A Ransomed Heart (10 page)

The
n it hit her, she was attracted to him.  It was such a stunning idea because she had never in her life experienced attraction. It horrified and elated her.  One, because she was to marry Mr. Sevier in just a few weeks, and two, because  if she felt this way about Logan, then how would she feel about Mr. Sevier? Her brows furrowed and she pondered on the subject until she fell into a delightful dream about her captor.

Kit had taken his coffee then went to meet with a couple
of friends for a round or two of poker.  Mama didn’t worry because no one in this town was rich enough to bet anything.  Instead they played for coffee beans, and with any luck her stock would be added to by morning.  Logan was the one who she wanted to talk to anyway.  She had made some pretty interesting observations this evening, about both him and Annabelle, and she thought it would be best if she brought them to light. Logan only growled at her and went on grooming his horse.

“Logan
, do you want to tell me what is going on?”

“No
,” he spat, and moved around to the other side of his horse.

“What did she say that frustrated you
so much?”

“Mama, I don’t want to talk about it.” He was being unkind but he was frustrated.

“Listen here, young man,” she scolded, “I don’t know what is eating at you, but you better knock it off. That little girl in there has more to her than what you’re seeing.”

“Like what, more of her fancy dresses and polite manners
? Believe you me, she is playing us all for dumb.”

“Why do you say
, because her father is Mr. Sevier’s business partner?  Surely they can’t all be bad.”

Logan turned and rested against the stable fence. He folded his arms
across his chest and looked at her. “Don’t you remember, Mama, I know this man and the kind of men who work with him. They’re all bad.” He was frustrated and stomped over to the tack shelf, replacing the curry brush he had been using.

“And her, what did she do?”
Mama asked gently, trying to soothe the situation.

He was
quiet, and Mama handed him his mug of coffee. He took a drink while she continued with her talking.

“I think you
’ve her pegged wrong, boy. I noticed something about her tonight. When we were doing dishes I looked at her hands.”

He looked at her
, not amused. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“She has working hands
, Logan. Not just knitting and sewing, but hands that have worked hard.”

His eyebrow rose
slightly, but he was hesitant to see the implications of the observations.

“Her brothers aren’t married and they help out at the farm. Does that sound like someone who has a lot of money? Rich men h
ave wives and help, they don’t do it themselves.”

Logan finished off his drink and
handed the mug back to Mama. “So what are you saying?”

“Boy, I
’m just sayin' you need to give the girl some slack, I think there is a lot more to her story than what meets the eye.  And if you shape up and behave yourself you may figure it out before it is too late.”

With that she kissed him affectionately on the cheek and then turned to
head back to the house.

“What is that
supposed to mean?” he asked quizzically.

“Oh
, Logan, you know what I mean.” She winked at him and headed out into the darkness toward the house.

Kit wouldn’t be back for hours. If he had felt more chipper he would have joined the group, but for now he wasn’t up to company.  Instead he
laid some fresh straw down on the ground and gathered some blankets from the shelf.  Slipping off his boots he settled down into the bed. It was a far cry from his bed, but it was better than nothing. 

“
Just like a woman to throw a man out of his own house,” he growled as he rested his head on his hands. He closed his eyes and was chagrined to see the pale face of the very woman he was trying to despise. She irritated him beyond all means, but there was something about her he liked.  He enjoyed her personality, she was terribly beautiful, and for all he knew she was sleeping in his bed.

The idea struck him hard and caused him to
breathe in deeply.  Her sweet smell could at this very moment be mingling on his pillow. Her soft body could be wrapped in his covers, her delicate features being framed by the white pillow case.  The idea caused him to ache inside just a bit.  He rolled onto his side and folded his arms; he needed to get her out of his head and fast. There were plans to be made so he forced himself to think of them instead. He just needed to steer clear of her for a couple of days and then he would be clear of her forever, or so he thought.

Annabelle woke up early, it was a habit. There had
always been chores which needed to be done, cows to milk, meals to make, clothes to mend. This morning she didn’t hurry out of bed as usual, instead she closed her eyes and listened to the world around her.  The house creaked and moaned a bit as the daylight touched its rooftop as if signaling it to open its eyes and welcome the day.  The animals outside were awake and there were birds squawking in the trees. In the kitchen she could hear someone moving about, probably Mama, readying the kitchen for a full day of work.  Reluctantly she threw back the covers and left the warmth of the bed.

Her dress would need some mending.  She had an extra dress in her bag, but she
figured it, too, had been lost. Taking a deep breath her bare feet hit the cold wooden floor, and in her hurry to dress she tripped over something on the floor. There on the floor by the foot of the bed was the object of her desire, her brown fabric bag. How had this gotten here?  She was sure its contents were scattered about the barren valley floor by now, but instead it sat here, perfect as a pin, waiting for her to open it.  She undid the clasp and looked inside; everything seemed to be there, if a bit ruffled. Reaching down to the bottom she found the stiff bristles and smooth handle of her mother’s brush. It wasn’t until she was looking at it that she realized she had been holding her breath, it escaped with a squeal of joy. It had not been lost after all.

Logan had heard her moving about. He knew she had found the bag and when he heard her sound of elation he smiled.
Mama had been right about one thing, he should not have been so callous with Annabelle. When he woke that morning long before dawn he had fetched her bag from the chuck wagon and had taken it up to her.  She looked so beautiful asleep there in bed. He dared not linger too long because it would have been mortifying if she had woken up. Quickly he had deposited the case and quietly made his way down the stairs. Drinking the last of his coffee, he smiled to himself; she had been sleeping in his bed.

By the time Annabelle had dressed and brushed out her hair, pulling it up into a bun on the back of her head, the house was silent.  Carefully she made her way down the ladder and found a plate of eggs, some bacon
, and a cup of coffee. She peeked into Mama’s room and saw the bed made. She had not slept too late, but she found herself worried what they must think of her taking so long to get to the chores. Draining the hot liquid quickly, she scalded her tongue; trying to cool it with the eggs, she took a couple large bites then grabbed a slice of bacon and headed out the door.

The sun was bright and warm in the sky as Annabelle
surveyed the surrounding area.  The cabin was modest but nicely built, with a porch and rocking chairs sitting still on the wooden planks. There were flowerbeds at the front of the house dotted with little pink and purple flowers which looked longingly at the sun as if it could not reach them fast enough.  There was a well-worn path which headed to the barn. It was not a large building but it, too, was nicely built. Her bare feet felt good on the warm earth and she hurried in the direction of the barn door.  Surely, someone would be in there.

The tiny valley was alive with people and animals. Women weeded their gardens that looked
healthy and full. Children ran chasing dog and chickens. She noticed there were hardly any men around, and she wondered where they might be. Absentmindedly, she cleaned her hands off on the bright white apron her mother had made for her to go along with her new calico dress. Annabelle had chosen to wear it instead of the green silk she had worn the day before. It was in desperate need of mending and she would be able to help a lot better in this everyday dress.

When she reached the door of the barn she
straightened her skirts and drew a deep breath.  She was unsure how she would react to Logan after her experience in his bed. This morning she noticed his scent lingered around her when she moved, and wondered how long it would last. If she was nicer to him, then maybe they could form some kind of friendship. Her nose wrinkled involuntary at the idea. Could she ever be a friend to Logan? Pushing the thoughts away she reminded herself of her goal. Marrying Mr. Sevier was the only option. If she didn’t, her family would be left with nothing, and she knew her mother especially would never survive. They needed her help. Romantic ideas would do nothing for them now. Squaring her shoulders she entered into the gray light of the barn.

Smells of home were everywhere. The animals stirred in their fresh straw and eyed her with their watery brown eyes. The horses
nickered for sugar and she felt remiss for not having any. Instead she touched them gently on the nose, rubbing between their eyes. Chickens cackled somewhere nearby and she heard the unmistakable sound of milk tinkling into a bucket. Following the sound she found Mama humming softly, her head resting on the warm flank of a brown milk cow. Her eyes were closed and her aging face looked peaceful. It made Annabelle miss her own mother; life as a farmer’s wife was never easy, but there were a few chores that seemed very close to heaven. Annabelle had always loved milking, she wondered if she would have the chance in her new life.

“
Mornin,' Miss Casey.” She didn’t open her eyes and the rhythmic squirting never halted.

“Oh, please call me Annabelle, Mrs. Kittlinger.”

One blue eye opened, “Then you must call me Mama.”

Annabelle
smiled; it made her feel good inside that this wonderful woman would ask that of her.

“Pull up a stool,
Daisy here is about finished, but Sassy still needs to be milked.”

It surprised her that Mama would
ask; surely she, too, figured Annabelle was incapable of anything domestic. Then she realized this was her chance to show her, and everyone else, she was just as capable as they were. Quickly locating a stool and tin bucket she looped a rope around Sassy’s neck and tied it expertly. Then she lead the big bovine from her stall and tied the other end of the rope to the medal “O” hook which was mounted on the wall. Forking over some new straw for the cow to eat Annabelle adjusted her seat and took her spot on the left side of the cow. It felt like home here.

It only took a few flicks of the tail in her face for Annabelle to
realize the animal was going to be difficult. She stood from her spot and took a scoop of oats from a nearby bag. Dumping them into the trough with the hay she again took her seat. The cow seemed pleased with this new addition and only seemed slightly irritated with Annabelle’s cold hands.

“Well I
can see where she gets her name,” Annabelle said, laughter lacing her voice.

Mama chuckled in return. “That there is Logan
’s cow. He has always liked them a little spunky.”

Annabelle felt a flush of warmth in her cheeks. Closing her eyes she put her head against the rocking flank of the cow and let the experience settle into her soul.
The hide of her animal smelled like the earth and the smell of sweet milk wafted up to her nose from the rapidly filling tin. The rhythm of the milking urged a song and Annabelle started to hum to the tune of
Amazing Grace
. The woman behind her joined in. The hollow sound of their humming blended nicely in the quiet barn. Annabelle was flooded with memories of home, and her life there; next her mind drifted to Mr. Sevier and how her life would be there; then sometime between the third and fourth verse she wondered what her life would be like here.

How would it feel to wake up here every morning with the smell of this barn, and this milk
, and Logan? To have Mama to work with and milk with, and Kit to talk with. What would it be like to be in love…in love with Logan? The song had ended and she sat, letting the idea wash over her.  It was beautiful, and sweet, and impossible. She let out a long sigh and squeezed the last of the milk from Sassy’s empty udders.

“
Marvin loved that song.”

Mama’s voice startled her back to reality.

“Marvin was my husband; he died about three years ago,” she volunteered the information freely so Annabelle just listened.

“Kit
sang that very song at his funeral. It was a hard day for all of us.”

Annabelle
swiveled around on her stool so she could face the woman and then dried her hands on her apron.

“How did he die?”

Mama sighed. “Well he wasn’t in good health, but I am convinced he died of a broken heart.”