Page 13 of His Texas Home
Which was why I hadn’t told them.
Eventually, my thoughts got scary enough that I whipped my hand out to grab the book…and immediately felt guilty over the fact that I splashed water all over it. Much to my relief, it seemed the book had already met a bathtub; the pages were a little warped, ink smeared on a page or two.
It was only then that I stopped thinking.
Stopped reading.
Let myself fall into the story, into another world where the girl actually loved the man she married…
And the man in that book? I didn’t want to admit it, knew it was wrong…
…but he looked like Forrest Holt.
SIX
Forrest
Willa’s people didn’t show up for three days.
There wasn’t anything about a missing girl…the cops weren’t contacted. And that made sense, because I was starting to realize that nothing about what they were doing out there was legal.
The sheriff’s office wouldn’t stop them…but they wouldn’t help them either.
On some level, that pissed me off. Peg and Adam had been in their ear for years—they’re keeping girls out there, they don’t leave the property, something’s wrong—and they’d just said it wasn’t their business. And now? What if Willa had ended up with someone dangerous?
As far as the rest of the world was concerned, the women on that homestead were invisible.
Not to us though. Not to me.
It was about eleven when I got the call; Stetson had been out in the woods by the east fenceline with Buck, Wyatt was checking out the cattle, Gage was tending to business. Stetson called me first, then he told me to grab Gage at the house.
I knew right then and there what was happening.
And I also knew I needed to tell Willa.
I found her in her room—the deadbolt locked. I knocked, and her muffled voice came from inside…then I heard footsteps.
She opened the door and—it was strange—it occurred to me that she’d started to look like a person.
Not that she hadn’t been a person before…she had, of course. But when I’d first seen her, she looked like a feral thing out of some past era, with her tattered modest dress, her tangled hair, her wild eyes. Now, in an old t-shirt and running shorts, her hair up in a messy bun, she looked?—
Damn it.
I thought she looked pretty again.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
The blankets were mussed. That book she’d been reading was cracked open on the bed, flipped upside down to keep her place.
“Yeah,” I said. “I mean—no. Not really. Just want you to stay put for a minute. Keep the door locked…maybe stay away from the windows.”
Her face fell. “No,” she said. “They’re here?”
“Just got a call from Stetson,” I said. “Listen—Willa, you have nothing to be afraid of. We’re not gonna tell them you’re here or otherwise. And I’m gonna leave Nickel here to keep watch.”
She didn’t look like she believed me at first…but then she nodded. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll stay put.”
“Good girl,” I murmured, and started to turn away?—
