Renegade's Heart - Michelle Kidd (ebook and pdf reader TXT) 📗

of sweat dotted her upper lip.

“Misty, the chair.” Daniel motioned with his chin.

The child was quick to understand his meaning and pulled out the indicated furniture. He eased Frankie into it. 

Daniel breathed a little easier. “There. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I told—”

Her gaze didn’t reach his, but it didn’t need to. The slight flaring of her nostrils sent the message loud and clear.

“Dinner’s ‘bout ready.” Misty spun and headed for the frying pan. She used the spatula to scrape the stubborn potatoes stuck to the bottom of the cast iron skillet.

 An awkward silence filled the cabin, interrupted by the grating of bowls as his daughter transferred dinner to the table, and the occasional pecking of ice pellets against the window.

“I’ll pour the milk.” Daniel slid from his chair, anxious for something to do.  He wasn’t comfortable sitting across from her. It was impossible not to stare at those stunning eyes and flawless complexion. It seemed wrong to watch her without her knowledge.  Even deathly pale and looking as if she might topple over any second, she took his breath away. It was unnerving.  Best to keep busy. 

When everything was in place, five minutes later, Daniel extended his hands towards Misty. “Ma’am, we say grace before we eat.”

“Go ahead, I’m not stopping you.” She attempted to sit aloof, but Daniel noticed the walk had taken much of the starch from her.

“Pa . . . may I say it tonight?”

Surprised, he glanced at his daughter’s hopeful face and nodded. “Very well.”

Misty cautiously touch the sleeve of Frankie’s gown. The young woman jerked at the light tap. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. We hold hands while we say the blessing.”

Daniel held his breath while indecision played across Frankie’s features. To his surprise, she placed a thin hand on the table, palm up. Only one. For Misty.

He caught a hint of a grin before his daughter tucked her head and began to speak. “Father, God we’re thankful Miss Frankie is with us tonight, and mighty grateful you let Pa find her. We thank you for your healing and ask your blessing upon this here food. In Jesus name, Amen.”

“Amen,” he repeated. His daughter glanced at him for approval.  He winked and they both cast a wary eye to their guest.

She sat stone-faced. It was impossible to read her expression.

“I put the broth in a cup for you. Figured it might be easier to hold than trying to fuss with a spoon and bowl. Didn’t think your stomach would handle fried potatoes tonight. But soon, right, Pa?”

“She’s a determined young lady.” He picked up his fork and speared a carrot.

“Here you go.”  Misty eased the cup into Frankie’s hand.

The woman wrapped slim fingers around the mug, brought it close to her face, and took a hesitant whiff. 

“It’s chicken broth,” Misty volunteered.

Frankie sampled the brew. “Not bad. Thank you.”

Daniel smiled, relieved to see she didn't entirely lack gratitude.  Perhaps Misty would win her over yet. 

 

*****

 

The insides of Frankie’s gut quivered as the warm liquid slid down her throat. It tasted good, but her intestines had been without food too long—it needed to adjust to the sensation least she throw it back up.  She swallowed, almost picturing the soup winding its way down into her stomach.

Frankie realized she hadn’t minded the prayer as much as she expected. The hand inside hers offered comfort. Even if it was from a stranger. Although having her name brought before the Almighty made her a bit skittish.  She wasn’t certain there was such a benevolent being, but if so, she didn’t want to be singled out. She’d just as soon remain anonymous. 

“So Frankie, tell us where you’re from? Is your ranch far from here?”

The timbre of Daniel’s rich voice snapped her from her thoughts, catching her off guard. She hadn’t planned past the first lie. Had it suddenly grown warmer in the room? In an attempt to stall for time, she brought the cup to her mouth, took a sip, and swallowed.  “Shenandoah Valley.”

“Shenandoah? That’s quite a distance.”

Frankie figured it was far enough away that no one would dispute her story. She held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t be familiar with the area. “My brother and I have a dairy farm . . .” The lie stuck in her throat. The ruse she and Big Sam used to gain knowledge of the bank’s layout always left a bad taste in her mouth, but now that it included Seth, it felt worse.

“I hear it’s beautiful land up there.”

“Yes. I suppose.” The soup landed like stones in her belly.

“Do you have family back there . . . anyone we can send word to?  They must be worried sick.”

“No.” That was true enough. There was no one now—no one left to care about her. The realization left her drained. “I’d like to lie down. Like you said . . . wouldn’t want to overdo.”

“Of course!”

Daniel’s chair scraped the floor in his haste to be by her side.  He helped her up, measuring his steps to match her slow ones.  She loathed the weakness that left her shaking and out of breath. Despite herself, she leaned on Daniel’s arm for support. Oh, wouldn’t Big Stan have a belly laugh if he could see her now. She steeled her backbone and set her jaw. 

“Just a few more steps. That’s it,” Daniel encouraged. 

The concern in his voice puzzled her as they reached the bed and he eased her down to a sitting position. 

“There. Better?”

She nodded, reluctant to admit he’d been right. The hammering in her head made it hard to think. He swung her feet around and tucked the warm quilt around her. How comforting to have someone take care of her for a change. The gentle attention and his nearness caused a brief stirring of something she’d never experienced. Frowning, she questioned the sudden urge to prolong the exchange. What was wrong with her? She must have some sort of brain damage, she reasoned.

 When he brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen across her face, she drew in a sharp breath.

He jerked his hand away. “S-sorry. I shouldn’t have . . . I didn’t mean to . . .” When he spoke again, his voice held a distant tone. “Well . . . I’ll let you get your rest.”

She listened to the sound of his retreating footsteps and joined the girl at the table. The one room layout didn’t offer much in the way of privacy.  Their muted conversation which included topics of farming, animals, and spring planting drifted to her across the small space.  The subject didn’t much interest her. After a while, she nodded off once more. 

The next thing she heard was the sound of movement about the cabin. Heavy boots tramping back and forth. “I wish you didn’t have to . . .” Misty insisted.

“It’s for the best,” Daniel replied.

“I still don’t see why you have to—”

“Sh-h-h, you’ll wake her. Trust me, it’s better this way. It’s only temporary. Be a good girl and bar the door behind me.” 

Frankie caught a click and wood scraping against wood as the lock fell into place. What was going on? Frankie couldn’t imagine. The girl’s soft steps padded about the cabin.

As much as she wanted to feign indifference, she had to know. “Misty?”

“Yes?  Do you need something?”

“Where’s your father going? Is he leaving?” An unusual discomfort accompanied the thought.

The girl laughed. “Oh, no. Nothing like that. He’s moving to the barn.” 

“Barn? Why on earth would he do that?”

“I’m not quite sure. Something about it not being proper and not wanting to tarnish your reputation.”

“Tarnish my reputation?” Oh, my! That was rich! Her lips twitched with a combination of emotions—both amused and warmed by his gallantry. She had little experience with men who wanted nothing from her. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

“I’m getting ready to go to bed. Do you need anything before I climb into the loft?”

“Hmm . . . what? No, I’m fine.” Frankie’s mind was churning.

“Okay, good night, then.”

“Night.”

Dazed by the turn of events, Frankie lay awake intrigued by the behavior of this odd man. She realized she’d never been afraid of anyone, but something about this stranger unnerved her. He had the ability to throw her off balance, and she didn’t like it. He made her feel weak, vulnerable . . . two things she couldn’t stomach. He muddled her thinking. This fellow was a different kind of dangerous. He got under her skin, making her uncomfortable.

It went against common sense to sleep outside in an icy barn when he might be snug inside his own home. Guilt caused her to squirm beneath the thick quilt—a prickly sensation she’d seldom experienced. She marveled at the prospect. Why would he put her needs above his own comfort? For a moment, she considered what it would be like to care about someone like Daniel. But quickly brushed aside the thought. What was wrong with her!

Obviously, this nonsense she felt resulted from her injuries. She’d just ignore her heart’s whisperings and curiosities about this unusual farmer. She still had to track down Big Sam, and she had no intention of being sidetracked. From this point on, she’d be more careful. Of all the obstacles she would face in finding Big Stan, Daniel Myers would not be one of them.

 

                                                        

 

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Publication Date: 11-23-2015

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