Originally posted by ladygris
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Okay, here it is, unedited and rough, but. . . . .
Spoiler:
Josahlyn felt her wrist twist painfully toward the back of her head and bit her lip to keep from crying out. The stranger in their home stank of sweat and ale, and his black clothing had seen better days. Carson stood in the barred rear door of the house with her mother behind him. Diedre cowered against the door and whimpered, but she'd calmed from the way she'd been shrieking. Carson stared at the intruder, his hands at his side and his jaw clenched. For a man who generally had a sparkle in his eyes, it looked quite deadly.
“Let her go.” Even the tone of his voice had dropped along with his chin.
The intruder laughed. “Or what?” He twisted Josahlyn's wrist again, and something gave. She couldn't keep the cry of pain from escaping.
When it did, Carson's chin dipped slightly so that he stared out of the tops of his eyes. “Let. Her. Go,” he ordered, taking time to enunciate each word.
“No.” The intruder sounded as if he were discussing the weather. “Now, you're gonna get me all your food stores, some warm clothing, and I might take this pretty thing. . . .” He turned toward Josahlyn because she smelled his breath get stronger. “. . .off your hands.”
“You'll do no such thing.”
“And who's gonna stop me? You?” Clearly despising Carson, the intruder turned Josahlyn toward the bedroom. “Come on in here and show me which clothes you want me to take.”
Several things happened next. Josahlyn felt tears spring to her eyes when her injured wrist was turned. The intruder began forcing her toward Diedre's room, who began screaming again. And Carson moved. The intruder's head bounced forward and into Josahlyn's, but he pushed her away from him. She impacted the corner of the door with her face, but, by the time she turned, the intruder had shaken off the blow. Carson stood in the kitchen, staring at the fire poker as if he'd never seen it in his life. That gave the intruder a chance to charge him. The two went down in the kitchen, bounced off of Diedre's chair, and rolled on the floor. Carson exchanged blows as best as he could, but he wasn't a fighter. Before long, the intruder had Carson flat on his back in a strangle-hold.
Ironically, Diedre ended the fight. She shuffled over to the fireplace, picked up the shovel that Josahlyn used to clean ashes from the fireplace, and brought it down flat-side first into the intruder's head. Much like Josahlyn imagined Carson having just done. Carson saw the danger and kicked the intruder, resulting in the hands around his neck loosening enough that he could roll out of the way. But the distraction gave Diedre the chance to hit the guy a second time. He flopped onto the floor, unconscious, and Carson moved quickly to prevent Diedre from hitting him a third time.
Diedre blinked at Carson. “Stranger?”
“Aye,” Carson said with a rueful grin and rough voice. “Stranger.”
He glanced at Josahlyn, who was still frozen in place next to her mother's door. She wanted to move but couldn't. Not yet. Diedre showed signs of becoming agitated again, but she just could not break the pose she'd taken. Carson saw the signs, however, and pushed to his feet. He gently took the shovel from Diedre's hands and guided the woman back to her chair. Diedre still eyed him suspiciously, but she accepted her yarn and began working on the afghan she'd started earlier that day. Then, Carson went and dragged the intruder from the home.
Josahlyn watched all of this almost uncaringly while her mind whirled. A stranger had come into her home, tried to take their winter stores—and her—and she had not a clue how it had happened. If Carson had not been there. . . .
“Let her go.” Even the tone of his voice had dropped along with his chin.
The intruder laughed. “Or what?” He twisted Josahlyn's wrist again, and something gave. She couldn't keep the cry of pain from escaping.
When it did, Carson's chin dipped slightly so that he stared out of the tops of his eyes. “Let. Her. Go,” he ordered, taking time to enunciate each word.
“No.” The intruder sounded as if he were discussing the weather. “Now, you're gonna get me all your food stores, some warm clothing, and I might take this pretty thing. . . .” He turned toward Josahlyn because she smelled his breath get stronger. “. . .off your hands.”
“You'll do no such thing.”
“And who's gonna stop me? You?” Clearly despising Carson, the intruder turned Josahlyn toward the bedroom. “Come on in here and show me which clothes you want me to take.”
Several things happened next. Josahlyn felt tears spring to her eyes when her injured wrist was turned. The intruder began forcing her toward Diedre's room, who began screaming again. And Carson moved. The intruder's head bounced forward and into Josahlyn's, but he pushed her away from him. She impacted the corner of the door with her face, but, by the time she turned, the intruder had shaken off the blow. Carson stood in the kitchen, staring at the fire poker as if he'd never seen it in his life. That gave the intruder a chance to charge him. The two went down in the kitchen, bounced off of Diedre's chair, and rolled on the floor. Carson exchanged blows as best as he could, but he wasn't a fighter. Before long, the intruder had Carson flat on his back in a strangle-hold.
Ironically, Diedre ended the fight. She shuffled over to the fireplace, picked up the shovel that Josahlyn used to clean ashes from the fireplace, and brought it down flat-side first into the intruder's head. Much like Josahlyn imagined Carson having just done. Carson saw the danger and kicked the intruder, resulting in the hands around his neck loosening enough that he could roll out of the way. But the distraction gave Diedre the chance to hit the guy a second time. He flopped onto the floor, unconscious, and Carson moved quickly to prevent Diedre from hitting him a third time.
Diedre blinked at Carson. “Stranger?”
“Aye,” Carson said with a rueful grin and rough voice. “Stranger.”
He glanced at Josahlyn, who was still frozen in place next to her mother's door. She wanted to move but couldn't. Not yet. Diedre showed signs of becoming agitated again, but she just could not break the pose she'd taken. Carson saw the signs, however, and pushed to his feet. He gently took the shovel from Diedre's hands and guided the woman back to her chair. Diedre still eyed him suspiciously, but she accepted her yarn and began working on the afghan she'd started earlier that day. Then, Carson went and dragged the intruder from the home.
Josahlyn watched all of this almost uncaringly while her mind whirled. A stranger had come into her home, tried to take their winter stores—and her—and she had not a clue how it had happened. If Carson had not been there. . . .
Awesome, now I want more!
I'm in here a lot so I just refresh the page when my email lets me know someone has posted. Usually we're so chatty that even if just guess, there's something new.
Okay I'm not sure it's actually the same, lol, so maybe she should struggle for a bit longer. I dunno.
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