Page 12 of Her Gentle Protector
“Reckon I might,” he said at last, tipping his hat to her.
“Are you going to turn us in to the marshal?”
“Y’all don’t have to worry,” Baxter said gruffly, catching her gaze. “Ain’t gonna involve Marshal Briggs in this.”
“Truly?” Midge asked, hope flickering in her warm brown eyes.
“Think I’d still be here if I was gonna turn y’all in?” He snorted softly, turning his attention back to the rain pouring down.
“Thank you,” Midge breathed, relief flooding her chest. She hesitated a moment before asking, “Will you help us?”
“Help you?” Baxter furrowed his brow, considering her words. “Reckon I don’t have much choice now, do I? Get inside and make sure you eat.”
He turned up the collar on his coat and stepped out into the night, his thoughts lingering on Midge and her siblings as he made his way back to his own ranch.
Chapter Four
The next morning, Baxter trudged through the mire in his boots, leading a donkey hitched to a small cart toward the root cellar. The rain had stopped, but the sucking sound of sticky mud followed every step he took.
“What are you doing?” Annamae asked, taking a crunchy bite of her red apple as she stepped off the porch. Baxter noticed she was shoeless, and he wrinkled his nose at the earthy smell of the mud squelching beneath her bare feet as she shadowed him. He opened the door to the root cellar and started inspecting the stores inside. Annamae watched him intently, still munching on her apple.
“How long have these potatoes been in here?” he asked.
Annamae shrugged. “I don’t know. I think those are leftovers from the fall crop. Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” Baxter said quickly, turning away from her gaze and back to the potatoes. “Why don’t you wear shoes?”
“I don’t like the feel of them,” she answered. “They pinch my toes.” An amused smile played on her lips as she took another bite of her apple. “That’s an odd question,” she said finally, with a chuckle. “Why do you ask?”
He shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed. “No reason,” he mumbled.
“There must have been a reason.”
It was easier to change the subject. “I caught the chicken thief last night.”
“You did?” Annamae jumped up and down, the mud sticking to her feet with each bounce.
“Yeah. She wasn’t wearing shoes either.”
“She?”
“Yeah. It was Midge Beale.”
“Midge? The girl down the road? The one with the raccoon on her head?”
“No. That’s Petunia. Midge is the oldest. I followed her home.”
“You were at the Beale house?” Annamae broke her apple core in half, offering a piece to the donkey and tossing the other half in the air. Baxter watched as it spun towards a pig that was ambling around the yard. The pig quickly snatched up the piece of fruit, not concerned about manners or politeness.
The sight of the pig enjoying the apple bothered him more than he cared to admit. They could feed their scraps to the hogs, but down the road their neighbors went hungry each day. “Her pa left. She’s now taking care of her eight brothers and sisters.”
“Left?”
“She’s all alone, Annie. They don’t have any food.” The thought of the hungry stares from eight...ninefaces made him feel sick to his stomach. “I don’t think Midge had eaten in a while. Whatever they had, she gave to her siblings.”
“That’s terrible.”
“I thought I’d take a few things over.”
