Melly, Unyielding by Abagail Eldan

Author:Abagail Eldan [Eldan, Abagail]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Romance, women's fiction, Victorian Era, 19th Century, Forever Love, Bachelor, Single Woman, Love Possibility, Frontier-Pioneer Era, Western Romance, Hearts Desire, American West, Clean & Wholesome, Christian Stories, Faith Based, Inspirational Reads, Love Inspired, Life-Changes, second chances, Honesty & Trust, Home & Family, Lifetime Love, Romantic Schemes, Love-Family & Forever, Action & Adventure, Small Town & Rural Area, Lockets And Lace Series, Multi-Author Collection, Novella Length Storys, short story
Publisher: Sheila Hollinghead
Published: 2018-01-25T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Thatcher started to his feet and then forced himself to stop. She was not his prisoner and was free to go. With no bridle and no saddle, without her carpetbag, Carmella wouldn’t ride far. She needed some time to herself. If she didn’t return soon, he’d go after her.

Sam let out a low, long whistle, shaking his head. “So, that’s Melly Harperson.”

Thatcher didn’t respond. He sighed heavily, cursing himself for allowing Sam to come to their campsite.

When the man had shown up, with a slab of bacon, Thatcher had recognized him and thought with his stomach instead of his head. After days of only pemmican, except for the two biscuits Carmella had made, it had been hard to resist when the man offered to cook for them.

The dog whined and looked in the direction Carmella had gone. Sam spoke a word or two to him, and the dog lay at his feet, his head on his paws, but fully alert.

Thatcher eyed the man suspiciously, now that his stomach was full. “So, you knew the Harpersons?”

“Yes, sir. You couldn’t find a better family, always eager to help a fellow out. Her pa and I were thick as thieves.”

Anyone could avow that. Carmella wasn’t buying it, not yet at least. He’d follow her lead and make up his own mind. “Where are you originally from?”

“South Carolina. Folks had a little homestead, but I got itchy feet. Wanted to roam the woods.”

Thatcher studied him openly, frowning. “You can see why Miss Harperson is a little spooked.”

“Rightly so, rightly so.”

“You were watching her last night, and then you show up here this morning.” Thatcher moved uneasily. He was as much to blame as Sam, for welcoming him.

“I ’splained to you. When I saw her last night, the look on her face was as scared as I ever seen. I hightailed it out and decided to wait until the light of morning so y’all could get a better look.” He raised a shaggy brow and smiled.

Thatcher scratched at the stubble on his chin and nodded. He believed the man, and Thatcher trusted his instincts. He considered himself a good judge of character. He had to be in his line of work. He chuckled at that.

Work or pleasure, his instincts had never been wrong, as far as he knew.

He’d not been wrong about Boyd Berren. He’d grown up with him, in the same county, but had never liked him. Steered clear of him.

Boyd, even as a young boy, fought hard and fierce and had the scars to show for it. As big as he was, it didn’t take long for folks to learn to steer clear of him.

As young men, Thatcher and Boyd had marched off to war together. The only thing Thatcher had misjudged was the man’s loyalty to the Confederacy. He’d been young, naïve and didn’t imagine Boyd would desert and return to wreak havoc on his community. Boyd had turned against his own kin, and taken advantage of the women and young girls.

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