ROMANCE: Badass Boss (Billionaire Alpha Bad Boy Romance) (Western Mail Order Bride Calendar Contemporary) (70 page)

Her uncle's paintings still hung on the walls. Mary-Jane only had vague memories of her uncle, but she remembered him being a nice man. Her mother rarely spoke of him, but occasionally Mary-Jane caught her staring longingly at the paintings, and she wondered what had happened. One day she was sure that she would find out, when her mother was ready to reveal the truth. Big, sturdy bookcases stood against the wall as well, filled with all manner of reading material. One of their family traditions was to read to each other one night a week. They would work their way through a book, each reading a chapter at a time. Some books were good, some were terribly mundane, but they all brought them closer as a family, and that was a welcome feeling.

Annabelle took the water from Mary-Jane's arms and the young woman stretched, glad of the relief. The bucket had dug into her skin and left deep marks, which would fade soon. Her muscles, although they had become used to the task of carrying the water over the years, still ached a little. She took an apple from the bowl and took a deep bite, enjoying the satisfying crunch that came with it.

“I've been doing it for years now, if nothing has happened to me now then I don't think it will. I'm perfectly safe.”

“I'm sure that's what Ruth said too, and all the others,” her mother snapped. Ruth was the name of one of the girls who had been taken. Nobody had ever seen her again and she was believed to be dead, and while the savages had been blamed for abducting her there had never actually been any evidence to prove that supposition.

“Nobody has been taken for years. If there were any wild men out in the desert I'm sure they've moved on now, or they've died.”

“That's probably what they want us to think, want to lull us into a false sense of security. That's what these people do, you know. The world is a dangerous place and there's always something lurking around every corner.”

“Why do you always say that mother? You have lived just as sheltered life as me, and there hasn't been anything bad that has happened to us. Yes, there were bandits raiding the town when I was younger, but since then nothing has happened. Are you sure you are not just overreacting?”

“Oh, so now wanting to keep my daughter safe is overreacting?”

“I didn't mean it like that,” Mary-Jane said, trying to keep her voice soft. Sometimes talking to her mother could be difficult for she often flew off the handle and became defensive. Mary-Jane placed a hand on her arm and squeezed it gently. “I'm glad you've always looked out for me, but I don't understand your attitude sometimes. The world isn't all dangerous. There's so much beauty and wonder to be had as well.”

“You're getting that tone again.”

“What tone?”

“The ‘I want to leave’ tone.”

Mary-Jane went silent and continued to eat her apple. “I know that you want to see the rest of the world but it's not that simple,” her mother continued, “you know what your father is like. He likes to keep us here together, where he can keep us safe. And you know the rest of the world is mostly the same as this. Everywhere you turn there are people.”

“But there are different people. But look at this,” Mary-Jane said, turning to one of her uncle's paintings, “this is so beautiful, but I've never seen anything like it.”

“Your uncle did have a good eye for things,” Annabelle said wistfully.

“What happened to him?”

For a moment Mary-Jane thought that her mother was going to answer her question, but suddenly she clamped her lips shut and turned away, then ordered Mary-Jane to get on with more chores. Mary-Jane sighed and carried on with her day, her thoughts constantly of the future. Would she be doing the same things in five years until her youth had slipped by and the sweet innocent beauty withered and died? It was a saddening thought, but one which seemed likely to come true if something drastic was not done.

As evening approached, the heavy smell of cooked meat rose through the house. Mary-Jane was attracted to the kitchen, and managed to sneak a scrap of meat from the stove while her mother wasn't looking. It was tender and juicy and only made her ravenous for more, but she would have to wait for her father to return home before dinner could be served.

Thankfully, he was home on time. Mary-Jane heard his heavy footsteps approach and she ran to greet him. She had to admit, the sheriff's outfit suited him. For years he had toiled at various occupations until finally he had won the role of deputy, a role he had been built for. He was a tall, strong man with broad shoulders and a square jaw. His voice rumbled, and many times in her youth he had bellowed at her, striking the fear of God into her. She had heard him use the same voice with criminals, and she recognized the expression on their face.

It was easy to tell he had been a handsome man in his youth, and the harsh air had made him rugged. Spider-web lines spread out from the corners of his eyes and his skin had a deep, sandy tan. The guns on his belt clinked as he walked, and the silver star shone, forever polished, as it rested against his heart. It had been a sad day when the old sheriff died. A few bandits were attacking the wagons as they left the city, laying siege to the town. The old sheriff had been a man named Joseph. He was a good man, but he was not a hard man, and not ruthless like her father could be. He tried to bargain with the bandits and come to a peaceful solution, but they double-crossed him, as bandits are wont to do, and his body was riddled with bullets.

‘This is our town now’ a note said, attached to the limp, lifeless body of the sheriff as his horse returned to town. At that moment her father, Wayne Parker, took the sheriff's badge and tried a different tack. There was barely anyone in the world who knew the surrounding territory like her father, so in the dead of night he crept out and before the bandits knew anything he had already killed two of them. The rest followed in swift order. He struck with deadly force and not a single bullet was wasted.

After a few more attacks like that, word spread about the fearsome sheriff and no-one had dared to attack their town again. He was lauded as a hero and such praise was also bestowed upon his family as well, so Mary-Jane was held in high regard, even though she did not think she deserved it. But she was proud of her father, and never tired of hearing of the story of the night when he had become sheriff.

He set his hat on the arm of his chair and kissed Mary-Jane on the cheek, then went to his wife and did the same, but this time on her lips.

“Smells good,” he said.

“It won't be long,” Annabelle replied.

“I wasn't talking about the food,” he quickly said with a teasing look in his eyes and a wicked smile across his face. Mary-Jane cringed, hating to think of her parents as frolicking teenagers.

“What am I going to do with you?” Annabelle said.

“I don't know, but please keep it a secret until I'm not here,” Mary-Jane interrupted, moving between them to get some cutlery out of the drawer and placing it around the table. The two parents grinned at each other.

“You should be glad that your parents still have a healthy appreciation for each other! One day you'll understand,” Wayne said, with a hint of laughter in his voice.

“I'm not sure about that,” Mary-Jane muttered.

“I didn't quite catch that.”

“It's nothing.”

“No, what did you say?”

“It's nothing, honestly, it doesn't mean a thing.”

“Mary-Jane, tell me what you said. Now.”

Her father's mood turned from jovial to stern in an instant. Annabelle tried to quell his mood, but he ignored her. Mary-Jane rolled her eyes and blew out her cheeks.

“I said that I wasn't so sure I would know what it's like one day.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You know what I mean.” It felt as though the two of them had had the same argument so many times before, and now they were saying the same things to each other over and over again without either of them coming to some middle ground.

“I have told you that I shall arrange a marriage with a suitable party when one becomes available. You have seen the other girls move on in life, I want to make sure that you have the perfect husband.”

“But who would be the perfect husband? Do you have someone in mind? Is anyone ever going to be able to meet your lofty standards? Because the way it's going I am going to grow old, and by the time you do find someone you think is worthy of me I shall be as dried up as a prune and he will turn away in disgust!” Her blood boiled and her voice rose to a shrill peak.

“I am your father and I shall decide who best suits you. You need someone who is going to take care of you and protect you from the world, just as I have done all these years, and until that man comes along I will not let you leave this house.”

“You and mother are both the same! What are you so afraid of? Both of you have lived here all your lives. What do you know of the world? Only things you have read in books. You like to think of yourself as a brave hero, and the rest of the town have only fed that delusion, really you're a coward, both of you are, so afraid of the world that you'd suffocate your own daughter!”

With that, she spun on her heels and stormed out of the kitchen, stamping her feet up the stairs and slamming her door. She flung herself on her hard mattress and beat her fists in frustration against the pillow. Angry tears streamed down her cheeks but it was an impotent rage, for she knew that nothing would change, and all her pleading would only fall on deaf ears.

Chapter 3

The hours dwindled, and eventually Mary-Jane calmed down. Throwing a tantrum before dinner was never a good idea, and that was a lesson she should have learned when she was younger. She had been blessed with the spirit of her father, which often explained why the two of them clashed. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, and she was doubled over in her bed.

The sun had set and now, outside her window, the moon had taken its place on the celestial throne. It hung and bathed the world in a silvery glow. The night had a certain intimate feeling about it. The stars twinkled and winked down at the earth, the long shadows hid all manner of secrets that lurked within them, and the animals that only came out at night sang and squawked. Mary-Jane wanted to sneak downstairs and satiate her hunger, but she was afraid of bumping into her parents. The shame of seeing them without the break of sleep in between her thundering argument was too much to bear, so she decided to remain in her room until the small hours of the night.

When she finally thought that her parents had gone to sleep, she carefully opened her room and gingerly stepped outside, avoiding the creaking floorboards. Her light feet ensured that she reached downstairs without any problems and found that her mother had made her a plate. She tore into the food with her fingers, shoveling the meat and vegetables into her mouth like a ravenous animal.

In a blitz, it was over and she breathed heavily, licking her lips and picking up the crumbs of food that had been left behind. It reminded her that her parents were not all bad, it was just that living with them for so long had brought about a great deal of frustration. When she made her way upstairs it was with the thought that the following day she would make amends with her parents and try to talk about the problem rationally, rather than letting it devolve into another argument. However, as she made her way to her bedroom she heard muffled voices, and although she knew that it was rude to eavesdrop, her curiosity was piqued and she moved closer to the door.

“
We need to tell her at some point
,” her mother said.

“
It's too dangerous. We decided a long time ago that we were going to protect her from the world
.”

“
He was her uncle. She has just as much right as anyone to know what really happened
.”

“
Wouldn't you rather her remember him as the man that he was, not the one he turned into? I'm telling you Annabelle, no good will come of this
.”