Defiant Heart

by Tracey Bateman

  “What’s going on?” Blake demanded. He knew he had to tread carefully. This man could snap Katie’s neck without any effort whatsoever.

  “Nothing you need to worry about, mister,” the man snarled.

  Fighting against his sudden anger, Blake knew he had to maintain control of what could turn into a volatile situation. But there was no way he was letting this man kidnap Katie or anyone else. “Let’s just pretend it is something I need to worry about. What are you doing manhandling that little girl?”

  “Like I said”—the man kept a firm hold on Katie’s bone-thin arm and moved forward—“it ain’t none of your never mind. But just so’s there ain’t no trouble, this girl and her brother and sister is indentured to me.”

  “It’s not true,” Kip said, pulling against the other man, tall and bald, with the longest neck Blake had ever seen. A gun flashed against Kip’s side, but the apparent danger didn’t seem to deter the boy in the slightest.

  The fat man’s face reddened in anger. “You callin’ me a liar, boy?”

  “That’s what you are,” Kip spit back.

  The man turned to Blake with a cajoling smile that showed a gap where his two front teeth had once hung in his mouth. The grin only boiled Blake’s blood.

  Katie found her voice. “D-don’t let him take us back, Mr. Tanner.”

  The man shook her arm, making her whole body vibrate with the movement.

  “Shut up,” he growled before looking back at Blake, clearly tired of making the attempt at civility. “I paid me fifty dollars fair and square to their pa. Now hand Fannie over to me, and we’ll just be headin’ back to Hawkins.”

  Movement from the wagon behind them caught Blake’s attention. Pale and trembling, Fannie appeared at the canvas opening. “Don’t believe him, Mr. Tanner,” she said, gasping with pain.

  Blake stepped forward and extended his hand, half-assisting, half-carrying Fannie down from the wagon. “Are you saying this man doesn’t have a right to you and the twins?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “Lyin’ scrap of a gal. You know dern well I paid for you fair and square.”

  Fannie turned angry eyes on the man, but even in the protection of Blake’s arm, she trembled in fear. It didn’t take much deduction to figure out this man had been the source of the beating she’d received.

  “If Miss Caldwell says you’re lying, I’m inclined to believe her, mister. I suggest you and your friend release the children and leave the way you came. We don’t want trouble.”

  “Now, lookee here, mister.” He dropped Katie’s arm, and the little girl ran to Fannie, burying her head in Fannie’s side. Blake dropped his arm from Fannie’s shoulders and braced himself for what could turn into an ugly incident. He knew there were at least six members of his wagon train with rifles pointed at the two intruders. But if he could resolve the matter without gunfire, without bloodshed, he would prefer it. Still, he figured it was this man’s choice.

  “I said, I don’t want trouble,” Blake said, giving the man a cold, even glare. “But if you want some, I’ll be happy to oblige.”

  “All I want is what’s mine.”

  “I’m not letting you take these three without proof they belong with you.”

  A look of pure stupidity slid across the man’s face. “What kind of proof you talkin’ about?”

  Was this man as dumb as he appeared to be? “Indentured servants enter into a contractual agreement. Do you have a document proving your claim?”

  A frown creased the wide forehead. “You mean a piece of paper sayin’ I bought ’em?”

  Indignation formed a black shadow across Blake’s heart. “You can’t buy children in this country. Not white children anyway.”

  “Mr. Tanner?” Fannie’s weak voice spoke up once more. “He paid my stepfather fifty dollars to keep us indentured for two years.”

  “There,” the fat man said with smug self-assurance. “She admitted it.”

  Blake frowned and turned to the young woman. “Fannie?”

  She shook her head. “He’s kept us as his slaves for three years. The way I figure, he owes me a year’s salary.”

  From outside the wagon circle, a limb snapped. They turned as another stranger entered the camp, pistol drawn and cocked. “The girl’s right.”

  “Hank!” Toni finally spoke up. “What are you doing?”

  The woolly man looked familiar, but Blake couldn’t quite place him. For now anyway. He knew it would come to him eventually.

  “Miss Toni,” he said, “I saw these men ride out and figured they was up to no good.”

  The man still holding on to Kip gave a snort. “Shoulda knowed you’d be behind this, Hank.” He turned to the fat man. “That fool smithy’s been sweet on my girl for years.”

  Smithy. Now Blake remembered why he looked familiar. The man was the town of Hawkins’s blacksmith.

  “I’m not your girl, George. I worked for you,” Toni said, her voice cracking with nerves. “I’m free to leave Hawkins if I choose.”

  The man’s eyes glittered dangerously, and he leaned closer to her. Toni shrank back even though she had to know there was no real threat with six men ready to plug this fellow should he make one false move.

  “I think we’ve heard enough.” Blake turned to the fat man. He was barely able to keep from punching the sweating pig of a man. “Fannie clearly has no obligation to you any longer. And Toni has made it plain she doesn’t intend to return to Hawkins, so I suggest you men clear out.”

  “We ain’t clearin’ outta nowhere without what belongs to me.”

  “We don’t belong to you, Tom. We fulfilled our obligation a year ago.” Fannie’s face was pale, and even in the firelight of the lanterns held by several of the bystanders it was pretty clear she was about to faint. “I’m not taking my Kip and Katie back to that stinking town no matter what. So you might as well do as Mr. Tanner said and clear on out of here.”

  Without a word, the man moved with surprising speed, hauling his enormous frame toward Fannie. She sidestepped, as though accustomed to the move, and he lunged forward, narrowly catching himself before plunging headlong into the wagon.

  Sam finally showed up, looking disheveled and in pain, but holding his Colt out in front of him. “Mister, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll take that advice.”

  Tom glanced around, finally realizing he was badly outnumbered and outgunned. “Let’s go, George.”

  George shoved Kip forward. He glared around at the group of at least fifty that had gathered in the commotion. He pointed a filthy gnarled finger at Toni. “You ain’t never gonna be any better than what you are, Toni. You was nothing when I found you. Hungry and skinny and half-dead. This is the thanks I get for taking you in and savin’ your life?”

  Shaking her head, Toni met his angry gaze head on. “Thank you? You made me what I became. But, no more. Do you hear me? Never again.”

  He sneered. “You ain’t never gonna be no more than you are, girl. And that’s a fact.”

  Hank Moore stepped between George and Toni. His eyes glittered dangerously as he stared the man down, heedless of the six-shooter in George’s hands. “You heard the wagon master, George. It’s time for you and Tom to go.”

  “You’ll be sorry, Hank. You know she ain’t never gonna care for you like you care for her. Ain’t you spent enough on her?”

  Hank said nothing, and finally George spun and walked toward a red sorrel mare. He swung himself into the saddle and galloped away without a backward glance. Hatred glittered in Tom’s eyes. Blake braced himself for trouble. Surely the fool wouldn’t try anything stupid. Tom looked from Fannie to Blake, indecision clouding his simpleminded expression. “You going to cause trouble, Tom?”

  At the sound of Blake’s veiled threat, Tom finally made up his mind and backed down. He hauled his girth to his poor horse’s back, the man’s behind so large the saddle was hidden beneath his layers of fat. Disgust rolled through Blake as he watch
ed the two men ride away.

  He spun on Sam. “I thought you were supposed to be looking out for them.”

  Giving a humble nod, the scout raked his fingers through shoulder-length hair. “I was distracted and didn’t hear them. They jumped me and knocked me out cold.”

  “They did?” If Blake had known that, he wouldn’t have let them off so easily. “You okay?”

  “Head’s a mite sore. But I guess I’m none the worse for wear. Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t cure. Unless you want me to keep watch again?”

  Blake gripped his rifle. “No. I’ll stand guard over Fannie and the rest.”

  “I’ll stand guard over my own wagon,” Kip growled, thrusting out his chest and rising to his full height.

  “I take it you’re the one that fired a shot?” Blake eyed the lad.

  “That’s right.”

  “Good job. If you hadn’t alerted the wagon train, they would have snuck in and stolen all of you away, including Toni.”

  The boy beamed beneath the praise. “Weren’t nothing much,” he mumbled.

  “It was. And I’m glad to know I can count on you to look after the women. But you have a full day ahead of you keeping watch and attending to your chores. A boy your age needs plenty of sleep so your bones will grow.”

  Kip’s eyes squinted with distrust. “What about you? You don’t need sleep?”

  The kid had a point. And a sharp mind. Blake liked that. “As someone who is much older, I’ve slept years longer than you already. I’m better suited to lose a little sleep. Besides, I’d feel better if you’re watching over your sister from inside the wagon while I look after the outside.”

  Kip’s eyes brightened with understanding. “Yeah, if ol’ Tom gets past you, he’s going to have to deal with me.”

  Blake’s lips twitched. “Exactly.”

  “If you two have it all worked out,” came Fannie’s weak voice, “I’m going to say good night.”

  “Kip, climb up ahead of your sister,” he instructed. Kip did as he was told.

  “Put your arms around my neck, Fannie.”

  “Not in a million years, mister,” she said, her stubborn bravado shadowed by the weakness of her words.

  “Aw, Fannie,” Kip said. “Do as he says.”

  “Mind your own business, Kip,” she said, her voice so soft, Blake feared she’d pass out any second. “I don’t need his help.”

  “Well, you’re going to get it anyway.” Without waiting for permission he knew would never be granted, he swung her tiny body into his arms. Inches from her face, he looked into her eyes. Up close, they were even more alluring than from a distance, and Blake couldn’t help the ideas swarming his mind. Only her weary sigh brought him back to reality and kept him from making a fool of himself. As carefully as he could, he lifted her into the wagon bed while Kip took hold of her to keep her steady.

  “Thank you, both,” she said, clearly in pain. “Good night.”

  Blake turned to Toni. She seemed to read the request in his eyes, for she came forward. “I’ll take care of her, Mr. Tanner.”

  “Thank you.”

  She nodded at Sam. “Good night again, Mr. Two Feathers. Take care of that knot on your head.”

  An embarrassed smile quirked Sam’s lip. “I will, Miss Toni.”

  “Good night, Hank,” she said to the smithy. “Thanks for coming to the rescue again.”

  The burly blacksmith squeezed his battered hat between his beefy hands. His face cracked into a smile. “My pleasure.” The canvas flap lowered behind her, leaving Blake and Sam to break up the gathering of onlookers. “Morning’s coming awfully early, folks,” Blake announced. “I suggest everyone turn in for what’s left of night.”

  Willard stepped forward, smiling his usual mocking grin. “Mighty chivalrous of you protecting those women and the young’uns.”

  Blake’s defenses rose. “Chivalry had nothing to do with it. I would have done the same for you.”

  “Still, a man has to wonder if trouble’s going to keep following us now that those four are part of the train.”

  “You just concentrate on not causing trouble of your own, Willard, and I’ll worry about Miss Caldwell and Toni. Got it?”

  Blake left him standing and strode to where Hank Moore still hung back, watching the wagon. Blake extended his hand, taking note of the other man’s strong grip and work-hardened palms. “Thanks for your help, Hank.”

  The giant of a man inclined his head. “Glad I was handy.”

  “What are your plans now?”

  “I ain’t goin’ back to Hawkins, thet’s for sure,” he said. “You-uh-got room for another man on horseback?”

  This could be the answer to one more problem for the wagon train. A smithy would be an invaluable addition. “You’re a blacksmith, right?”

  “Yep.”

  Blake exchanged a look with Sam, expecting to find easy acceptance. Instead, hesitance clouded the hazel eyes. Concern slid through Blake; it wasn’t like Sam to stand in judgment of anyone.

  Still, without a good reason, how could Blake say no? Especially after the man had given up his life in Hawkins to watch over Fannie and Toni? That action alone deserved the benefit of the doubt. “We can always use a blacksmith. As long as you keep prices fair.”

  “You got my word on that.”

  “You can put your bedroll next to my fire.”

  “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather stay close to Miss Toni’s wagon so I can keep an eye on her. George ain’t gonna give up just because you say so.”

  “As a matter of fact, it’s not all the same to me. It’s not proper for you to sleep outside of her wagon. I’m sure Toni doesn’t need the train’s gossip mill to buzz any more than it already will after the truth about her past came up tonight. And if I’m not mistaken, one of those men actually implied you’re a longtime customer.”

  The man’s eyes caught fire, and Blake braced himself just in case the fellow might take a swing.

  “Mr. Tanner?”

  Blake turned to the sound of Kip’s voice coming from the wagon. “What is it, Kip? Everything okay?”

  “You ought to let Mr. Moore stay outside our wagon. He helped us get away from Tom. Even kept our wagon and oxen for us. We wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t helped us out. Couldn’t you just sorta let folks know that Mr. Moore ain’t doin’ anything improper? Miss Toni’s changing her ways. I heard her say so.”

  Blake hesitated at the youthful ability to believe in folks. He considered the lad’s words. It would be nice for someone else to assume responsibility for the women and young’uns. He surely didn’t have time to play nursemaid to the bullheaded Miss Caldwell and her wagonload.

  Again Blake looked at Sam for approval, and again he was greeted with hesitance. He knew he’d have to get Sam alone and find out what it was about the blacksmith that made his friend’s hackles rise.

  “The boy might feel safer if someone he knows and trusts stays outside the wagon, Mr. Tanner,” Hank said. In the firelight, Blake took note of a look in Hank’s eyes that might have been desperation. The man must really care about Fannie and the twins. Still, he couldn’t just dismiss Sam’s concerns without at least taking time to investigate further.

  Never one to let another man think for him, Blake shook his head. “I’ll stand guard tonight. You’re welcome to join me. I could always use the company.”

  The smithy’s eyes grew dark, and he seemed about to argue, but a sudden change came over his face as his gaze landed on Kip. He smiled at the lad and ruffled his red hair, which was in desperate need of a pair of shears. “There, you see?” he said with the tenderness of a father. “You’ll be safe with Mr. Tanner standing guard. And I’ll be here too.”

  Kip’s face relaxed into something akin to relief. “Good night, Mr. Moore,” he said. “I’m glad you decided to come with us. When Fannie wakes up, she’ll be glad too.”

  The man’s expression softened beneath his bushy beard. “Me too, son.”
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  Blake watched the paternal exchange with a sense of foreboding. The man seemed to be a savior. But Blake had never known Sam’s instincts to fail him, and that gave him more than a little reason to pause. On the other hand, he’d seen the way Sam looked at Toni. Could his reservation be a simple case of the basest of human emotion? Jealousy? The only other time Sam had been wrong about a man had also involved a woman. And that time almost got him killed. Sam might be a brilliant tracker and the best shot in the West, but when it came to women he was about as dumb as one of Fannie’s oxen.

  He walked away from the wagon, where Sam still stood, looking on like a mother hen watching over her chicks. “You best turn in,” he said. “Morning comes early.”

  Sam shook his head. “Later.” He stared at the blacksmith as the man made himself comfortable against a wagon wheel, his rifle laid strategically across his lap.

  “Suit yourself.” Blake knew better than to try to make Sam talk when he didn’t want to. And right now, all his friend seemed to want was to keep an eye on the newcomer.

  Blake headed back to the wagon, mentally shaking his head. Sam must be smitten with the prostitute if he was so determined to watch the man standing watch over the wagon. Blake knew from experience that Sam made his own decisions. If he’d decided this woman was somehow special, no amount of talking would convince him to look elsewhere for love. But he supposed he shouldn’t judge. Being half-Indian, Sam’s choices for a wife were limited. Most white women wouldn’t look at him twice, let alone consider him a suitable match. But a woman like Toni…she ought to be grateful any man would even consider a relationship with her that lasted for more than an hour.

  Blake listened to the sounds of the camp as folks settled back down after the upset of a gunshot and attempted kidnapping. He figured husbands and fathers would be restless at the thought of anyone wandering into camp and carrying off their loved ones. But he wasn’t too worried. He didn’t figure the two men would try anything more tonight.