Agnes and the Renegade (Men of Defiance) Read Free Page B

shifted her gaze from the windows in the main area of the cabin to the one above her bed. As she watched, something walked in front of it, briefly blocking the light.
    Something tall and solid.
    She gathered herself close to the wall, hoping whoever was looking in wouldn’t see her. But they could from the other windows. Summoning her courage, she slowly raised herself to look out of the window over her bed. The moonlight was bright, casting sharp shadows over the outhouse and chopping block. Everything was calm and still outside. Perhaps the shadow she’d seen had been a cloud slipping over the moon.
    She closed the shutters and bolted them. It took her senses a moment to acclimate to the new darkness now that most of the moonlight was blocked by the shutters. She held herself still and tried to calm her breathing as she watched the other two windows, her ears straining for any unusual sounds. She needed to close and bolt the shutters on the other windows as well, but she dreaded crossing the room. For several minutes, while she waited and listened, there was no movement and no strange sounds outside. In fact, everything had gone very, very quiet.
    Gathering her courage, she climbed off her bed and crossed her cabin, hurrying to the first window. She paused against the wall, then spun around and slammed the shutters closed. After running to the other side of the cabin, she grabbed the shutters and was about to repeat the action when a face appeared in the window. A painted face. An Indian warrior’s face. She screamed and banged the shutters closed, dropping the bolt over them. She backed away from the window, scrambling into the center of her cabin. Her gaze bounced around the small space as she sought safe refuge, but there was none to be had.
    Oh, God. She was alone, all alone, hours and hours from the nearest ranch.  
    She closed her eyes and saw again the terrible image of the face on the other side of the window. Her heart was like a sledgehammer in her chest. How many of them were out there? She’d thought this land was settled, but clearly it was not. What were their intentions? If they wanted to get inside her cabin, there was little she could do to stop them.  
    She stood in the center of the cabin’s only room, wondering what she should do. Not knowing how many there were, she wasn’t safe attempting to escape from one of the windows. And there was nowhere in the small cabin that she could hide. She was heaving air in rapid, terrified gasps, adrift in the darkness of her cabin.
    If they were coming in, it was most likely they’d come through the door. She moved the two chairs to the same side of the table, then huddled beneath it. If they got in, she’d run out while they were looking through the cabin.  
    A terrible noise cut into her terror. They were banging on her front door. It was barred by only a foot-long piece of wood that dropped into the handle on the jamb. It wasn’t a wide piece of bar that went across the entire opening. Obviously, it had been made to secure the door from the wind, not marauding Indians.
    The banging sounded again. The door rattled and jumped. Someone was bludgeoning it with an ax. Oh, God. Aggie watched helplessly from her cover under the table. The wood wouldn’t take much more abuse.
    And it didn’t. After the next blow, it swung open. Aggie shut her eyes, instinctively worried the intensity of her gaze would draw the intruders to her hiding spot. The first one through the door moved quietly on moccasined feet—quietly but not silently to ears straining for the slightest sound. Those feet came straight toward her. The chairs scraped the floor as they were thrust aside. The table over her head was lifted and tossed into the room.
    The warrior grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. Aggie cried and pleaded, resisting his relentless grip as she drew back against the wall, then fear paralyzed her, freezing her in place. She didn’t struggle, didn’t fight him. It