The Cowboy's Convenient Proposal. Linda Ford
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could feel her measuring him, trying to gauge him. He could see her throat work as if she struggled to swallow.
Finally she nodded. “He has my little sister. Belle’s only eight.”
The words thundered through him. A person would do anything to protect a little sister...or brother. Hank was only six when Ward left, Travers, thirteen. He did a little mental arithmetic. That was seven years ago. How had time passed so quickly, silently...sadly?
He wished he could know if leaving had made it better for Hank and Travers.
“Has he hurt her?” Each word ripped a piece of flesh from his heart.
All the starch left Red and she sank forward. “You talk about how cruel treatment touches the mind and heart. I see it in her. But so far I’ve protected her from worse.” She scrubbed at her eyes. “I have to get back to her.”
He understood that there were other kinds of torture, especially for a little girl. He nodded and together they rode onward. “We need to get her out of there. You, too.” Though technically Red was out of the situation, he now understood why she would return. Why she felt compelled to.
“He will never let us go.”
He heard the resignation in her voice. But he wasn’t about to accept defeat. This time he would fight to make sure a man like Thorton could not continue to rule by the power of his fists. “Have you ever considered going to the Mountie?”
“Thorton never lets us out together unless he’s with us. If I ever went to the Mountie on my own, I fear what would happen to Belle.”
“I figured as much.” He considered the situation for the next few miles. “Here’s the plan. I’ll go with you to the Mountie and he’ll make Thorton release your sister.”
Red didn’t answer for a moment as she studied his suggestion. Finally she nodded.
He considered her from under the brim of his hat, wondering if she only pretended to agree. He was learning she didn’t easily go along with plans others suggested. More than that, he understood why she would agree to something with her mouth while dissenting with her mind.
The sun reached its zenith as they neared town. It blared down on them without pity. One of the first buildings was the Mountie station. A horse stood patiently at the front. Hopefully it belonged to the lawman. Their whole plan rested on him being there.
Ward swung from his saddle and hustled over to help Red dismount. He guessed from the way she pursed her lips she might have protested but reconsidered and allowed it with barely a hesitation and likely only because her leg hurt. But after she gained her feet she pulled away so they marched side by side toward the door. Ward fell back to let her step in first.
The Mountie sat behind a desk, writing in some sort of ledger. He glanced up at their arrival. Ward got the feeling he saw them both in detail but his eyes lighted on Red and he slowly rose to his feet. “Thorton said you’d been kidnapped. This man the one responsible?”
Ward’s neck tingled. His plan didn’t include getting arrested and maybe hung.
“He didn’t seem particularly worried about it, I might add. Said you’d be back soon enough.” The Mountie considered Ward from head to toe, no doubt silently examining him for a weapon.
Ward could assure him he carried no hidden pistol or knife. In fact, he kind of counted on the Mountie’s authority to accomplish what they needed. “I didn’t kidnap her. She was injured. I took her to a friend to be doctored.”
“That right, miss?”
Red dismissed his question with a wave of her hand. “I’m here to tell you the truth.”
“Always interested in the truth.”
“Thorton’s got my little sister under lock and key. That’s how he knew I’d be back.”
The Mountie came to rigid attention. “That’s a serious charge. One I intend to follow up on.”
“We’re counting on it.”
He grabbed his wide-brimmed Stetson. “Let’s go talk to Thorton Winch.”
Ward and Red trotted after the Mountie. Red would have burst into the saloon ahead of him but he pressed her back. “I’ll deal with this.”
Ward could feel Red’s hot impatience as they followed the Mountie inside. Mr. Winch jolted his chair to all fours when he saw the three of them. “Told you she’d be back.”
“She tells me you have her little sister locked up here.”
Thorton chuckled loudly. “She’s addled. Don’t know why I keep her.” But Ward saw the evil glint in the man’s eyes and knew he would beat Red unmercifully if he got his hands on her.
Ward didn’t intend he should get the chance.
“Have a look, Constable.” Thorton waved his arm to indicate the whole place was open to him.
“I’ll show you where she is.” Red stomped past Thorton, being sure to stay out of arm’s reach.
Ward and the Mountie followed.
Red threw open the door to a tiny room with a narrow bed against one wall. But the place was as clean and tidy as an unused manger. “She’s gone.” Before either man could think, she dashed back to the grinning Thorton and tried to claw his eyes out. “What have you done with her? Tell me.”
The Mountie peeled her off the man. “Sorry to bother you,” he murmured to Thorton.
Red broke from the Mountie’s grasp and raced outside.
Ward noted that Thorton appeared totally unconcerned. The man knew he had Red in his clutches.
Without a doubt his ace was Belle, Red’s little sister.
Where had he hidden her?
* * *
Red swallowed back a yard-wide wail as she stood in the center of the street. She stared the full length one way. Where was Belle?
She turned slowly and studied the other side of town. Slowly her thoughts settled. Thorton would not let Belle go if for no other reason than it forced Red to dance for the despicable creature who considered himself her owner. Belle was around here somewhere. Close enough that Thorton could mock Red’s frustration. She shuddered. He delighted as much in tormenting Red as in anything else.
Where would he hide Belle? Likely any number of men would help him. Men of the same quality as he. Like Mr. Shack, who ran the feed store. Or dirty Old Mike Morton, who worked at the livery barn. Mike had a little cabin behind the barn where the owner allowed him to live.
The perfect place to lock up a little girl.
Without a backward glance or a considering thought, she steamed down the street, crossed behind the store to avoid being seen approaching the livery barn. She reached the tiny cabin. Sure enough, it was locked solid and the windows were boarded up tight as a drum. She tapped the door. “Belle?”
Did she hear a rustling? “Belle?” She dare not call loudly and alert any of Thorton’s willing cohorts, but she was certain something—or likely someone—moved inside.
The padlock was solid. No way she could hope to break it.
The wood on the windows was thick and nailed to last eternity.
No willing tool stood ready for her use. She glanced toward the sky, her frustration longing to escape in a scream. But she bit back any sound.
She looked to the right and the left. Saw the woodpile behind the store. Where there was wood, there was an ax. Exactly what she needed. She clambered over the debris between the yards, found the ax with its head buried in a log, wriggled it loose and stomped back to the shack. Gritting her teeth, she swung the ax with all her might against the padlock. When it refused to give, she attacked the door. Chips flew