Chapter Thirty-Six
Her hands trembled. They were beginning to tingle from where she held them above one shoulder, ready to swing. She figured she had one chance. Although older, slower, and fatter, he was still much stronger than she was, and if she didn’t get it right the first time, she doubted she’d get another shot.
Resting the poker on her shoulder, she held her breath, listening for footsteps as she pressed herself against the wall. She said a prayer, something she’d been doing a lot of lately. She wondered briefly if God answered prayers for strength to bash a man’s head in with an iron poker.
A shuffling noise, followed by a thump signaled his return. Biding her time, she waited until she saw his balding head and swung. Reflexively, she closed her eyes, unable to watch what she was doing. She heard a squeal and a thud, not the crunch she’d expected. Peeking between one squinched lid, she saw him, still standing—although he slumped against the wall holding his bloody nose.
“You broke my nose!” The sound he made was ear-piercing, like the squeal of an angry pig.
Not good enough. A bloody nose wasn’t debilitating, so she hit him again, striking his arm, and again, bringing it down on his back as he turned away defensively, the iron landing with a dull thud. He screamed and made a grab for it, yanking the metal rod from her grasp.
Unarmed, she did the only thing she could think of; she kicked him. In the shin first, and when he twisted, reaching down for the pain, she struck a second time, aiming for his most vulnerable spot. She missed, connecting with his thigh instead, but it was a firm blow and he went down, in a cursing, crying mass of writhing pain.
Now that was good enough. Running for the door, she grabbed the rifle from the table by the window and her coat off a nearby chair. As she ran, she patted the pockets to ensure the bullets were there. A second later, she bolted out the front door.
Slipping and sliding in the snow, she held to the side of the building as she made her way to the overhang where his horse was tied. As she rounded the corner, a hand grabbed her arm. Jenny screamed, turning instinctively to fight off her attacker.
“Hey now, I’m trying to help.”
The feminine voice broke through her panic, startling Jenny enough that she stopped.
“You’re the girl who was kidnapped, right?”
Jenny blinked. A young woman stood in front of her, a stranger. A very beautiful one with fair creamy skin, glossy black hair frosted white with snow, and violet eyes, a color unlike any she’d seen before. Jenny noted her gleaming white teeth as the woman smiled gently at her. Her beauty was a complete mismatch to the overly large muddy jacket, jeans, and double holster gun belt she wore. Seeing the guns, Jenny jumped back, hitting the side of the cabin with a thud.
“It’s okay. I’m a friend. I promise.” Her eyes skidded toward the front of the cabin and her smile faded. “Let me have that,” she said, taking the rifle from Jenny’s trembling fingers. Expertly, she cocked the lever and moved around the corner, stepping out in plain sight. Raising it to her shoulder, she aimed, saying in a cold voice, “Stay back. I’m a dead eye at one hundred paces. At this distance, I can put a bullet in your skull with my eyes closed.”
Jenny moved in behind her and watched over her shoulder as her uncle froze in place. He was hunched over, swaying a little, and holding a bloody hanky to his nose.
“You do that damage?” the violet-eyed girl asked, amusement ringing clearly in her voice. “Good for you.”
“This isn’t your business, girl,” he ordered, but it came out in a nasally whine. Instantly, the girl laughed aloud. The sound was beautiful, its lilting cadence reminding Jenny of a classical Schubert piece. Everything about her was stunning.
“Shut your mouth, Wisteria Turner, before I come over there and make you.”
Jenny’s eyes cut to the young woman standing protectively between her and Eugene, wondering how her uncle knew her name.
“Make me, that’s rich, Harper. I’m the one with the gun pointed at your vital parts. I’m done listening to you. I knew you were a crook the first time I saw you and warned my friends you would rob them blind. I’m not about to let you do it to this nice girl and her family. I’m taking you to jail.”
“Enough of your smug attitude. The girl you’re protecting so vehemently is the reason you lost the house, the farm, and are working your fingers raw in an underground mine. I did everything right, until she and her nice family mucked it up.”
Jenny, who had been taking it all in, took a step away from her. “You know him? Are you working together?”
“No!” the girl shot back at the same time her uncle laughed.
“She’s nowhere near as innocent as she’d like you to believe, trust me.”
Jenny didn’t know what to believe, except she didn’t trust either of them. She surely wouldn’t ever believe a word that came out of Eugene Harper’s lying mouth. Taking up the reins, she led the horse out of the shelter. Her foot was in the stirrup as horses, several of them, rode into the clearing. Four in all, she saw Aaron, Luke and a dark-haired man she didn’t know. The other saddle was empty, the rider running headlong toward her uncle. He didn’t speak a word, letting his fists speak for him as he landed a bone-crushing punch to Eugene’s jaw, snapping his head back and knocking him out cold.
“Heath,” Jenny breathed, starting toward him.
His head whipped around and she saw the blind rage in his eyes. There was a brief moment when he appeared to look through her, before the tension eased in his face, Unable to stand anymore, she sank to her knees. A sob escaped, and then another. She was in his arms a second later, crying into his chest, no longer able to keep up the brave front. Her hands clung to his shoulders as he wrapped her up tight, lifting her out of the freezing cold snow.
“Darlin’,” he breathed, his hand coming to her jaw, lifting her face toward his. “Are you all right, Jenny? Did the bastard hurt you?”
“I want to go home,” she cried. “Please, Heath. Take me home.”
No further words were necessary as he turned with her. She spared a last tear-filled glance at Eugene. He’d come to enough to begin whining as Aaron applied iron wrist cuffs and secured them behind his back. She allowed herself a watery smirk. “See how you like it, uncle.” Then she buried her face in Heath’s neck as he mounted up and took her home.