Renegades and Stubborn Pride (sequal to Renegades and Pretty Women)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

 

                Bart was in trouble. He had messed up royally. Seems ‘His Royal Mess-up’ is what his whore of a mama should have named him.

                Bart had only meant to help. He had thought that if he came around the backside of the fort where he could better see the tiny exit from the cellars then he might be able to help Joe and Clayton if they came out this way. Or possibly even figure out how to get in and help from the inside.

                He had been tired of simply standing around and being in the way. He had been tired of the angry glares and the annoyed sighs whenever he tried to speak. He had been desperate to redeem himself and in doing so he might very well have just signed the death certificates of those that he loved… because he did love Clayton and Joe. He loved them something fierce.

                He had had the best of intentions. They had been true and pure and good… But then his mission to be helpful had been interrupted by the butt of a rifle cracking against the back of his head and now he was drifting in and out of consciousness as two men dragged him by the arms into the fort. At least he knew now that there were only three unaccounted for men in the mansion instead of five. Of course the mansion seemed to be directly where these two bastards were taking him.

                Bart was dragged inside, his feet trying desperately to gain traction and his legs fighting to stand on their own as they crossed the marble foyer and then passed down a hall before entering a large dining room.

                The table was vast and laid out with breakfast for those seated there. Bart’s eyes were fighting to close, not wanting to remain open any longer, but somehow he made them as he looked around the table and when his eyes fell on Joe and he saw the shock, dread and anger on her face, he knew he in a whole hell of a lot of trouble.

***

                “This breakfast is positively delicious.” Joe said as she wiped at the corners of her lips with her napkin. They had been in here for what had to be close to two hours and she was growing tired of the act. Tired of forcing this politeness toward the woman who had been so cruel to her son.

Scarlett smiled before sipping at her tea. “I have two of the best cooks in this country in my kitchens. My late husband left me with a small fortune when he was murdered and I have made the most of it.”           

                “Murdered?” Joe gasped, feigning shock. “How dreadful.”

                Scarlett nodded, her big brown eyes filling with a mixture of sadness, rage and what could only be described as insanity. It became very clear to Joe then that Scarlett had changed in one very important way in the last five years. She had, quite literally, lost her mind.

                “My Harmon was a good man. A loving and kind man who saw to my every need. And then one night he was kidnapped and murdered by a vile woman who was only angry that he did not want her.” Joe wanted to offer a snide remark but she felt a pain in her shin when the Sheriff kicked her under the table and stopped her from doing so. “I do not wish to talk about that woman though.” Scarlett stated. “I prefer to remember the amazing man my husband was.”