A Hopeful Heart (27 page)

Suddenly a flapping noise, accompanied by the squawk of a bird, came from somewhere beyond Tressa’s head. What had startled the bird into flight? She bit down on her lip to hold back the screech of fear, and she tasted blood. “ ‘I will trust in Thee. . . . I will trust in Thee. . . .’ ” The whisper rasped from her dry throat. Might her words bounce from the hard ground to God’s ears?

Hattie set her horse at a reckless pace. Questions crowded her mind. Why would someone shoot at Tressa? Had she been hit like Spotty? Did she lie somewhere hurt and bleeding? The lack of answers made her pulse race, and she dug her moccasin-covered heels into the horse’s ribs and demanded, “Yah! Yah!”

The gate to the Lazy S lay just ahead. Hattie had planned to head right on to the Hammonds’, but when she spotted Abel pitching hay from the barn loft’s opening into his wagon bed on the ground, she pulled the horse’s reins and turned in at the gate. She clattered directly to the wagon and brought the animal to a halt.

“Abel, you been workin’ out here all day?”

“Pret’ much.” He stood the pitchfork on its tines and frowned down at her. “Somethin’ happen?”

Quickly, Hattie explained Spotty showing up with a gunshot wound and no rider. “Didja hear any shots?”

“No, but if it happened while I was inside the barn, I wouldn’t’ve. Those rock walls block out nearly everything.”

Hattie gestured anxiously. “Well, she was headin’ for the Hammond place to ask Gage to supper. Didja see her ride by here?”

“Haven’t seen nobody come down that road all day, ’cept for you just now, but I might’ve been inside the barn when she went by.” Abel caught the pulley rope that hung from the peak of the barn and came down hand-over-hand. “Or she might’ve cut across the pasture between our places.”

Hattie groaned. “She could be anywhere. I was hopin’ to spot her along the road. . . .”

“Can’t spare Vince an’ Ethan—they’re out with the herd—but I’ll saddle a horse an’ help you look.”

“I’d be obliged. Don’t mind tellin’ ya, I’m plenty scared.”

“You head on to Brewster’s place—get some more men to go lookin’. I’ll double back an’ ride the fence line, just in case she left the road.” He squinted up at her. “You got a pistol with you?”

Hattie patted her hip where her sidearm always rode.

“Good. Fire a shot in the air when she’s found.” He headed for his barn.

Hattie gave the reins a yank, and the horse wheeled around. A hard nudge in his ribs, and he took off at a gallop. The sooner she reached the Double H, the sooner they’d find Tressa. “Yah, Rudy, let’s go!”

27

Worry nibbled at the back of Abel’s mind as he searched for signs of hoofprints heading off the road and across the grazing land. In all his years of living in Barnett, he’d never heard of anyone taking a shot at a lady. To think someone had done so now rattled his sense of well-being.

Don’t let her be hurt
. The words formed in his heart, but they weren’t a prayer. More of a demand to anybody who might be listening. When he’d learned Miss Sallie had sneaked off, he hadn’t experienced an urgency to locate her and make sure she was safe. But the moment he’d been told Miss Tressa was missing and could be hurt, fear had clawed its way to the very center of his soul.

He also wanted to find the shooter. Any man worth his salt took care with his weapon—knew what he was aiming at, and usually hit the target. His stomach churned at that thought. If she’d been shot, it was best he found her instead of Aunt Hattie. The old woman didn’t need such an ugly picture in her mind.

Hurry . . . Gotta find her . . .
He scanned the area, seeking any sign of Tressa. He forced his brain to release the worry and just focus. He searched back and forth across the prairie, up and down the road, and then at the ground, alert to anything out of the ordinary. And finally, a little more than a mile from the Flying W, he spotted a set of shod horse tracks veering from the road into the pasture.

They had to belong to Tressa’s horse. Hope pounding through his chest, he angled his horse in the direction of the tracks and rode slowly, his head high, eyes seeking. He considered calling out for her, but if the person who had shot at her was still somewhere near, he could put himself in peril. So he used his ears and his eyes and searched diligently.

He followed his own fence line, noting places where the grass had been mashed down, offering evidence of Tressa’s progress. With his head angled to the side, looking down, he almost missed something rustling in the breeze just ahead. Instinctively, he pulled back on the reins and swiveled his eyes forward. Rumpled calico fabric . . . a woman’s dress!

He leaped from the horse’s back and stumbled the few yards forward to where she lay on the ground, unmoving. No blood stained her clothes, but maybe the bullet had entered from the front. Fearful of what he would find, he advanced slowly. He bent down on one knee and gingerly placed his hands on her shoulders to turn her over.

Releasing a scream that pierced his eardrums, she sprang to life. She rolled to her back and kicked out with both legs. Her arms thrashed, connecting with his chest and shoulders. The terror in her eyes melted him, and he captured her wrists. “Tressa! Tressa, I’m not goin’ to hurt you. I’m here to help!”

For several more seconds she continued to rail against him, little animal grunts of fear leaving her lips, while he continued to reassure her with calm promises. Then just as suddenly as it had begun, the fight went out of her. She wilted into a defenseless heap. He released his hold on her wrists but caught her shoulders to help her sit up. Her muscles quivered beneath his palms.

She stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes. “A-Abel?”

The sound of his given name on her lips caused his heart to skip a beat. She must be very unsettled to forget her manners. “That’s right.” He glanced down her front, seeking signs of injury. To his great relief, she seemed unhurt. Only very badly frightened.

“How . . . did you know . . . I needed help?” Her words came out in little gasps.

Abel maintained a soothing tone, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Aunt Hattie sent me out lookin’ for you. She was worried sick when your horse come back without you. ’Specially since he had a gunshot wound.” Abel licked his lips and darted a glance around the area. “Were . . . were you hit?”

She shook her head. Fine strands of tangled hair were clinging to her cheeks and neck. “No, I wasn’t hurt. But I didn’t know what to do. I thought if I got up, he might—he might try again to shoot me.” Her chin crumpled. “Why would someone want to shoot me?”

“I don’t know. . . .” The fearful confusion dimming her blue eyes made Abel long to soothe her worries away. Only the knowledge that she was being courted by another man kept him from gathering her into his arms. But he had to offer comfort somehow. “Maybe it was just a hunter shootin’ at some quail or a deer, an’ his shot went awry.”

She sat in silence, her gaze boring into his, as if considering his explanation. Suddenly she let out a little huff. “Well, he nearly frightened me to death. Hunters should exercise greater consideration when there are people nearby.”

A grin twitched at Abel’s cheek. Her high-falutin’ speech attested that she was returning to normal. He strode to his horse and tied the reins securely to a fence post. He then removed his pistol from its holster. “Cover your ears, Tressa. I’m gonna fire off a shot to let Aunt Hattie know I found you.”

She pulled up her knees and hunkered forward, squeezing herself into a ball with her hands over her ears and her eyes closed tightly. Abel fired the shot and then quickly holstered the gun. He took hold of her hands, pulling them from her ears. She sent him a wary look.

Gage Hammond was a lucky man, Abel thought as he gently helped Tressa to her feet. “Let’s get you back to the Flying W. Aunt Hattie’ll be eager to see that you’re all right.” Holding her hand, he headed toward his horse.

“No, wait! I forgot . . .” She pulled loose and hobbled to the fence. On tiptoe, she pointed to the other side. “Over there—see that fire pit?”

Abel frowned. “I see it.”

“There’s a branding iron, but it— Oh!” She clapped her hand over her mouth and stared at him, her eyes once more filled with fright.

Concern sent him forward several feet. “Tressa, what is it?”

“It . . . it’s gone.” She looked rapidly back and forth. Whirling to face him, she caught his shirt sleeve and shook it. “There was a branding iron lying right there in that fire pit.”

Abel shook his head. “Tressa, you must be mistaken. That’s not a brandin’ pit—a brandin’ fire would need to be bigger. I reckon one of my men started a fire out here to keep warm at some time, or maybe to heat up a pot of coffee. We don’t do any brandin’ out on the range.”

“But I saw a branding iron, Mr. Samms. It was there, and now it’s gone.” Her shoulders rose and fell with the speed of her breathing. “Do you . . . do you think the person who shot at me might have come and taken it away?” Tears pooled in her eyes. “I was lying right over there. He . . . he could have easily killed me.” Her voice rose with hysteria.

“Now, Miss Tressa, don’t go gettin’ yourself worked up.”

“But . . . but . . . it was there, and now—”

Abel grasped her shoulders, giving her a slight shake. “Miss Tressa, stop it. You been out here for quite a while. The sun’ll do funny things to a person. Even make ’em see things that aren’t there.”

She knocked his hands loose. “I
know
what I saw! There was a branding iron lying right next to those pieces of charred wood!”

“All right, all right . . .” He held up both hands. “I believe you.”

Her eyes narrowed.

He sighed. “Well, maybe I’m havin’ a hard time believin’ you. Can’t figure why somebody would be brandin’ out here.” At her irritated huff, he added, “But maybe they did.”

“And then someone walked off with the branding iron while I was lying in the grass not twenty feet away?”

He had no answer to that. He held out his hand. “C’mon, Tressa. I fired off that shot. Aunt Hattie an’ the others’ll be headin’ to the Flyin’ W to check on you. I need to get you back.”

He swung into his saddle, then pulled her up behind him. “Hold tight.” Her arms curved around his waist. The touch sent a jolt of reaction through his insides.
The sun’ll do funny things to a person.
Had the sun caused the strange response? Somehow, he didn’t believe so.

“Let’s go.” He clicked his tongue on his teeth, and his horse headed for the road.

Hattie tucked the fresh-smelling sheet beneath Tressa’s chin and gave the girl’s cheek a gentle pat. “There now. You just get yourself a good sleep, an’ by mornin’ you’ll be right as rain.”

Tressa sighed, burrowing against the pillows. “Aunt Hattie, I’m so sorry I ruined your supper plans.”

Hattie waved her hand. “Pshaw! Don’t be silly. Why, Brewster’n me’ll have plenty o’ chances to sit an’ eat chicken an’ noodles together. You’re more important than any dinner. You oughtta know that by now.”

The girl’s eyes flooded with tears. Hattie sat on the edge of the bed and patted Tressa’s leg through the sheets. “Here now. What’re them tears all about?”

Tressa shook her head, tangling the long strands of hair that lay across her shoulders. “You make me feel like somebody special.”

“An’ that makes you want to cry?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Hattie chuckled. “Well, Tressa-darlin’, I’m not tryin’ to make you cry, but you are special. I’ve come to love all you girls. Even Luella. But you . . . there’s just somethin’ that makes my heart reach out to you. Never had no young’uns o’ my own, but I figure God’s given me a glimpse of what a mother might feel toward a child by plantin’ a seed o’ love in my heart for you.”

One tear spilled down Tressa’s cheek. She pulled her hand from beneath the sheets and placed it over Hattie’s hand. “I love you, too, Aunt Hattie.”

Tears pricked behind Hattie’s nose. She sniffled. “I best skedaddle out o’ here an’ let you rest. You had a rough day.”

Tressa’s hand tightened on Hattie’s. “Please stay.”

Sympathy held Hattie in place. “You still feelin’ scared about that rifle goin’ off?”

“Yes. Something . . . isn’t right, Aunt Hattie.”

The girl spoke the truth. If someone could take shots at a girl as sweet and harmless as Tressa, then there was certainly something wrong in the world. But Hattie pushed her lips into a smile. “What’s that, darlin’?”

“I tried to tell Mr. Samms, but he wouldn’t listen to me. He said the sun was making me see things that weren’t there. But I know I saw a Double H branding iron lying near a fire pit on Lazy S land.”

The hairs on Hattie’s arms prickled. “Double H? You sure?”

“I’m very sure. And I walked along the fence and saw places where somebody had cut the fence and then fixed it again.”

“Did you show these things to Abel?”

“That’s what’s so odd. I tried to. But after he came, the iron was gone. So he didn’t believe that I’d really seen it. That made me mad, so I didn’t try to show him the fence.”

An uncomfortable prickle snaked across Hattie’s scalp. Tressa might have stumbled upon the rustler’s camp. And if she’d been seen out there, the rustler was probably the one who shot at her. If he suspected she knew too much, he might try again.

She bolted to her feet. “You don’t worry now, you hear? I’ll talk to Abel, an’ between the two of us, we’ll get things figured out. You just sleep.”

“Will you pray with me before you go?”

Hattie would never deny a request like that. She took Tressa’s hand and closed her eyes. “Dear Lord, thank You for bringin’ Tressa safely home today. Thank You for Your love an’ protection. Give her peace now an’ let her rest knowin’ that You’re here with her an’ You won’t ever leave her side. Amen.” She patted Tressa’s cheek and smiled. “Can you sleep now?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” The girl rolled to her side and curled into a ball.

Hattie blew out the lamp, pulled the window shade down, and tiptoed out of the room. Once in the hallway, she stopped and replayed Tressa’s statement about the branding iron. At one time Abel had suspected Gage Hammond of stealing his cattle. It would be an easy thing for the man to do, with their spreads side by side. And Brewster wanted to buy Abel’s land. Could the two of them have been filching Abel’s cattle and using a running iron to change the brand in the hopes that Abel would give up and sell his ranch?

When she’d arrived at the Double H today, Brewster was in the house and responded to her plea for help without one second of hesitation. But Gage was off somewhere. Hattie clenched her teeth. If Gage had been off somewhere firing shots at Tressa and then hiding that branding iron, she’d have a piece of his hide. And Brewster’s, too!