Renegade's Heart by Michelle Kidd (general ebook reader .TXT) 📕

“Shot!” Frankie attempted to raise her head, but searing pain exploded through her skull. The word bounced around her mind as awareness filtered through her pain-fogged memory. The shootout. Seth.

Seth!  She eased her head against the pillow, squeezing her eyes shut to hold back tears. 

“I’m Misty,” the young voice repeated. “Do you remember me from the day at the bank? You were the one holding the horses.”

What? What was the child babbling about? Through grief, Frankie felt small hands patting her arm.  She jerked away from the touch.

“No, I don’t! Leave me alone!” She tried to shout, but the effort made her head hurt worse. Why was it so dark?  She moved her hands to her face. Frantic, she clawed at whatever blocked her vision. Nothing hindered her—her eyes were opened wide. Her mind scrambled to make sense of it.

“I . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to  . . . upset you. Please don’t get angry. It’s a miracle you’re alive.  I’ve been praying for you every day.”

Frankie nearly strangled on the word. Miracle! “Some miracle. Save your prayers, kid. I don’t believe in them.”

The sputtering silence told Frankie she’d made her point. It felt good to strike at something. The ache in her heart demanded revenge. Her targets were limited for the moment.

“Let me fetch, Pa.”

“Yeah, you do that!” Frankie tossed at the sound of running feet.

A door slammed. Frankie listened to the tearful voice calling for her pa. It grew fainter as the child’s feet carried her to some unknown destination. 

Get up—run before they realize who you are an internal voice urged. Why was she still lying here?   Frankie forced her body upright, but nausea started her heaving.  She clutched her head and fought back bile. It seemed to take forever, but at least she’d struggled to a vertical position with her feet on the floor.  She muttered a curse that would have scorched Big Sam’s ears.

Big Sam! He’d left her to die—the mangy coward!  Anger and hate swelled inside her chest combining into an intense urge for revenge.  She’d make sure he paid, so help her. The rage, the pain, it was too much. Suddenly the meager contents of her stomach hurdled upward. There was nothing there, but the spasms wracked her body, leaving her weak. Her crumpled body slid to the floor.

Frankie must have passed out. She had the sudden awareness of being lifted and placed on the bed. 

“There now. What were you trying to do? You’re hardly in the shape for getting up just yet.”

Despite the darkness swimming before her, the image of the bluest eyes she’d ever seen appeared in her mind. 

“I left Misty outside, so we might talk. She’s pretty upset.”

Frankie sensed the weight of the bed dip as he sat down. “You’ve been through a lot. I get that, but you’ve got no cause to be rough with the girl. She’s just trying to help.”

“I don’t want anyone’s help.” She turned her face away from him. “Why can’t I see?”  

She heard his sharp intake of breath. “Nothing?” 

“Nothing,” she replied.

Silence. 

A log sputtered from the hearth. A clock from somewhere in the room counted off the silent minutes.  One. Two. Three. “I’m not sure. The fever may have caused a temporary blindness, let’s hope your vision clears.”

“What are you saying? You can’t mean this might be . . . permanent.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s too early to know.  Miss, you’re lucky to be alive. I . . . well, I had to bury that young fellow you were with. I thought I’d have to do the same for you. Looks like you’ve made it through the worst of it.”

“You’ll pardon me if I don’t do flips around the room.”

“Look  . . . miss—”

“Frankie. The name’s Frankie.” 

“And the young man . . .”

Her heart ached at the mere mention of her Seth. What was it to him?

“Was he a  . . . sweetheart?”

Sweetheart!  “No! My brother.”

“Brother!” She detected a note of surprise in his voice, as he continued, “I-I’m sorry.  So how did you and your brother find yourself up at the top of my ridge? Why were you posing as a boy that day in town? I know you were with those men that robbed the bank.”

“So.” She kept her face turned from the sound of his voice.

“You aren’t going to deny it?”

“Sounds like you’ve already figured things out, mister.” Her tone sounded flat.

He blew a stream of air out and tried again. “I’m giving you a chance to tell your side of the story. I just want to hear the truth. Why were you with those outlaws? How did you and your brother get shot?”

Frankie picked up on a subtle plea in his voice. It was impossible to read his expression, but she heard an undertone that whispered for her to deny the obvious. Why disappoint him? “They forced us, okay? We were kidnapped and made to help them.  Once they got what they wanted, they shot us.”  The lie rolled off her tongue as easily as it did when she charmed her way into those vaults. Survival skills took over. The first thing this do-gooder would do is turn her over to the sheriff.  And she wasn’t about to rot in some cell while Big Stan ran free.

“Who were these men? Did they . . . harm you?”

Was this guy for real? “No, nothing like that. They used us and disposed of us.” That part was true enough. “Look, mister, I’m tired. I don’t want to talk about it. If you don’t mind . . .”

“Daniel.”

“What?”

“My name is Daniel. Daniel Myers. And I apologize if I jumped to the wrong conclusion. I needed to know your involvement. I’ve got Misty to consider. You know how it is . . . a father needs to protect his little girl.”

A stab of something like jealousy flickered through her. Frankie didn’t know. Frankie had no idea. She wondered what it would be like to have a parent who cared about someone other than his own stinking hide.

“Just one more thing . . . did you get any clue who these men were? I mean what outfit they’re with?”

Frankie’s tongue darted out to wet her cracked lips. “I can identify him, alright.  Stan McNeill.  He’s the parasite that killed my brother and left us for dead.”

***

The words punched Daniel like a fist to the gut.  Not possible! Blood drained from his face. His thoughts flew to Misty outside alone.  Common sense told him the gang would be long gone, but he couldn’t afford to make the same mistake.

“I’d better check on Misty.” He rose with abruptness and hurried to the door. His shoulders sagged with relief when he spotted her sitting in the dirt. The flock of chickens pecked around her skirt as she petted and crooned over them.

Exhaling a breath he’d been unaware he’d been holding, Daniel measured his steps, and walked outside to join her.  With a booted foot, he shooed several of the hens away and took a moment to collect his thoughts before easing himself beside her.  “Here you are.”

She dropped a line of corn on the ground and watched several hens snatch up the kernels before answering. “I’m fine.”  The red splotches on her cheeks told him she’d been crying.

“Let’s give her a little time.  She’s been through a lot.”

“I know.” She sniffed.

“I need to tell you something.” He waited until he held her attention before continuing. “I didn’t want to upset you before . . . especially when it didn’t look as if she’d make it. Misty, I buried her brother up on that ridge. There was nothing I could do.”

“Oh!” Her eyes welled with fresh tears. “Does she know?”

“She does. But she’s going to need our patience. She told me those men kidnapped her and her brother.”

“How awful.” Her hands flew to her cheeks. “I ought not run off like that.”

“Well . . . I’ve always heard hurting people hurt others. We may need to give her space for a while.”

“Oh, I will, Pa.  I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sure she’ll come around once she’s had time to reflect. That’s a lot to wake up to. Give her a wide berth for now, okay?”

Misty nodded, drying her eyes with the back of her hand. “Is she going to be blind?”

“I’m hoping it is temporary. It’s possible the high fever caused it. I hope that’s all it is. You let me worry about that—you just keep praying for her.”

A cloud passed over her face. “She told me to keep my prayers. I don’t think she wants them.”

He chucked her under the chin. “Darl’n, that’s when folks need them the most. They just don’t recognize it.”

“I guess.”

He cocked his head and expressed mock surprise. “This isn’t the same girl that’s been lecturing me on God’s purpose. I can’t believe you’d let a little redhead's sharp tongue steal your joy?” 

She laughed. “No.”

“There’s that smile. How about getting together dinner while I finish up what I was doing.  Can you do that?”

She nodded; her face brightening.

“That’s my girl.”  He smiled for her benefit, but the expression melted to a frown once she entered the cabin. Lord, what are you doing?  Daniel didn’t believe in coincidences. Why had He brought this woman here? Something didn’t ring true. The bigger question: what was Stan McNeill doing back in these parts? One thing’s for sure, he’d keep his shotgun ready. The next time he saw the man he’d kill him.

 Despite her instincts to run, Frankie realized she’d never get far in her present condition. Her world consisted of two things now, darkness and pain. The empty void served to heighten the intensity. A throbbing in her skull kept tempo with the pounding of her heart, and the tiniest touch ignited a crushing ache throughout her entire body. It was all she could manage to lie on the bed and hope her stomach didn’t start convulsing again.  Worse than the physical discomfort was the burning loss of Seth. His death would not go without retaliation. It fueled her will to fight, and it kept her from caving to the insurmountable obstacles that kept her from achieving her goal—revenge.

The story she’d told the farmer bought her time. She’d lay low, recuperate, and when she was able, she’d leave and hunt down Big Sam. She despised weakness of any kind. Forced to depend on the kindness of strangers was a predicament that didn’t set well with her at all. She resented it and lashed out at the girl to show she wanted no part of their sympathies. No way would she stand for losing her sight. Vision or no, she’d get better, find the man who’d left her and Seth for dead, and when she did he’d pay with his life.

The door to the cabin groaned open. Frankie pretended to sleep to avoid having further confrontation. The less contact she had with these Appalachian mountaineers, the better. She well remembered the chatty girl from the day at the bank and her father with eyes the color of an April sky. Impossible to forget. They’d almost gotten themselves caught in the cross-fire.

 Frankie recalled a woman being with them too. She bristled with unexpected dislike. She didn’t know who the perky blond