Deep In The Heart Of Texas

He placed the steaming hot bowl of stew in front of her with a piece of homemade bread and a glass of water. She snatched up the glass and drank thirstily.

“Slow down,” he warned her. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

She set the glass back on the table and picked up a spoon, slowly eating the stew. “What is this?” she asked. “It’s delicious.”

“Rabbit.”

She stopped eating. “What?”

“Rabbit,” he repeated.

She frowned. “You mean like…Easter-bunny rabbit.”

The corner of his bearded mouth twitched a fraction. “Yeah, like Easter-bunny rabbit.”

She looked down at the meaty concoction, and her stomach stirred with hunger. What the hell? she thought. She was too hungry to think about it.

As she gobbled up the last spoonful, Bandit barked.

“We’ve got company,” he said, reaching for his rifle.

“They found us?” she asked, and felt the nightmare coming back full force.

The hermit peered out the window. “Yep, they’re outside the fence debating whether or not to ride in. These two are relentless. You must be very important to them.”

Important to them? Who were they? What did they want with her?

As she made to get up, the hermit said, “Stay put. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound. Don’t even breathe unless you have to. If they know you’re here, we don’t stand a chance.”

Miranda swallowed hard, the urgency in his voice stilling her every movement.

“Damn,” he said. “They’re coming in.” He drew a small pistol from inside his boot and laid it on the table in front of her. “All you have to do is pull the trigger. It’s loaded.”

She shrank away from the gun. “What?”

“If they shoot me, you’ll need to defend yourself.”

“But I hate guns. I don’t know how to—”

“Those men are after you for a reason, and it’s not a good one.”

She stared at the gun, thinking this had to be a bad dream. It was too terrifying to be true—guns, men chasing her, this mysterious stranger. She pushed up the sleeve of her sweatshirt and held out her arm. “Pinch me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Pinch me,” she said again. “I know I’m dreaming, and when you pinch me, I’ll wake up and this will be over.”

He sighed in exasperation. “Where were you raised? In a fairy tale?”

His sarcasm didn’t faze her. She continued to hold out her arm.

Sighing loudly, he moved closer and pinched her. Hard. “Ouch! That hurt,” she said, rubbing the tender spot.

“Satisfied you’re not dreaming?” he asked with a touch of cynicism.

She shut her eyes tightly, trying to accept what was happening. Then opened them again as he caught her chin in his hand and lifted her head. “You’re not dreaming. This is real. Understand?”

They stared at each other, and facing the directness of that dark gaze, Miranda slowly nodded. She’d been kidnapped. Oh, God, she’d been kidnapped! Tears spilled down her cheeks.

He gazed into her watery eyes and moved away, shaking his head as if in disgust. Bandit barked suddenly, alerting them to the impending danger. “Pull yourself together,” he ordered. “Trouble is riding our way.”

At the door he glanced back. “Remember what I said. Don’t make a sound, and use the gun if you have to. It’s you or them.”

Dazed and confused, she looked at the gun. She couldn’t touch it. She couldn’t.

“Pick it up.” The words jarred her.

It’s you or them.

The words bounced in her head, forcing reality to the surface. Her eyes met the hermit’s. In those dark depths there was no relenting. This man did not suffer fools gladly. He expected her to defend herself. God, yesterday all she had to defend herself from were unwanted suitors. Now she had to fight for her life. This was so absurd, so unreal. She’d been drugged and hidden in that awful room. The horror of it filled her—the dark, the gag in her mouth, and the tight ropes on her ankles and wrists.

Her hand closed around the cold steel. Yes, she could do this. She had to.

Those men would not take her again.

CHAPTER TWO

THE HERMIT STOOD on the porch, watching, waiting. He held the rifle in one hand, the barrel toward the Texas sky, the butt resting on his hip, his finger on the trigger.

The two men rode up to a gap that led to a primitive road, the only way out, the route he used when he went for supplies. They talked for several minutes, obviously still debating whether to ride in and face him. Everyone in the county had heard the rumors about him. He’d heard them himself. He was reputed to be mean, vicious and trigger-happy.

He hoped the men remembered those wild tales. To his disappointment they opened the gap and rode through. The woman inside must be very important to them. They wouldn’t risk their lives by riding onto his property otherwise.

As they rode nearer, he focused on the first man. Del Spikes, Clyde Maddox’s ranch foreman. A thin man with a long face and a sour expression, Spikes was a man he had encountered many times over the years. Mainly Spikes harassed him or warned him to stay off Maddox land.

He didn’t recognize the other man, but felt sure he had to be one of Maddox’s employees. A portly man with a round face and dirty blond hair, he held back, letting Spikes take the lead.

About fifty yards from the cabin, the hermit slowly lowered the rifle and fired at the ground in front of the horses. The horses nervously jumped away, and the men had a hard time handling them.

“Get off my land,” he yelled.

Bandit stood by him, growling.

“Quiet, boy,” he whispered.

Spikes reined in his horse. “I want to talk to you, Hermit.”

“Got nothing to say to you, Spikes.”