gaze slid past him and her scowl vanished. “Belle?” Her voice grew soft, gentle, inviting.
Ward’s first instinct was to spin around, but remembering Red’s words that Belle was afraid of him—the way she’d said it still irritated—he stepped aside so he wasn’t blocking Belle’s view of Red and slowly, cautiously turned about.
Belle stood at the far edge of the road.
“It’s okay. He won’t hurt you.” Red’s words were as much warning to Ward as encouragement to Belle, and irritation scratched at his decision to help.
Ward let Belle assess him. Though the wariness never left her eyes, she crossed the road to take Red’s outstretched hand. She carefully kept Red between herself and Ward.
“He has a cabin we can use until we sort ourselves out.”
If not for Belle’s presence, Ward would have pointed out how she made it sound as if accepting his offer was a last resort. She gave no account of the fact it was a generous offer made from a concerned person. After all, he was preparing a place for his mother and brothers. Having Red and Belle there would be inconvenient should they arrive. But he already knew the frustration and folly of pointing out flaws in her words. Still, he couldn’t keep from murmuring, “I’m only trying to help.”
“You think that will be okay, Belle?” Red asked.
“I guess so.”
No one acknowledged his generosity, so Ward had to settle for feeling like poor-quality chicken feed. “Then let’s ride.”
He made his way back to the horses and left them to follow. Or not. Whatever they decided. He had done his best. Not much else he could do. But he knew he would not ride away and leave them at the side of the road even if the pair got it in their minds to turn all prickly.
Shoot. They were already more prickly than he cared to deal with.
He reached the horses and turned back to them, standing exactly where they were when he left. “You coming or not?”
Their hesitation was palpable. “I get it. You don’t want to come with me. But you don’t have a lot of options. And I don’t aim to leave you here. So let’s get moving.”
They sure did know how to look less than enthusiastic as they picked their way across the grass to his side. He cupped his hands to help Red mount.
Belle drew back, her fear as thick as stew.
“I have to lift you up to sit behind your sister,” he said, wanting to warn her before he touched her.
She nodded but her eyes flooded with wariness.
He grabbed her about the waist, heard her indrawn breath, felt her stiffen, but before she could reconsider he had her perched behind Red.
He swung into his own saddle and led the way.
“How far?” Belle whispered, likely meaning only for Red to hear.
“It will be almost dark before we get there.”
The sooner she learned that Ward meant her no harm nor posed a threat, the better for them all. How long before either of them felt comfortable with him?
Chapter Three
Belle’s arms clutched about Red’s waist. Feeling the fear and desperation in her little sister, she almost forgot the way her head pounded, the pain driving deeper with each thud of her mount’s hooves. She shivered, though the sun beat down with enough heat to bake biscuits on the dirt trail. Where were they going? She took some comfort in the fact it was the same direction as the ranch. She could always flee there for protection should the need arise. Of course that depended on how far Ward’s cabin was from the ranch. He rode a few feet ahead, leading the way. Why had he offered his cabin? Did he have an ulterior motive? Or was it born from knowing what it was like to receive the blows of fists?
She urged the horse forward until she rode at Ward’s side. “Where is your cabin?”
He pointed in the general direction of the ranch. Some help that was. Would it hurt the man to give exact directions?
“It’s nothing like Eden Valley Ranch. For one thing it doesn’t have the backing of a rich family back in England. Nor does it have the thousands of acres of the Eden Valley land grant. But I’ll be able to run enough cows and horses to make a good living.” He sat easy in the saddle as only a cowboy used to long hours on the back of a horse could.
Red shifted, wishing she could be half as comfortable. But her leg hurt almost as much as her head. She was tired and admittedly, a tad cranky. She didn’t need a cowboy to point it out to her.
Ward continued talking as if his cabin was the most important thing in the world. Maybe it was to him. For her, it was only a place she would go to because she had no other option. Resolve drove away a great deal of her discomfort. She would find a place as soon as possible. She allowed herself to dream a little. Wouldn’t it be nice if Belle could attend school and later, they could celebrate Christmas together in their own home? She’d trim the tree with red ribbons tied in bows of various sizes. There would be gifts. Nothing extravagant. Perhaps a new dress for each of them. Warm mittens. Woolen coats. Maybe she could splurge for one extravagance. A storybook for Belle and a book of poetry for herself.
Poetry? She mocked her dreams. How foolish. That pleasure belonged to the past. As did such dreams. She couldn’t afford half a penny candy let alone frivolous things. With every ounce of self-control she could muster, she jerked her attention back to Ward, who still talked about his place.
“I wanted to get a simple cabin built first in the hopes of persuading my family to join me. Once they’re here, I figured there would be plenty of hands to help make it larger. Next spring, I hope to buy enough cows to start my own herd.” His voice rang with hope and pride.
Red accepted that she had neither hope nor pride left. Nor was she bitter about it. Not with Belle safely behind her, Thorton locked up and a chance to make a better life for them.
“Red,” Belle whispered. “When did you eat last?”
She let the horse drop back and spoke low, hoping Belle would be the only one who heard. “Been a while. But we’ll manage. You and me, we’re survivors, remember? Nobody and nothing can defeat us. Especially not a little bit of hunger.”
“I have an awful big hunger.”
No doubt Old Mike never thought to feed a little girl. Red was glad Belle couldn’t see her face or she might guess at her anger. She could take all sorts of mistreatment, but it made her boil inside that people seemed to forget Belle was a child. Children should be protected, guarded, treated as gifts from God. They should never know anything but trust. “We’ll be okay. You’ll see.”
Ward slowed until he rode beside her. “We’ll rustle up some food soon.” He’d overheard them.
Seems the man was determined to stick his nose into everything she did. However, she was grateful for his help. Or was she? She gave a humorless smile. Not really. She didn’t want him or any man extending favors. If she never again saw another man or had to accept anything from a man’s hand, it would suit her just fine.
They
