Rescuing The Wildcat by Angela Lain

Author:Angela Lain [Lain, Angela]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-07-08T05:00:00+00:00

***

Kanti’s day had gone from bad to worse. Her father had come in for lunch and tried to talk with her, she had blanked it out. While they were talking, or rather he was talking and she was trying not to listen, they didn’t hear the approach of a horse.

There was a knock on the door.

Reuben jumped to his feet, Kanti was fairly sure he believed Jared had returned, she had to admit, she hoped for it, too.

If only.

To her horror the man on the doorstep was not Jared. Instead it was a man she had hoped to never see again.

Mr. Bradley Forncett.

“Good day to you, sir. I don’t suppose I could get a cup of coffee on this cold day?”

If she’d had the chance, she would have said no, and very loudly. Unfortunately her father, welcoming as ever to a stranger, stood back and allowed him entry.

“Kanti, pour our guest a good hot cup.”

Kanti did as she was asked, silently and as unobtrusively as she could. She slid the mug across the table rather than go around to stand at his side. Little good it did, his eyes had been on her from the moment he entered the room.

“Where are you heading, my man?”

“North, possibly on to California.”

“A bit late in the year,” Rueben observed.

“Maybe I will get on the rail road.” He looked directly at Kanti. “Maybe San Francisco. Maybe you would like to come with me?”

She backed towards the stove. “No, thank you.”

Her father looked startled, glancing over to her in a questioning fashion. That was his undoing, the moment his eyes were avert from Forncett, the man attacked.

He was a big man, despite his dandified appearance he knew exactly what he was doing. He knocked her father to the floor and kicked him, hard. Kanti grabbed a pan off the stove and waded in to rescue her father; much good it did. Forncett was probably twice her weight. He back handed her and she flew across the room, hitting herself on the stove.

By the time she struggled to her feet, her father was lying unconscious on the floor. Forncett launched at her and grabbed, once he had her there was little chance of escape. Had she been outside, she would have had her knife in her coat pocket, here in the house she had no weapon to hand. He subdued her in seconds, binding her wrists with a rawhide thong from his pocket.

“Gotcha. They told me you were a wild one. Good thing I was prepared for you.” He shook her. “I’ll teach you not to try hitting me with a pan.”

“What do you expect?” she spat, trying to struggle.

He didn’t bother remonstrating with her, he hit her again, so hard that her head spun and she saw stars.

The next thing she knew she was out of the house and thrown onto his horse. Before she could think, they were away.

She felt sick. Was her father dead? Would she soon be dead? Or was her fate

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