Page 9 of Her Gentle Protector
“Well, it appears you’re going through all the names that begin with M. I just thought I’d make it easier on you.”
“Put the hen down, Midge,” he commanded, gritting his teeth.
“I need this hen and you can’t take it.”
“You stole it.” His large hands reached out towards her.
Midge’s eyes darted around the rain-soaked landscape, searching for a way to escape his grasp. Her heart pounded in her chest as she made a split-second decision, dropping the hen and bolting towards the dense underbrush that lined the edge of the property.
“Get back here, Midge!” Baxter muttered under his breath, giving chase. His boots slipped on the slick grass, but he pushed forward, determined not to let her slip away.
“Leave me be!” Midge yelled over her shoulder, her voice ragged with desperation. She weaved through the trees, her agility and resourcefulness on full display as she tried to put distance between them.
“Can’t do that,” Baxter grunted, his focus solely on catching her. He could feel his earlier grumpiness fading, replaced by something more primal as he chased her. It reminded him of the games he played as a child with his brothers. But she wasn’t Chat, Rex, Frank, or Whit. If this was a game, he was determined to win.
Midge’s heart raced as she dodged low-hanging branches and leaped over fallen logs, the rain-soaked ground nearly giving way under her bare feet. She could hear Baxter’s heavy breaths getting closer, spurring her to push herself even harder. But her determination faltered as she felt her foot snag on a root, sending her tumbling head over heels until she crashed into a large tree.
With a groan, Midge pushed herself up, trying to shake off the shock that had settled over her. But it was too late. Baxter was upon her, his powerful hand encircling her arm as he hauled her to her feet.
“Gotcha,” he breathed, his face mere inches from hers.
Midge’s breath caught in her throat as she gazed into his deep brown eyes, seeing something there she had never seen before. It was as if he’d replaced his earlier grumpiness with a fire, a raw desire that left her feeling both exhilarated and afraid.
“Why did you do it, Midge?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.
“I had to,” she replied, still breathless from the chase. “I need to feed my family. We’ve not eaten in several days.”
“By stealing from mine?” he snapped, his grip tightening.
“I swear I didn’t have a choice. I went to town, but no one would help me.”
She watched as his face softened. Just a bit.
“Where’s your Pa?”
Tugging on his grip, she tried to pull at his fingers. “You’re hurting my arm.”
He loosened his grip.Just a bit.
“Where’s Harold?”
“I - I don’t know.”
Baxter dropped his hand, releasing her immediately. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I don’t know. He left several months ago, and I’ve not seen him.”
“He just left you?”
Midge swallowed hard and dropped her gaze, afraid to look into Baxter’s intense eyes. His cheek twitched and his chest heaved as he drew in a deep breath. With a quick nod, Midge conceded, unable to form words in the face of his rage.
“How many are at your house?”
“There’s me and my eight siblings.”
“Nine of you?” Baxter grabbed her arm again and started walking towards the small cabin. “Take me to your place.”
The rain beat down mercilessly, pelting the dilapidated roof of Midge’s home. Baxter stood there for a moment, taking in the sight before him. The house was little more than a shack, its faded wood splintering and peeling under the relentless storm. Through the cracked window, he could make out the faces of Midge’s siblings, their eyes wide with fear and curiosity, dirt smudged across their cheeks.
