Read Online Heart of the Country by Tricia Stringer - Free Book Online Page A

a movement to the edge of his vision. He slid his hand down for the knife he’d tucked under the canvas and jumped up, ready to lunge.
    â€œSeptimus, it’s me, Harriet.”
    He froze and gaped at the small figure in front of him. The clothes were those of a man but there was no mistaking the soft voice and battered face belonged to Harriet.
    â€œBut …”
    â€œYou must have thought I was dead.” Harriet placed a steaming mug of tea in front of him and stepped back. “Is that how I got in the water? I don’t think I could have crawled there myself.”
    Septimus didn’t speak. Harriet moved away around the fire. He noticed her steps were careful and deliberate. He kept the knife in his hand at his side and watched her like he would a snake in his camp.
    She picked up another mug and stood gazing into the fire. “I sure wished I was dead.” Then she looked directly at him through swollen lids. “I don’t know how you got me here but that dousing in the water saved my life.”
    Septimus still didn’t move. The water had cleaned her up. All the mud and blood was gone; just the bruising remained. She might be lucky and not have permanent damage although the nose would never be straight again. Dressed in the men’s trousers and shirt she looked as if she could blow away in a breeze. He looked down at the tea by his feet then snapped his head up.
    â€œThey’re my clothes,” he snarled. “I was going to sell them.”
    â€œThey were out on the ground in a pile. I’m sorry about the filth, I …” Harriet’s voice trembled. “I’ve washed some and aired the rest.” She nodded to the trees behind the wagon where he could see the various shirts and trousers draped about.
    â€œYou can’t be here.”
    â€œI might be able to repair my dress if you have needle and thread.”
    â€œYou can keep the clothes but you can’t stay.” He’d give up the shirt and trousers just to be rid of her.
    â€œWhere will I go?”
    â€œI don’t care where you go. Head back that way.” He indicated the track his wagon wheels had made in the gaps between the large gums. “I’m not getting into trouble over you.”
    Harriet sighed and bent to the fire. She poked at something on the edge and the delicious smell of hot bread reached his nose.
    â€œNobody knows I’m here,” she said. “Like you, they thought I was dead.”
    Septimus scowled at her. There was no way he wanted this piece of damaged goods anywhere near him.
    â€œI could help you,” she said.
    He snorted. “I work alone.”
    She walked towards him, each step placed carefully. She pressed a chunk of the hot bread into his hand. “I’m fourteen now.” Her tattered lips tugged up into a smile. “Today’s my birthday.”
    He took a bite of the bread. It was good.
    â€œBesides,” she said, “now we’re both running away from things we don’t want others to know about, aren’t we, Seth ?”
    He dropped the bread and was on her in an instant. He twisted her in front of him, bringing the knife up to her throat.
    â€œI could just as easy slit your throat and drop you back in that pool,” he snarled in her ear. “If everyone thinks you’re already dead they won’t be looking for you.”
    She went limp in his arms. “Killing me could be the best thing for both of us.”
    Septimus held her a moment then thrust her away. She stumbled and moaned as she fell in the dirt. He picked up the bread and shoved the rest of it into his mouth, then sat down again. He chewed and kept one eye on her. The dough was soft and sweet, like Harriet had once been, far better than the damper he made himself. She slowly picked herself up. He took a slurp of the tea. It was strong and black, just the way he liked it.
    â€œI can cook and keep things clean while you do