Stolen Moments

            The ranch was quiet as the sun began setting on the horizon. The horses were finally quiet as Yelena Trotter closed the barn door. She locked the latch and dusted off the hay from her red cotton dress and began walking back to the house. The inn her father built inside their house was now near foreclosure. The economy wasn’t helping and with the new school the Governor built, taxes had been shot to sky high. Strangers who came to their small town rode right through to the next town.

            Yelena walked up the stairs and opened the door to find her father, Craig Trotter, wiping down the tables in the dining room. Although no one came around, he kept the place clean. Her father was a simple man who cherished those who mattered in life. Her mother passed away when she was young and he raised her on his own. She grew up wanting nothing but the simple pleasures of life and appreciating what she had at home. Her father was a gentle man with kind blue eyes and a head of brown hair. Unfortunately, she didn’t inherit her father’s looks. She got her mother’s mass of red curls and green eyes and a strong tongue. Often times, her father would tell her she looked exactly like her mother. She never knew her mother, but if she wanted to know, her father had told her to simply look in the mirror.

            “Did you lock up the barn?” her father asked.

            Nodding, she replied, “I did. You should get some rest. It’s late and I don’t think anyone is coming tonight or tomorrow, perhaps never.”

            He smiled and tossed the white towel over his shoulder. “Yelena, you have to look on the bright side. You can’t assume such things. You never know when the rainbow will show up.”

            She shrugged and headed up the stairs. “I’m going to take a bath.”

            The door burst open and her friend Emily Jackson walked in wearing a red velvet dress with her blonde curls cascading down her back. She kicked the door closed and ran to give her father a kiss on the cheek. Emily and she had been long time friends and sometimes rotten enemies. It depended on Emily’s mood and what events unfolded in their lives. Yelena sometimes thought Emily only remained friends with her so she could have free food and free rooming at the inn. She had trouble at her home with her mother and stepfather all the time and always came calling for help. It wasn’t that Yelena minded; it was more the fact that Emily never took her advice and history repeated itself.

            “You’re looking younger, Mr. Trotter!” Emily exclaimed.

            Her father smiled. “You’re teasing me, Emily.”

            Emily turned her attention to Yelena. “I thought I’d come to keep you company tonight.”

            Yelena forced a smile. “Of course, I was just going to take a bath. You can keep father company for now.”

            Emily beamed. “I will!”

 

            Yelena chose a blue cotton dress to wear and pulled her hair back into a low bun as she walked out of her room. It was oddly quiet as she came down the stairs. Usually Emily’s voice was booming loudly with stories and she was giggling wildly. It was too quiet that the hairs on her back stood up. She rounded the corner and saw that the dining room was empty.

            “Dad?” she called out.

            A hand came from behind her and slammed against her lips. “Don’t make a sound or I’ll gut you like a fish. Nod if you understand me.”

            She swallowed fear and tears as she nodded. She heard him mutter something and then she was being pushed toward the kitchen where she found her father tied to a chair. He was bleeding from his forehead from a blunt object it looked like. Emily’s mouth was stuffed and she was tied to a chair in the corner. The look in her eyes was pure fright and she didn’t argue with her on that. Another man entered through the back kitchen door and tied her hands in behind her. When she was turned around she faced a man who had severe scarring on the left side of his face. She swallowed and looked away as he shoved her forward. Her foot caught the hem of her dress and she fell forward. She closed her eyes to brace the pain when she felt a pair of strong arms catch her around the waist and pulled her to her feet. Yelena turned around to find a pair of soft brown eyes looking deep into hers. He was wearing all black and sported short cropped sandy brown hair.

            “You all right?” he asked in a deep voice.

            She shook herself free from his hold and tried to walk to her father, but he grabbed her again. “Let me go!”

            “You’re staying right here with me.”

            “Like hell I am!”

            “Do as he says, Yelena!” her father yelled.

            She swung her head toward her father and then back at the stranger. “What do you want?”

            He smiled. “Nothing you can’t provide.”

            She gasped and wiggled even more until he let her go. “You came to the wrong place, mister. We don’t offer those services here. Get out of here before I call the sheriff!”

            He laughed. “I’m not sure what services you think I am here for, but all I want is a hot meal and a comfortable bed. Is this not an inn?”

            She swallowed hard. “It is, but we don’t serve customers who take advantage of the owners.”

            He laughed again and this time his eyes twinkled. “Ah, see that’s where we got off on the wrong foot. Your father here took one look at me and recognized me from the wanted poster. Things got a little rough and my boy here had to settle things down his way. No harm done.”

            Yelena turned to look at her father. She turned back to him and squared her shoulders. “Still, you’re not welcome here. You can ride on down a few miles. There’s a nice comfortable inn at Dottie’s. We’re low on food.”

            “Not a problem. My boys here bagged us a large deer. You can cook, right?”

            “No.”

            He sighed and cleared his throat. “Perhaps I’m not making myself clear here, lassie. We’re not leaving. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I will if you force me to.”

            “Yelena, take the boys upstairs to the rooms available,” her father said.

            “Dad!” she cried.

            “Do it!”

            She turned back around and glared at him. “Untie me.”

            “No.”

            She raised her brows. “No? How am I going to cook food for you with my hands tied?”

            “I’m not untying you until I see a room.”

 

            She could feel their eyes on the back of her as she walked up the stairs. It was hard walking up the stairs without her hands to lift her dress up. When she tripped for the fourth time, the man who she had spoken to picked her up and marched up the stairs. She struggled against him as he reached the top and plopped her on her feet.

            “I could walk up here just fine!” she cried.

            “Yeah, in four weeks with the way you were going. Now show us the rooms,” he ordered.

            She rolled her eyes and darted toward the end. She walked to the closed door and stood there as the three men reached her. “You can occupy this room and the two other ones next door. There is fresh linen in the closet and towels in the cabinet. Now let me go.”

            He smiled and spun her around. He untied her and she felt her shoulders release the ache from being tied. To her surprise, he took her hands and massaged her wrists where welts were beginning to form.

            “I apologize for this,” he said.

            She yanked her hands free. “Apologize to my father for hitting him.”

            “It had to be done. He was going to shoot me. I’m too young to die.”

            She scoffed and marched toward the stairs. He reached her in three strides and spun her around. He slammed her against his chest and when she tried to struggle, he leaned in closer. She brought up her hands to push him back.

            “Let me go!” she cried.

            “You’re not going anywhere out of my sight. I don’t trust you.”

            “You’re violating me in my house! How dare you talk about trust?”

            He laughed. “Violating? I have not violated you yet, lassie. If I did, you wouldn’t be able to walk straight.”

            She blushed and shoved him away. “Stop calling me lassie! My name is Yelena.”

            “Yelena…I like the sound of that. It’s exotic…like a stolen kiss. Well, Yelena, I’m Tom Hardy.”