The Horseman. Jillian Hart
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How strong and brave of him. Fury at Hennessey for hunting the horse in the first place. He was a son of a bitch, that’s what he was. A strong man hurting the weaker, the more vulnerable. The very nature of man made her sick and she padded away, careful to remain quiet.
“Then get the hell back out there!” Cal’s fury echoed in the silent rooms. “Out! Now.”
“Won’t do it.” There was no apology in the horseman’s words.
Hope returned. What did he say? The stallion was alive?
“I won’t allow that stallion to be harmed. Not if I’m standing. When I hired on, we made a deal, Willman. I told you, no harm. I won’t inflict it. I won’t stand for it. Only a coward hurts an animal.”
He stood like an errant knight at the base of the stairs, washed in light, framed by darkness, a solitary soldier that fought for all that was right.
It was fanciful, Katelyn knew, but she’d been wrong. Dillon hadn’t hunted the stallion, and the power of it left her trembling. Her chest filled. Her eyes burned.
She’d been mean to him. Again! Remembering his fumbling attempt to speak to her in this kitchen, and how she’d expected the worst of him, she covered her mouth with her hands. She’d been wrong. She’d been wrong about the stallion. What about the man?
“No, Willman,” Hennessey was saying, his rage a controlled, quiet warning. “Not for all the money you could beg, borrow or steal to pay me. It’s time to end our business.”
Cal’s swearing tirade made Katelyn wince, but it didn’t seem to intimidate Dillon. He did not shrink or cower, but faced Cal with confidence.
“If you can’t find the greenbacks, I will take my salary in trade. I’ve got my eye on three of your broodmares. I’ll be happy with that.”
“Why you greedy bastard. You take those horses, that’s theft, and I’ll have a noose hanging around your neck. We still hang horse thieves in this county.”
“Taking what you owe me isn’t theft. Any jury will agree.”
“Who needs a jury? You’ll do the job I paid you to do.”
“Then pay me what you owe me, or I’ll make you get out that noose. You’re not man enough to get it around my neck.”
“Fine. I’ll be rid of you, but that won’t save the stallion.” Cal stormed down the stairs and pushed past the horseman, knocked him hard in the shoulder as he passed.
Hennessey didn’t move. The blow didn’t register. He stood like a granite mountain, as if nothing could harm him.
He was the only man she’d ever known who would stand up to her stepfather.
A door squeaked open at the far end of the hall. Not the door to the library, where her stepfather’s safe was hidden, but her bedroom door.
No, not the jewelry. Horror filled her as the air was pulled from her lungs. Her hands flew to her throat as she gaped, fighting to breathe. Her plans died before her eyes as her stepfather approached, holding something that winked and glittered in his outstretched hand.
“Here. Take it. It’s all I have. It ought to be worth a few hundred. A drifter like you couldn’t be worth more.”
“I’m not interested in a lady’s jewelry. I told you, I want greenbacks, or I’ll take the mares. It’s your call.”
Katelyn sank to the floor, her face in her hands. This couldn’t be happening. How could she have forgotten to move the jewelry? It was because of him, the horseman. He’d been the sight that drew her from the room, making her forget everything but him. It wasn’t fair. Not after all she’d been through.
“I can’t let you have the mares, Hennessey. They are all that’s keeping me solvent. If I had the money in hand, I’d pay you.” Cal closed his fist, crushing the necklace in his cruel hand. “I have a fine house, with many treasures here. Surely I have something you might want?”
“I have no use for a fancy painting or expensive candlesticks. You have until morning to come up with the greenbacks, or I’ll take this matter to the sheriff.”
“No, wait. There is something you can have. I know you want her. I’ve seen the way you look at her.”
Katelyn’s hands slid from her face. Her head jerked up, seeing at the same time the cruel triumph curling Cal’s upper lip and the horror on the horseman’s.
“You would sell me your daughter?”
“She’s my stepdaughter and of no use to me. Take her. She cooks, she cleans, she’ll warm your bed. Surely that’s worth three hundred dollars.”
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