She stepped back, her heel hitting a charred support beam. Silas moved in, pressing her against the black wood. He raised a hand, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw, his grip tightening until it was painful. Do not play the innocent, Maggie. We both know what you are.
I am offering you a soft landing. The touch of his hand on her skin snapped something inside her. The fear evaporated, replaced by a cold, white hot fury. She brought her knee up, driving it hard into his groin. Silas doubled over with a wheezing gasp as his head came down.
Maggie rad her fingernails across his face, digging deep, drawing four lines of bright red blood across his cheek. She shoved him backward. He stumbled over the debris and fell into a pile of wet ash, ruining his fine suit. I would rather die in the dirt," she hissed, standing over him, looking like a vengeful fury in the gloom. "I would rather starve on this land than let a man like you touch me again. " Silus scrambled up, clutching his face, his eyes wide with shock and rage.
He touched his cheek, looking at the blood on his fingers. "You will regret that," he snarled, his voice losing its smooth polish. "You will beg me. I will see you in the gutter where you belong. Get out, she screamed, grabbing the heavy iron poker from the fireplace.
He fled. He scrambled out of the house and into his buggy, whipping the horse into a frenzy. Maggie stood in the ruin of her home, the poker shaking in her hand, the adrenaline crashed, leaving her trembling. She sank to the floor, the soot staining her dress, and let out a sob that tore at her throat. She was alone.
Eli was gone. The house was broken. She sat there as the darkness gathered, feeling the weight of the sky pressing down on the roof. Two hours later, she heard horses again. Many horses.
She scrambled up, gripping the poker, expecting Silus's men to come and finish the job. But it was Deputy Miller, a young man with a kind face who had always looked uncomfortable around the sheriff. And with him was Eli. Eli was handcuffed, his face gray with exhaustion, but he was alive. 5 minutes.
Mrs. Mercer, the deputy said, looking nervously at the road. The sheriff is drinking at the saloon. I told him I had to bring the prisoner back to collect his medication for his leg. If he finds out, "Thank you," Maggie whispered.
They went into the barn. The house was too open, too scarred. The barn was their place. It smelled of hay and animals. a living, breathing warmth. The deputy waited outside.
Eli looked at her. He saw the soot on her face, the tear in her dress, the wildness in her eyes. "Did he hurt you? " Eli asked, his voice a dangerous rumble. "He tried? " she said. "I heard him back," Eli let out a ragged breath.
He raised his cuffed hands, reaching for her. Maggie stepped into the circle of his arms, burying her face in his neck. They clung to each other. It was not a hug. It was a collision.