Page 14 of Follow the Lonesome Trail
“How lovely,” Constance involuntarily said out loud.
“Itisnice, isn’t it,” the tall outlaw replied, shooting her an angry look.
Well then.
She started to comment that she had meant what she said, when a man of medium height and light brown hair walked out the front door, pulling up short when he saw the three riders.
She wondered if this was the ringleader, or if she ought to ask for help. It probably wouldn’t do any good, but she might as well try. “Excuse me, sir, but I have been kidnapped by these hoodlums…”
“Hoodlums!” interrupted the tall outlaw.
“…and I don’t know just where I am; so if you would kindly help me and possibly arrest these two, I would be grateful,” she finished, wiggling her fingers to get his attention drawn to the fact she was tied to her saddle.
The man continued walking towards them, with a pronounced limp, she noted. He grabbed hold of the bridle and shot a look that could kill towards the two outlaws.
“She’d best be lying,” he said, flatly, then, “Get those things off your faces, you look like a pair of idiots.”
Both of her kidnappers pulled the bandanas off their noses at the same time, expressions a bit sheepish. A little smugly, she noticed her guess regarding their ages had been right. The taller one might pass for eighteen, but the other couldn’t have been older than sixteen. They looked suspiciously like failed attempts to copy the man standing in front of them.
“Oh dear, do they belong to you?” Constance asked, gently dabbing at the sweat running down her temple with her shoulder. At the very least they had to be cousins, though if she were a betting woman—which she was not—she’d guess they were brothers.
The man in front of her rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. “Tate, untie her. And who in the blazes is she?”
“We can’t let her go, Gideon, she might run away!” The taller man, Tate presumably, took his hat off and rubbed at the dark sweat ring his hat had created.
“I swear by all that’s holy, you untie that woman right now, Tate Marshall, or I’m gonna beat you in front of her. You’d best have a good reason she’s here in the first place!”
Constance sighed. This was going a little better. Something told her, though, that her situation was only going to get more interesting from here. She didn’t mind much, but there was the principle of the thing to consider.
“She’s Morrow’s daughter!” said Tate.
Gideon’s hand tightened on her bridle and his face went very still.
“I don’t care,” he said, his voice low, “untie her. Now.”
Tate leaned over and untied her hands. She rubbed her sore wrists. They weren’t bruised or anything, but holding them in one position for so long had made them quite stiff.
“Marsh, you take care of the horses,” Gideon said, as he held out a hand to help her down off the saddle.
Constance let go of Gideon’s hand as soon as she had her feet under her. With what she thought was prim and proper grace she said, “I don’t suppose you have a place I could wash up? And then would you mind telling me what it is you’ve kidnapped me for?”
Marsh snorted as he led the horses away. Tate was the only one who responded. “You think we’d tell you, lady?”
Gideon slapped the back of his brother’s head. “Go get her some fresh water and put it in the back bedroom.”
Tate trundled off, looking mulish. Gideon waved his hand towards Constance, as if to say, “After you.”
Oh dear, she was sore in fiendish places. She tried to walk normally, but it had been quite a while since she’d ridden for so long and her muscles knew it. Besides, that wasnota sidesaddle on that horse.
“Are you really Thomas Morrow’s daughter?” Gideon asked, in a quiet voice, as they walked towards the front door of the farmhouse.
Constance felt a bit uneasy at his tone.
“Does it matter if I am?” she replied, glancing at him as he opened the door for her.
“Unfortunately, it does.” He did not sound pleased with this fact.
To be honest, neither was she.
