A Ransomed Heart Page 6

  Annabelle hoped so. Maybe Mama would make them take her back that night, she could feel the aching in her body and then wondered if maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay in one place for the rest of the evening. She did, however, want to witness that lashing; it would be therapeutic to watch Logan get a little of his own back at him. Maybe she would offer a few of her own words. Draining the cup she ate the bread hungrily, it had been a long morning and breakfast had not lasted long.

  Mama had stood and drained the bowl out the window. She looked carefully at the young woman who sat at her table. The girl was young, not like what the boys had talked about. She was clearly distraught, and Mama wasn’t going to put up with them roughing her around anymore. She was going to clear this up before supper time. Now that she had made up her mind she squared her shoulders and turned her attention to dinner and her guest. She sent her little charge off to her room and told her to rest on the bed for a time, dinner would be ready soon.

  Annabelle was so grateful the tears welled back up. Mama patted her on the back and told her everything was going to be just fine. The bed was soft and the warm hand sewn quilt was welcoming. She sat on the bed and unlaced her shoes slipping them off along with her stockings. The wood floor felt cool and she shivered a bit from the change in temperature. Her sunburn didn’t help and she eased herself down onto the bed and rolled up in the quilt. Before she could hardly think, she was asleep.

  It was late afternoon when she opened her eyes. The room was darker and she looked around trying to recognize something. Out in the living area she heard voices talking in a whisper. Then she remembered she was at Mrs. Kittlinger’s home. The voices changed and it sounded vaguely like an argument. She listened closer and recognized Mama’s soft musical voice and Logan’s rough baritone. He was upset, she could tell, and she wondered what had happened while she slept. He was arguing his point now and she sat up and leaned forward so she could hear better.

  “I’m not taking her anywhere this evening. I gave Sevier a week to get the money together and I’m not returning her until I get it.”

  “Logan this obsession with Robert has gotten out of hand. You don’t just take a person out of their life and force another person to pay for their return. I’m very disappointed with you.”

  “I don’t know why, we have all been hurt by the man, we all agreed something needed to change, I just went out and made it change.”

  “By hurting a young woman and taken’ her away from her husband.”

  “He isn’t her husband!” His voice was stiff and unpleasant. “Plus I didn’t hurt her, she hit her head. When I asked her about it she said she was fine.”

  “Come on Logan, you aren’t blind, she was hurt and afraid and you just hauled her around like one of those horses of yours. People have feelings you know, not everyone is bad.”

  Everything was silent for a moment so Annabelle quietly eased herself over the side of the bed her bare feet touching noiselessly to the floor. Her heart had dropped to her stomach when it dawned on her she would be stuck here for a whole week. Even the stress of the realization didn’t change the fact she was riveted by the conversation. She could imagine Logan’s tall imposing frame filling the space in the little cabin. Curiosity got the best of her and she wondered what was happening outside her view. She had nearly made it to the door when Mama spoke again.

  “Honey, eventually you’re going to need to put this behind you. You’re young and healthy, you can’t let this cripple you and make you like the man you hate so much.”

  He only grunted.

  “There is something else isn’t there? What is it, Logan?” Mama’s voice was sweet and motherly.

  Annabelle leaned even closer to the door, her dress pulling against her body as it remained entangled in the quilt.

  “She’s just so, so…”

  At that moment the quilt slipped off the bed and dropped heavily to the floor. She winced at the sound and scampered back into the bed pulling her dress up around her along with a single corner of the blanket. She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. A chair slid across the floor and she heard footsteps head in the direction of the room. They halted in the doorway for a second and then she heard Mama whisper back towards Logan.

  “The blanket fell of the bed. You go tell Kit to wash up and I am going to wake her. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.”

  Another chair moved and the door opened and shut. Mrs. Kittlinger came softly into the room and touched her gently on the shoulder. “Sweet pea, it’s time for dinner. “

  Annabelle stirred and opened her eyes. “Thank you for waking me, Mrs. Kittlinger.” The woman just smiled sweetly and then left through the open door; she heard the banging of dishes and the sounds of supper time. She sat confused on the bed. Had they been talking about the same Robert Sevier she knew? Why did Logan hate him so much? As she straightened her dress and headed out of the room his voice caught in her head, “She’s just so…” So what?

  Chapter 7

  The room was silent except for the tinkling of ice in his glass. The drink was hot and stung his throat only souring his mood. Robert Sevier sat in a hunter green plush arm chair in the sitting room. The room was darkening with the setting sun but he did nothing to remedy the situation. The atmosphere mirrored his own mood, dark. He nursed the drink again and swallowed hard, it was his third for the night and the bottle next to him was dangerously low. It had seemed he had been wandering in a fog for the past few days and now the alcohol had stiffened up the image in his mind nicely. He slammed the cup down on the table next to him dislodging an ice cube and it skittered across the floor. Paying no attention he got up and paced in front of the pane glass windows lining the front of his opulent home.

  Robert was accustomed to getting what he wanted. He asked no questions when it came to making sure he was comfortable in every aspect. That had not always been the case hence the need for his vigilance now. The liquid courage was seeping into the cracks of his thoughts and he could feel his mind loosen and totter back to the past. It was hard to tell the difference sometimes, from the past and the present because so much of it had been painful. He placed his head against one of the cool panes of glass and closed his eyes. Letting the memories pour over him.

  Perhaps the most painful was the blue eyes which haunted him nearly every day. She had won him over with those eyes. There was so much depth in them, and kindness and joy. He was young and careless, thinking he could give her everything she wanted. Instead all he did was hurt her and ruin her chances in life. He had led with his heart and it had turned against him. The second time he did such a foolish thing he lost again, two precious things in his life, both gone. Of course there was always the boy, and the boy would surely haunt Robert forever.

  He pushed off the glass and spun around anger in his eyes.

  “Mousse! Mousse!” he yelled, his voice piercing the silence of the room.

  He would not make another mistake, not now, he had learned too much and gained so much.

  “Mousse!” His voice roared though the house.

  Somewhere down the hall a door opened. Jean Mousse crept down the hall in his night dress, his thin hair a tangled mass on top of his head.

  “Yes?”

  The room was spinning and Robert grasped the window sill.

  “We’ll not pay the ransom. The girl is mine, and I’m going to take her back. Round up the men, I have a plan!”

  Mousse’s eyes widened in surprise then a wicked smile came across his face. His friend was back.

  “Now!” Mr. Sevier growled.

  Mousse hurried across the room and opened the door, heading for the bunk house. Within the hour a rider would be gone taking the message to those who needed it.

  Suddenly Robert was exhausted. He scuffled over and slumped down in the chair rubbing his face with his hands. Wearily his hand found the nearly empty bottle and poured the remainder of the contents in his cup. The ice had melted and watered down the liquor a bit. It didn’
t burn as badly this time, but it didn’t matter, he gasped and let the warm liquid slip down into his belly. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. His blond head bobbed a bit and his chin rested against his chest. All he could see in his mind were blue eyes, those of a beautiful woman, and her blue-eyed little boy.

  Chapter 8

  Annabelle had quickly moved to helping Mama set the table and get the food on. It felt good to be doing something productive and it helped to ease her anxiety. It also made her think about her family and how they needed her at this time. It was frustrating to be stuck here when she should be helping them. Pushing those memories away she focused on the next two days. Tomorrow she would ready herself again to meet Mr. Sevier, and then the day after she would be gone, gone from Mama, gone from Hope, and gone from Logan.

  The thought should have comforted her, but strangely, as she looked around the neat room, she felt sad. She had left her own home and found herself here, in this warm place with this wonderful woman; she could only hope the home she was going to would be as welcoming. The floor was cool on her bare feet and it made her feel down to earth and part of the world, making a difference. She wondered if being a rich man’s wife would give her the same feelings, or if she would feel lonely without the earth and people who needed her. Shrugging her shoulders she could only wonder.

  From the doorway Logan’s sweet whistling could be heard. A few moments later Kit and Tyler came tumbling into the room, washing their hands and face in the wash basin. Next they headed up the ladder and disappeared into the dark cavern in the ceiling. Annabelle looked questioningly at Mama.

  “I make them change their shirts before supper; we should look nice for each other.” She winked her eye at Annabelle and set a plate of hot rolls on the table.

  Annabelle looked down at her own wrinkled outfit and wondered how she appeared. She excused herself for a moment and went back into the bedroom and looked herself over in the glass. Her face was red, especially her little nose; she touched it and felt a jab of pain, it was definitely burned. She would need to apply more aloe to it later. Next she tried to pull her fingers though her hair. The wind had wreaked havoc on the braid, along with her nap and it would take some fiddling with before it would look decent. She could hear the men upstairs and knew she had little time.

  Undoing the knot of fabric she had at the bottom of the braid she ran her hands through it and straightened it out a bit. Next she gathered up the mass in her hand and pulled it back tightly against her head. With one hand she held it while the other removed the fabric from between her teeth. Pulling hard she caught it up into a ponytail at the top of her head. Looping the long tail under, she wrapped the fabric around again and tucked it under making a large but smooth loop of hair. It would have to do. She opted out of pinching her cheeks for some color, the burn did that for her and she practiced a smile. Without a change of clothes she would just need to be happy with the outcome. She hurried out of the room just as Logan’s boot hit the first wrung of the ladder.

  The table was a small rectangle and each of the occupants got their own side. Mama and Kit at the long end of the table, Logan took the head seat which left Annabelle at the foot, across from her captor. Annabelle found it strange that Logan sat in the head of household position instead of Kit, the only living male of the Kittlinger family. The men let the ladies sit first and then slid their chairs in and clapped their hands in front of them. Logan gave a brief blessing on the food and Annabelle was pleasantly surprised at how eloquent it was. She eyed him over the table, but his face still held the cool, calm demeanor she was quickly becoming accustomed to. He showed no signs of his conversation with Mama earlier in the evening.

  The stew smelled wonderful and Logan focused his attention on it. Annabelle had looked lovely when he had come in just now and his interrupted confession to Mama was still fresh in his mind. His friend could tell there was something wrong, but Logan had given him a quick scowl in the barn letting him know to drop the subject before it was breached. It had been a rough few days for all of them and Logan hoped a good night’s sleep tonight would cure the cloudy mood which had settled over him. A warm meal and the feeling of home was already helping. Everything changed when Kit spoke:

  “So Miss Casey, tell us a little bit about yourself?”

  Logan tried to kick him under the table. Annabelle looked shocked and then a little shy. Mama smiled.

  “Oh there isn’t much to tell.” She tried to look uninteresting.

  “Do you have a family where are you from?”

  “What does it matter?” Logan snapped, he didn’t like where this was going. He had already felt things for this girl that he had no business feeling, if she became any more human to him he would lose the professional edge he so desperately needed.

  Annabelle glared out at him from under her thick eyelashes. Logan stared back for a moment then went back to eating. Looking back at Kit she gave him a ravishing smile. “I am the youngest of three, I have two older brothers. My mother and father live on a farm about two days from here in Destitution.”

  Kit looked warily down at Logan, but his friend did not look back, only kept his nose in his bowl. He looked at his mother for some support and she in turn spoke:

  “And your family, how do they know Mr. Sevier?”

  Logan’s spoon hovered in mid-air, somewhere between his food and his mouth. The muscles in his shoulders tensed and he felt the dull ache creeping down his back. He waited, afraid of what he knew he would hear.

  Annabelle hesitated. The mood in the room had shifted and both Mama and Kit were staring her down. “Mr. Sevier and my father are business partners.” A half-truth, but it was better than the real answer.

  Mama nodded her head then her eyes went to Logan’s hunched form. He had put his spoon down but refused to look around the table.

  Annabelle hoped there were no more questions. She would hate to have to tell them the real cause for the marriage, and even more humiliating, tell them she had never actually met the man. Her appetite was dwindling. Quickly she studied the bite of stew resting on her spoon. The once warm kitchen seemed chilled and Annabelle unknowingly shivered. The silence hung heavy in the room and no one dared to speak. Finally Logan slid his chair back and he stood.

  “I’m going to bed,” he growled, and then headed for the ladder.

  Mama cleared her throat. “You and Kit will be sleepin’ in the barn tonight, Annabelle gets the loft.”

  He froze in his tracks his hands clenching and unclenching. His plan had gone terribly wrong, and now this woman was sucking the life out of him. His emotions raged within him. She had admitted she was exactly who he thought she was. Her father was a business partner, therefore she was rich, and probably had no idea it was because of men like her father that he and his people were suffering. It was because of their filthy business practices she was here in the first place. She should be the one sleeping in the barn, getting a taste of what these honest people lived with every day. But instead of spewing out his insults he drew a deep breath, and turning on his heel, he marched to the door and jammed his hat back on his head. The sooner he could get away from her, the better.

  Kit, Mama, and Annabelle finished their meal in silence. Kit gave her an encouraging smile before he, too, left the house for the evening. Mama quietly got up and headed for the sink. She had a large teapot of water boiling on the stove and she poured the steaming water into one of the wash bins. Annabelle got up and helped clear off the meal. Logan had changed dramatically at supper time and it bothered her for some reason. What had she said to make him so upset?

  She loaded the dishes in the hot water and put some lye soap in until the basin filled with delicate white suds. Mama had finished with the table and moved to the kettle to dump more hot water into a second bin for rinsing. Annabelle worked quietly in the wash bin, the warm water relaxing her a bit. Mama, too, remained quiet doing her part.

  Mrs. Kittlinger wasn’t one for conflict, but it was hard for h
er to see Logan treat someone so harshly. She knew how he felt about Mr. Sevier, and she understood why he had abducted the girl in the first place, but his manners had been inexcusable so far. She would need to talk to him. He didn’t have to like the girl, but he did need to be a gentleman around her.

  As she rinsed and dried the dishes she watched Annabelle’s body gestures. The girl washed dishes like a professional. Once, as Annabelle handed her a dinner plate, Mama looked carefully at the little hands that seemed so delicate at first sight. She saw the yellow spots of calloused skin at the top of the palm pad. Her fingernails were short and worn down. The freckled knuckles bore the signs of hard work and minute scars any working woman would acquire during a day’s work. In comparison to her own hands they were almost identical, hands of a woman who had worked every day of her life. She was puzzled. There were some questions which needed to be answered.

  “Annabelle, tell me more about your family.”

  Annabelle’s chest heaved up and down and she seemed reluctant.

  “Come on girl, he’s gone, you can talk freely to me.”

  Annabelle sighed again. “I guess I just don’t know what to say.”

  “What about your mama? What is she like? Why don’t you tell me about her?” Mama gently encouraged.

  Annabelle’s hands halted for a moment and the backs of her eyes prickled with emotion.

  “Well, Mama, she is a lot like you.” She tried to smile up at the kind woman, but her eyes swam with tears and she brushed them away with the back of one soapy hand.

  “Is your Pa still alive?”

  “Yes, he and the boys run the farm.”

  “And a pretty little thing like you, what do you do?”

  Defiantly she looked up at the woman. “I help.” It came out harsher than she had wanted, but she was getting the distinct impression these people felt she was pampered. That definitely wasn’t the case in her home. “You do your part and you work hard, everyone does.”