt.”
“Best keep a rifle handy, George.”
“I have one behind the counter, ’cept I couldn’t get to it.” Mr. Singer wagged his head. “I’ve seldom had call to use it. Everyone trading here is a peaceable sort. Who do you think they were?”
Heath’s jaw clenched. “Don’t know. But they’d better pass on through.” His deep voice vibrated the air.
Steel laced his words and Rachel was glad she wasn’t on the receiving end of his anger. She’d never seen this side of Heath. One thing she’d learned and that was he’d defend her and Eden with his life if that was what it took to keep them safe.
She’d never felt so protected. Not once. Closing her eyes, she smiled.