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“Hey there, fella. Miss me?”
Cash snorted again and neighed, raising and lowering his head several times.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
He spotted his saddle against the wall and looked toward the house before grabbing it. He saddled Cash and cinched everything down tight before stepping back into the shadows and watched the door for another ten minutes before hurrying out of the barn and heading into the trees. The backdoor opened the moment he did.
The rope on her leg got caught on the door as Morning Dove opened it. She untangled the length of it, gritting her teeth at the thought of being tied like a dog, and forced herself to not slam the door shut.
Dashing to the well, she braced her hands on the side of it and bit her tongue to keep from screaming. Tears burned her eyes, the frustration she felt making her limbs shake, and try as she might, she could not think of a single thing to do to make Walter keep his hands to himself short of cracking him over the head with the first thing she could get her hands on. The idea was tempting but with her luck, she would end up killing the old coot and she was not about to rot in jail because of his worthless hide.
For once, he had not taken to the bottle as soon as he finished his supper. Tonight, he sat in his chair and watched her, his glassy eyes following her around the house. Those looks told her everything he did not say. He would not be too drunk to force her into his bed tonight, and the thought of it turned her stomach to the point she was sick.
Movement out of the corner of her eye drew her gaze back to the house. Walter was at the window. She straightened and dropped the water bucket into the well, listening to it hit with a splash before glancing toward the window again. Relief he had walked away made her gut unclench.
A bad feeling gnawed at her. Walter was unusually quiet most of the day, and every time she looked at him, he was staring at her. When his gaze lingered on her breasts, dread settled like a weight in the pit of her stomach.
A rustling in the bushes drew her attention to the tree line. The shadows were dark there, the light all but gone now that the sun was sinking behind the mountain. She stared into the darkness for long moments before turning away.
The hand crank on the old well creaked as she drew the bucket back up. Walter’s bath was all pretense. He had done nothing to break a sweat other than walk to the outhouse so she knew his request for a bath was nothing more than a way to get naked and have her close to him without having to take her by force.
Revulsion at the thought made a shiver race down her spine as she tipped the bucket over to pour the water into the house pail. A hand clamped down over her mouth the moment she did.
Morning Dove startled and screamed, her grip on the bucket slacking enough she dropped it to splash back into the well. Her screams sounded like nothing more than a dull moan as the person behind her put enough pressure into their hold, nothing much was heard. An arm wrapped around her waist a moment later and she was pulled back into someone’s embrace.
“Don’t scream,” they whispered into her ear.
It was a man from the sound of his voice. He loosened his grip on her, his hand falling away from her mouth. She inhaled a breath to scream despite him telling her not to, but her lungs stopped working properly when he stepped around her into view.
She stumbled back, the bucket at her feet kicked over, the water spilling into the grass and under her bare feet. Her eyes stung, the dull ache in her chest dying as she stared at him. “Ben?”
He smiled, the cocky twist of his mouth enough to make her lunge for him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on so tight, he grunted.
“I missed you too,” he whispered, his arms wrapping around her waist.
Their embrace was short lived. He pulled back, raising his hand to cup her cheek. “Ready to get out of here?”
She forced the tears burning her eyes away and nodded, not trusting her voice. Ben glanced at the house before grabbing her hand and saying, “Then let’s go.”
Three steps away from the well, and the rope tied to her ankle jerked her to a stop.
Ben turned to look at her, then down at the ground when she pointed at her ankle and bare feet.
Something dark flashed in his eyes. “He keeps you tied?” She nodded, and his scowl grew as he reached to his side, pulling a knife from a scabbard on his belt. He cut the rope, leaving the knotted part still on her ankle. “I’ll cut the rest off when we’re safe.”
He stood and grabbed her hand again before leading her into the woods. She glanced at the house when they reached the trees. There was no sign of Walter.
Her heart was racing as Ben pulled her along behind him. She saw Cash, saddled and waiting, the moment darkness enveloped them. Ben grabbed his reins and led them both deeper into the woods.
She followed behind him, her jaw clenched as twigs cut into the bottom of her bare feet. Briars scraped along her legs, drawing blood in thin, fine lines, and she cursed Walter for burning her leggings the day he tied her to the stove.
The need to look back at the house to make sure they were not being followed caused her to stumble enough Ben looked back at her. His hold on her hand tightened and fear they would be caught left her insides shaky. If Walter saw them…
No, they would get away. They had to.
A dark shape moved ahead of them in the trees. Fear it was Walter made her steps falter. Ben squeezed her hand and tugged her along behind him, and she smiled when they were close enough for her to see that the shadow she had seen moving was Wind Chaser. The horse snorted at them as they approached and Morning Dove smiled for the first time in a week.
Ben said nothing when they reached the horse, just turned, grabbed her around the waist and lifted her onto Wind Chaser's back. His saddle creaked when he did the same and with a look at her, he tilted his head and said, “Let’s go.”
