Hope by Lori Copeland

darted off, investigating.
    She hadn’t heard Grunt calling her name for some time. She’d made it. Thank you, God, thank you, God, thank you, God—
    She yelped when she suddenly felt herself yanked to her feet and a large, warm hand clamped over her mouth.
    “You are sorely testing my patience,” a rough voice rasped in her ear.
    Her heart was thumping a mile a minute as he whirled her around and steadied her on her feet, none too gently. She blinked, weak with relief when she saw it was Grunt, not Big Joe, Boris, or Frog. His face was a storm cloud. “Don’t you have a lick of sense?”
    She tried to break his hurtful hold. “Let me go! You’re not like the others. You’re intelligent; you have a quality the others don’t have—” She wrenched free. “Don’t do this!”
    “If I let you go, you’ll be dead by morning.” He took her by the shoulders and gently shook her. To her surprise, she saw concern in his eyes. “Why did you disobey me?”
    “Please—”
    “No.”
    She clamped her teeth together. She was wrong about him. He was just as mean and ornery and bullheaded as Big Joe, Frog, and Boris put together. Her heart sank. She was doomed. She had failed at her escape, and they would watch her closer than ever now.
    “Come on. You’re going to catch your death out here.” Keeping her firmly in check, he turned her in the direction of the cabin. Stopping at the shelter, he picked up his rifle and the squirrels, then continued forcing her ahead of him.
    Despair enveloped her. She was going to die here in these awful woods. No one would know where she was or what had happened to her. If Grunt didn’t strangle her, the others would.
    “Please let me go,” she chattered between breaths.
    “You’re staying with me.” He latched on to her ear and marched her toward the cabin.
    “Ouch . . . you’re hurting me!”
    “Just walk, Miss Ferry.”
    She was sopping wet, and her teeth were knocking together so hard she couldn’t argue. It seemed like hours later when he finally shoved her inside the cabin. “Ouch, ouch, ouch!” Wrestling out of Grunt’s grip, she stood in the middle of the floor, thick mud caked on her thin shoes, the hem of her dress dripping a stream.
    Big Joe sprang up from the table, overturning a chair. His features were tight. “Where have you been!”
    Lifting her chin, she crossed her arms.
    She stumbled when Grunt pushed her closer to the fire. “Had a bear tracking us. Fired off a couple of rounds, but he dogged us most of the day. Had to hole up until we could shake him.”
    Hope gravitated toward the fire, seeking its warmth. His excuse barely registered with her. She needed blankets, hot coffee.
    “A bear?” Boris sat up from his bedroll. “Did you git ’im?”
    Grunt motioned toward Hope. “She needs dry clothes and something to eat. Now.”
    Boris grumbled but rolled to his feet and stoked the fire. Big Joe opened the suitcase and pushed it across the floor to her. She fished around for a clean dress and underclothing.
    The men busied themselves with the squirrels. Grunt rigged a rope and draped a blanket over it, then heated water on the stove. Stepping behind the makeshift curtain, Hope removed her wet clothing, shaking so hard her hands refused to cooperate.
    “Wrap a blanket around yourself.” She froze when she heard Grunt’s deep baritone on the other side of the blanket.
    “What?”
    “Wrap a blanket around yourself. I have a hot bath drawn.”
    Hope closed her eyes, so grateful she wanted to cry. Hot water. She picked up a second blanket and secured it tightly around her. A wooden tub slid behind the curtain.
    She heard the front door close as the men stepped outside to allow her privacy. Climbing into the water, she sank down, allowing the steaming vapors to envelop her. Her body cried out with relief and she sighed, sliding deeper into the comforting warmth.
    It occurred to her that Grunt had been out in the cold rain all day searching for her.