Page 6 of Her Gentle Protector
“How do you know, Bax? It ain’t like you’ve had one before.”
Baxter scoffed at his brother’s teasing and rolled his eyes. “I don’t need a girl to know they’re trouble.”
“Sure, sure,” Rex said, grinning. “Whatever you say.”
“I’ve seen enough of them in town to know they’re not worth the trouble. They’ll just distract you from important things.”
Rex shook his head. “I don’t know, Bax. I think it’d be nice to have someone to come home to.”
Baxter didn’t respond, lost in thought as he rummaged through the tools in the barn. He needed to concentrate on fixing the fence and finding out who was stealing their chickens, not on some meaningless romance. As they worked, Baxter couldn’t shake the feeling that their farm wasn’t the only one being targeted. He had overheard some of the townsfolk mentioning missing chickens and livestock. Baxter decided he would find out who was behind it all and put a stop to it for good. No one was going to steal from the Hartman family and get away with it.
Heaven had better help the thief that continued to steal from Ma.
Baxter had been patrolling the farm, but even in the shadows of dusk, he hadn’t been able to catch the person responsible for the missing hens.
And now it was raining.
The storm worsened, soaking through Baxter’s clothes, and chilling him to the bone. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to ease the ache spreading through his legs. The frustration gnawed at him as he wiped a wet strand of hair from his forehead. Time seemed to stretch on endlessly, each minute feeling like an hour.
Pulling down the brim of his felt hat, he shifted the rifle under his coat and tried to get more comfortable. It was hot and sticky, but he knew he needed to be out tonight if he was going to catch the thief. He peered between the raindrops at the chicken coop on the far end of the barnyard. The barn doors were open, the light illuminating the yard and casting shadows towards the sleeping chickens on their roost.
“Come on. Come on out, you dirty thief,” he growled under his breath, as if his words would encourage the chicken thief to reveal themselves. The rain grew heavier, drenching him to the bone, but his resolve never wavered.
He gritted his teeth as he kept watch over the chicken coop. The rain pelted against his hat, streaming down his face in cold rivulets, but Baxter hardly noticed. Time seemed to stretch on endlessly, each minute feeling like an hour. With every passing moment, his patience dwindled, and his anger grew.
The oil lamp Baxter put on an iron hook swayed lightly against the rain pummeling it. It had been so dry that he was thankful for the rain, but it was making his job more difficult. He was exhausted and longed for nothing more than to curl up in his bed. The cold water rolled off the thick fabric of his hat and down his back, causing him to flinch.Would the rain ever end?
For nearly a week, this thief had deprived him of the comfort of decent sleep. The only respite from the damp ground was to nestle between corn stalks, keeping his eyes peeled for the thief that had been plaguing their land. Despite his best efforts, he had failed to catch them in the act. Meanwhile, an unexpected guest had taken up residence in their home, barring him from entering and leaving him out in the elements. The lack of a roof over his head left him feeling vulnerable. As a result, he was now both cranky and tired, with hunger gnawing at his belly like a ravenous beast.
His eyes felt gritty, as if he had rubbed them with sandpaper. Every blink was a brutal reminder of how long it had been since he last slept. Although he tried to keep himself alert, he drifted off at inexplicable moments, lost in a muddled chaos of fatigue.
He felt his head drift to the side, and he tumbled into the cornstalks surrounding him. Gasping for breath, he sat up and patted his coat to make sure the rifle was still there. Taking a deep breath, he looked around the barnyard.
Baxter squinted into the darkness as he heard a soft rustling coming from the direction of the chicken coop. His heart raced, and he thought for sure it must be a fox or coyote, but then he saw a tiny figure, bathed in shadow, draw closer. He stood straight up, scanning the darkness to find where the shadow disappeared to.
There! Close to the tree.
He squinted, trying to make out a figure against the night sky. Was it a fox, or a coyote? No, this figure was too big.
The creature disappeared into the darkness once more, and Baxter moved closer. Suddenly, the chicken coop door creaked open, and a figure emerged, clutching a hen tightly against their chest. Baxter sprang from his hiding spot, closing in on the thief with swift determination.
“Stop right there!” he barked, his voice booming through the storm.
The thief halted, eyes wide with shock, and took off running in the rain, disappearing in between the cornstalks, with Baxter right behind.
Chapter Three
Midge was determined not to take anything from the Hartmans again, especially after nearly being caught the previous time. She even rode the swayback mare to town to buy food for her siblings.
The shopkeeper refused to extend her credit and limited her purchases to the pennies she scraped together. Attempting to push away the jeers ringing in her ears, she hastily exited the store with her meager purchases, tears blurring her vision. The pound of beans and pound of flour wouldn’t last very long, but at least it was something. How did Pa always find money for his drink, but she couldn’t find money to buy enough food for her siblings?
When she couldn’t take the whining any longer, she would disappear into her bedroom and beg a God she knew had forgotten about them.
Heavenly Father, help me. Please send an angel to help me,she silently pleaded.
“What are you doing, Midge?” Ira came over and placed his hand on her shoulder.
“I’m praying, sweetheart.” She rolled back from her kneeling position and wiped the tears from her face. “Is there something wrong?”
