Read Online Bandit's Hope by Marcia Gruver - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Marcia Gruver
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leaned over.
The wrinkled eyelids shot open, jolting Tiller’s heart. The stranger pointed a bony finger, his watery gaze locked on Tiller’s face.
Dread pitched his stomach. Now would come the anger. The accusation. A fast run to the door and a frantic ride out.
"Thank ye for helping me, son. I’m much obliged." Spent, his hand fell to the mattress, and his head lolled to the side, out like a candle in a draft.
Relief spreading warmth through his limbs, Tiller slumped in the chair. The old man didn’t remember him. Not this time. Would that change when his head cleared?
Tiller should run, no doubt about it. Roll up his pack, roust his horse, and get far away as fast as he could ride. So why couldn’t he bring himself to move?
Did he want to be caught? With his secret in the open, the threat of discovery wouldn’t loom like a guillotine blade.
He scrubbed his face with his hands then laced his trembling fingers behind his head. What kind of game was he playing, gambling with his life?
A need he didn’t understand held him within the comforting walls of Bell’s Inn. Something greater than common sense, stronger than fear. He glanced at his pale face in the dressing table mirror.
Something, Tiller boy, or someone?
Either way, he wasn’t ready to saddle up and hit the long, lonely road outside. Until the injured traveler sat up in bed and called him out, Tiller had no plans to leave.
Mariah sprawled across her bed and sobbed. The sweet-faced old gentleman lying wounded downstairs stirred painful memories of her father writhing in pain for weeks.
She sent for Dr. Moony against Father’s wishes when a terrible cough began to wrack his thinning frame. Doc slipped from the room after the examination, peered into Mariah’s soul, and shook his head. He told her to allow Father his pipe. It wouldn’t matter.
Helpless, she stood by and watched as the burly man who raised her disappeared.
Clenching her fist, she gave her pillow a vicious whack. His death was a waste! The cruel disease an unwelcome guest stealing him pound by shocking pound, breath by gasping breath.
Mariah barely had time to accept his illness before he was gone. She wasn’t ready to lose him.
Startled, she sat up in bed, surprised she hadn’t thought of it sooner. Before long, Doc would ride out from Canton to check on Father’s condition. Dr. Moony would never believe the story she’d told Miss Vee.
Gripping her face, Mariah lay back in bed to figure a way out of her latest predicament. Except she couldn’t think straight with her heart and mind overflowing with memories.
No matter, she’d work out something before the doctor came nosing around. Whatever the cost, she’d find a way to keep Father’s death a secret for as long as possible.
"Tobias is here," Miss Vee called through her door.
Wiping her eyes, Mariah sat up and scooted off the bed. She opened the door, surprised to find Miss Vee still there.
Her penciled brows arched. "I’m getting a little concerned about you, honey. It’s not like you to hole up in your room."
Evidently, her efforts to hide her heartache were still lacking. "I’m fine. Just a little tired tonight, I suppose."
Miss Vee frowned. "You said the same thing earlier." She reached to cup Mariah’s cheek. "No fever. Still, you must be coming down with something. I could pack for a trip to Natchez in the bags under your eyes." She peered closer. "Sugar, have you been crying?"
Ducking her head, Mariah eased from her grasp. "We’d best get downstairs. If we don’t watch him, Tobias will bust up the headboard for kindling and build a ceremonial fire at the foot of the bed."
Miss Vee caught her hand as she passed. "A girl needs her mama, and I know how much you miss yours." Her smile brimmed with compassion. "If there’s anything you need to talk about, I’m a good listener."
Guilt an elephant on her chest, Mariah squeezed her fingers. "I’m grateful."
"Grateful for what? I love you like you’re
The wrinkled eyelids shot open, jolting Tiller’s heart. The stranger pointed a bony finger, his watery gaze locked on Tiller’s face.
Dread pitched his stomach. Now would come the anger. The accusation. A fast run to the door and a frantic ride out.
"Thank ye for helping me, son. I’m much obliged." Spent, his hand fell to the mattress, and his head lolled to the side, out like a candle in a draft.
Relief spreading warmth through his limbs, Tiller slumped in the chair. The old man didn’t remember him. Not this time. Would that change when his head cleared?
Tiller should run, no doubt about it. Roll up his pack, roust his horse, and get far away as fast as he could ride. So why couldn’t he bring himself to move?
Did he want to be caught? With his secret in the open, the threat of discovery wouldn’t loom like a guillotine blade.
He scrubbed his face with his hands then laced his trembling fingers behind his head. What kind of game was he playing, gambling with his life?
A need he didn’t understand held him within the comforting walls of Bell’s Inn. Something greater than common sense, stronger than fear. He glanced at his pale face in the dressing table mirror.
Something, Tiller boy, or someone?
Either way, he wasn’t ready to saddle up and hit the long, lonely road outside. Until the injured traveler sat up in bed and called him out, Tiller had no plans to leave.
Mariah sprawled across her bed and sobbed. The sweet-faced old gentleman lying wounded downstairs stirred painful memories of her father writhing in pain for weeks.
She sent for Dr. Moony against Father’s wishes when a terrible cough began to wrack his thinning frame. Doc slipped from the room after the examination, peered into Mariah’s soul, and shook his head. He told her to allow Father his pipe. It wouldn’t matter.
Helpless, she stood by and watched as the burly man who raised her disappeared.
Clenching her fist, she gave her pillow a vicious whack. His death was a waste! The cruel disease an unwelcome guest stealing him pound by shocking pound, breath by gasping breath.
Mariah barely had time to accept his illness before he was gone. She wasn’t ready to lose him.
Startled, she sat up in bed, surprised she hadn’t thought of it sooner. Before long, Doc would ride out from Canton to check on Father’s condition. Dr. Moony would never believe the story she’d told Miss Vee.
Gripping her face, Mariah lay back in bed to figure a way out of her latest predicament. Except she couldn’t think straight with her heart and mind overflowing with memories.
No matter, she’d work out something before the doctor came nosing around. Whatever the cost, she’d find a way to keep Father’s death a secret for as long as possible.
"Tobias is here," Miss Vee called through her door.
Wiping her eyes, Mariah sat up and scooted off the bed. She opened the door, surprised to find Miss Vee still there.
Her penciled brows arched. "I’m getting a little concerned about you, honey. It’s not like you to hole up in your room."
Evidently, her efforts to hide her heartache were still lacking. "I’m fine. Just a little tired tonight, I suppose."
Miss Vee frowned. "You said the same thing earlier." She reached to cup Mariah’s cheek. "No fever. Still, you must be coming down with something. I could pack for a trip to Natchez in the bags under your eyes." She peered closer. "Sugar, have you been crying?"
Ducking her head, Mariah eased from her grasp. "We’d best get downstairs. If we don’t watch him, Tobias will bust up the headboard for kindling and build a ceremonial fire at the foot of the bed."
Miss Vee caught her hand as she passed. "A girl needs her mama, and I know how much you miss yours." Her smile brimmed with compassion. "If there’s anything you need to talk about, I’m a good listener."
Guilt an elephant on her chest, Mariah squeezed her fingers. "I’m grateful."
"Grateful for what? I love you like you’re
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