A Ransomed Heart (4 page)

Annabelle let him lead her to the fire area.  There was a single wagon
which held the food and cooking supplies. A man was expertly using the cast iron cookware. He was older with a scratchy face, but his eyes were kind.  The other men had uncovered their faces and she took a moment to look them over.  One man had stayed close to them and she deduced that he was Kit. Just as she thought, he was young. He was not quite as tall as the other man, and he had dark hair and features, his stubble a little more sparse.  The Native American she had noticed before had a smooth face and was nearly the same age; he had strong features and looked quite scary, but he seemed like the calm and quiet type.

As she scanned their faces she noticed
they were all young, some even more boy than man, but they all acted far beyond their years.  While their faces looked young their eyes seemed tired and premature lines crossed their brows.  They dished up their food hungrily and then found any spot in the area to sit.  Trees were sparse in this area but a few meager junipers had managed to force their way through the clay-like earth providing scant shade near the creek.  Annabelle noticed she sat on the only real chair, a triangle piece of deer skin mounted to three thick tree branches and pulled together in the middle to make a tripod.  There was also a single tent behind her which she hoped was for her.

No one spoke to her, although every eye
wandered in her direction every now and again.  She was the prettiest thing in camp and even the lure of food couldn’t hold their thoughts forever.  Annabelle tried to ignore their glances and instead tried to plan some kind of escape.  Her dress was heavy and cumbersome. She would leave the petticoats and just wear the over dress. Because the terrain was rough, she would keep her shoes on, although she preferred the bare feet she wore at home.  Her mother had reminded her that a wealthy woman would always wear shoes, but it would take some getting used to.  She would pull her hair away from her face and she would need to deal with the sunburn now that her bonnet lay somewhere miles away.  It wasn’t going to be easy, but she could do it. She had done harder things and she was determined, not just for herself but for her family.

She
hadn’t noticed her captor had left her side and was replaced by Kit.  He didn’t say anything to her but he kept a good eye on her.  It was strange to her that he seemed so loyal to the man who had taken her, after all Kit’s intentions seemed innocent enough, she was less sure of the others.  Taking her mind off of the men, she looked down at her hands.  They were still tied tightly, but she had little hands and wrists and she wondered if she could get them loose.  Twisting a little bit she pulled first with one hand and then the other but nothing moved.  Not wanting to draw attention to herself she tried again but with more force; the knots still stuck.

“It is no use, he could hog tie a
rhinoceros.” Annabelle nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard Kit’s voice near her ear.

She glared up at him and he just smiled in return.  There was something about him
which was hard to dislike and she found herself half smiling back.  He reminded her of her brother, Jared, his face was handsome and calm, his eyes so brown she could see to the bottom.  He seemed completely different from his friend and she found it refreshing.  Quickly he looked away from her when the blond man appeared and she found the anger creeping back up inside of her, what a jerk.

Logan handed Kit one of the two full plates he had been holding.
The exchange between his friend and the woman did not go unnoticed and he felt a strange pull in his gut.  He was going to need to make some rules about who was going to address the girl, and how. Logan kept a hold of the second plate but with his free hand pulled the girl up to him and then led her away from the group.  He didn’t care for the wandering eyes either.

She waited for them to be
far enough away she could speak freely then she faced him indignantly. “I am not going another step until you tell me who you are and what you’re doing.”

Remembering her gift to him
in the form of a slapped face, he halted and tried to stare her down.  It didn’t work, so he cleared his throat. “I’m Logan Bailey. You may call me Mr. Bailey. I’m going to keep you for a couple of days until your rich husband can give me a very large sum of money.”

“He isn’t my husband
,” she said.

“Well he will be
,” Logan growled.

She glared at him.

“And your name, ma’am?”

“Annabelle
Casey and you may call me Miss Casey.”

A wicked smile
crossed his face. “Whatever you say, Annabelle.”

If her hands weren’t tied she would have slapped him again. Instead she
seethed inside.

“And you
, Logan,” she spat, “are your intentions honorable?”

His eyes narrowed. “Completely honorable.”

“And why should I believe that? Because you have exhibited such honorable qualities up until now? Kidnapping a young helpless girl, putting a bag over her head, and now keeping her hostage for ransom from a man you have never met. Oh, the epitome of honor, Logan!”

He couldn’t
decide if he wanted to wring her neck or laugh at her.  She was far from helpless and he was an honorable man no matter what she thought.  His face burned a bit at her insult but he reminded himself she did not know him, if she had she never would have questioned him. It angered him to the point of losing some of his precious control.

“Listen
, Annabelle,” he hissed, “I wouldn’t think of dishonoring you, whether or not you deserved it. Just steer clear of me, Princess, and before you know it, you will be back in the lap of luxury and the arms of the heartless man you love so much.”  With that he shoved the plate of food into her hands and turned his back on her.

“My hands are still tied
, you Neanderthal!” she shot back.

“Well deal with it!”  He stomped back to the group and grabbed a plate from the cook. To his dismay it was cold and looked like the
scrapings off the bottom of a horseshoe.  Thrusting the ruined meal onto the table by Kit he turned his back on her and put a fork full into his mouth.  It was far from desirable.

At first she was shocked and then bewildered.  What was his problem? H
e was the one who had ruined her day; what did he expect, she would forgive him for kidnapping her?  And what did he mean if she deserved honor? Of course she did! What had she ever done to prove him wrong?  He had no right to say anything about her or her situation, and for all she cared he could believe she was in love with her husband…betrothed, what did it matter to him anyway? Disgruntled she sat down on the warm earth and put the plate in her lap.  Using her hands together she grabbed a bit of food in her fingers and put it in her mouth.  It wasn’t as warm as it had been but it was good. She would surely make a mess, but what did it matter now? Her skirts were worn and dirty and she could only imagine what her face looked like. 

Gently she touched her
forehead and felt the dry trickle of blood and the bruise which was growing under it.  She was so upset and so worried that she felt overwhelmed.  Hot tears pricked at her eyes and she tried to blink them away.  Her options were slim: she could stay with these men and hope Mr. Sevier would pay the ransom so she could free her family from their debt or she could try to escape, but that idea seemed the less likely of the two.  All she knew was that if she didn’t get to Mr. Sevier her family would lose everything because of her. Her heart beat rapidly in her breast and the tears overflowed and she turned her back to the group of men.  Her food became wavy with tears and soon she gave up eating all together, she had lost her appetite.

It was Kit who came to her rescue some time later.  He had not heard the interaction between her and Logan, but he could see the anger on
Logan’s face and it was nearly unmistakable she had been crying.  Logan was nowhere to be seen having gone with the Indian to another part of camp for a time. Her food was cold and uneatable by now, but she didn’t seem to care so he dumped the plate nearby and helped her off the ground.

“M
iss Casey, my name is Marcus Kittlinger, but you can call me Kit. Logan would like you to sleep in the tent tonight.”

She nodded her head but said nothing.

“I have heated some water up over the fire and put it in the basin by the bed.  I apologize it will make a scant bath, but I will make sure no one disturbs you while you wash. Does that work for you?”

She fought back tears again, he was being so kind. “Thank you,” her voice a whisper.

Kit expertly untied the rope that had held her captive then opened the tent flap and gently pushed her in.  On the right side of the room was a cot with a bedroll on it, on the ground was the basin Kit had told her about.  It wasn’t very big but there was a generous amount of water in it. She dipped her finger in and found it a very comfortable temperature.  There was nothing other than the same three footed stool she had sat on when they arrived at camp.  Looking around to make sure there were no windows or peepholes to be found she cautiously unbuttoned the bodice of her gown.  Slipping it off, she laid it on the bed roll and proceeded with the rest of her dress.  The bed was piled high by the time she was finished and some of the petticoats had toppled and were brushing the dirt floor.  The tub was so inviting though so Annabelle disregarded them and slipped her bloomers and sleeveless chemise off, shivering as the cool breeze brushed against her naked skin.  Quickly she climbed into the metal tub and sunk to the bottom.

The minutes slowed and she felt the stress of the day melt away with the warm water. Closing her eyes she plunged her head under the water and held her breath as long as she could. Lifting her face to the
surface she drew a deep breath and again submerged herself in the warm water. She waited until it felt as if her lungs would burst then she rushed to the top and popped her head out of the water.  Her face was wet and a rush of cool air caused her to shiver. Confused she quickly wiped the water away and looked in the direction of door. There stood Logan with mixture of anger and shock on his face.

Not knowing what to do
, Annabelle reached for a nearby petticoat and pulled it up to her neck. She hunkered down in the bath and glared at him.

“What are you doing?” 
she shot at him, her eyes on fire.

His eyes flickered
, too. “Why didn’t you answer me?”

“What
?”

“I asked if I could come in and you didn’t answer.”

“So you thought you’d just come barging in?” She felt the anger bubbling up inside of her.

“No
, I thought…”

“What, I had drowned?!”

His brow puckered. “No, that you had run off!” he snapped at her. “What are you doing in there?”

“Kit told me I could take a bath, is there something wrong with that?”

Logan would talk to Kit about it later. She was their hostage, not their sister, she didn’t need any special accommodations and it would do her good to go without for a couple of days. 

“Well get out of there, we use
it for washing up and there is a whole group of guys out here who need it.”

Defiantly she
remained seated in the water. “Make me!”

He
’d just about had it with her smart mouth. Quick as a wink he crossed over to the tub and pushed on the side of the metal bin causing it to teeter precariously on its side. Equally as quick, Annabelle leapt from the tub clutching the flimsy white cloth to her body, doing her best not to be exposed. She scrambled to the bed and jumped on top of the clothes. Logan lifted the corner of the basin draining the warm water all over the dirt floor. Effortlessly he picked up the wash bin and carried it out the door.  “Goodnight, Bella, try not to get those delicate feet of yours dirty.”

If s
he had been dressed she would have gone after him and clawed his wicked blue eyes out, instead she buried her face in the pile of clothes and screamed until her throat hurt.  The audacity of him, he had no right being so familiar with her, seeing her half naked and using her Christian name. To call her such a personal name was inexcusable.  She pounded her fists against the bed picturing his face instead.  Oh, how she despised him. Finally when she had expended all her energy she sat up and glared at the door.  She almost hoped he would return so she could tell him exactly her opinion of him.  But he didn’t and she found herself disappointed.

Balancing on the thin bed
, she slipped on her bloomers and chemise then she leaned over the side of the cot and wrung her hair out onto the wet ground.  She wished she had her brush and she could almost picture her personal items strewn across the ground by the broken stagecoach.  It was infuriating that this group of boys could have done this.  She wished she could slap every one of them across the face and give them a blistering tongue lashing.  Even if it didn’t accomplish anything it sure would make her feel better.  She felt hot tears pushing against the back of her eyes and she defiantly pushed them away.  The brush had been her mother’s, a meager wedding present to her daughter.  Annabelle was devastated at the loss.  Half heartedly she slipped on one of the petticoats and her new dress.