Page 165 of Conveniently Wed
Leah inhaled, preparing herself for the next distraction. She pulled the tray of cinnamon rolls from where they’d been warming beside the stove. “Would you like something sweet to finish with?” She forced sugar into her tone, so he wouldn’t suspect anything more than Southern hospitality.
His eyes shrank into a greedy squint. She forked three rolls onto a plate, then carried the dish close enough to slide it toward him, staying well out of his reach.
He scarfed the food, licking his grubby fingers but leaving a sticky mess in his beard. Her middle churned at the disgusting sight, and she turned away to keep her composure.
“More coffee,” he barked.
Using her apron to protect her hand from the hot handle of the coffee pot, she limped toward the table and filled his empty mug with the brew.
Before she knew what was happening, he grabbed her right arm and jerked. The force knocked the coffee pot from her hand, sending it flying across the table.
Her weak leg couldn’t support her resistance, and she landed in the blackguard’s lap.Oh, God, please!
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Leah pushed hard against the man, but his hands gripped her thigh and arm. She pulled his hair with one hand and pushed against his chest with the other.
Using every ounce of strength she possessed, she forced her way out of his grasp. But her right leg wouldn’t bear her weight, and she couldn’t get her left leg under her before she went down on the floor in a heap.
In an instant, the man knelt over her, pinning both arms to the wood floor. She struggled, trying to kick him. But he had the benefit of a better position.
A noise drifted into her subconscious. A man’s voice—far away? She screamed.
He swore, then bent low to push his elbow into Leah’s mouth. The stench of it—of him—convulsed her stomach. She fought for air, desperation clawing at her throat.
Vile words spewed from his mouth, and he glanced at his knife on the table. She forced herself to slow her fighting. Maybe he would think the struggle had exhausted her. If she could get him to reach for the knife, she could get enough leverage to escape his grasp.
He took the bait and reached for the knife, keeping one hand locked around her right wrist. She screamed with all her might and scrambled hard to scoot away.
The cabin door burst open, and the villain over her froze. A man, silhouetted in the door frame, held a gun pointed directly at the dirty bum.
“Get away from her or I’ll blow yer brains out.” The voice was a hard growl, but held an undertone Leah recognized.
Ol’ Mose.
She took the opportunity to scoot backward, far away from her captor. Her heart overflowed with relief.God, thank you!
While Ol’ Mose kept the gun on the man, Leah hobbled to the barn to retrieve a rope. Bless Gideon, the rope was hanging on the barn wall just where she hoped it would be. The braided twine was heavy as she hauled it back to the house. Inside, she held it out to Ol’ Mose, but he jerked his head in the direction of the vagrant.
“You go ‘head an’ tie him while I keep this gun focused on his heart.”
Her hands shook as she moved behind the man. His body odor was enough to send her back outside, but she held her breath and set to work with the rope. When she’d tied the last knot, she backed away, her legs barely supporting her weight.
Ol’ Mose gave her a look, his eyes softening. “Miz Townsend, you go on and git yerself situated while I take care o’ this varmint.”
“Are you sure?”
He moved in, nudging her out of the way. “Sure as shootin’.”
The two men left the cabin, Ol’ Mose pushing the cad with his gun and spewing a steady stream of insults about the man’s character.
It was at least a half hour before Ol’ Mose came back into the cabin. Leah had put her appearance back together, brewedanother pot of coffee, steeped a cup of chamomile tea for herself, and was about to come looking for her friend, just in case the drifter might have found a way to get the upper hand.
As Ol’ Mose entered, Leah rose from her chair, and hobbled with her crutch to take his hat. He must have read the expression on her face, for he gave her a wink as he handed off the felt piece.
“Don’t you worry, missy. He won’t be causin’ you no more trouble.”
She tried to offer a smile, but it was weak, at best. “Please come sit. I have fresh coffee and can offer you what cinnamon rolls he didn’t eat.”
