Free Lonely Girl by Josephine Cox Page A

gave the stick to her accomplice for safekeeping.
    Wagging his tail as though he had been given charge of something very special, he grasped it firmly between his teeth, making it look like his face was suspended in a weird kind of smile.
    ‘Don’t lose it, Barney,’ Rosie urged. ‘It might come in handy if we meet the bad men,’ though the idea of that happening made her shiver.
    With torch in hand, and ready for anything, the two of them left the house. Rosie locked the front door behind her, trying it twice to make sure it was locked. Satisfied, she then slipped the key into her coat pocket.
    Nervous of the dark, and ashamed of defying her father’s instructions, Rosie set out along the path and into the night, her loyal friend Barney ever close by her side, the short, stout walking stick clutched tight in his mouth and his dark, silky ears pricked to every little sound.
    ‘Remember, Barney, don’t you dare start barking at the slightest thing. If there are bad men we don’t want them to know we’re here. We just need to find Daddy as quickly as we can.’
    Nervously, Rosie continued forward, focusing the torchlight directly onto the path before them, which she hoped would be discreet enough not to draw the attention of any intruder who might be in the vicinity.

    Close by, John continued to follow both the diminishing sounds and his own sharp instinct. He was being extra cautious, knowing that if he was spotted before he could learn the lie of the land he could be in deep trouble.
    Earlier, it was muffled laughter that led him to the hay barn, but now the laughter had ceased. However, he had to check if anyone was still in there. The door was unlocked and the light was on so he feared they might be lying in wait to jump him. He crept forward, being extra careful as he silently tiptoed between the bales. As he reached the middle of the barn he could hear low murmurings. The thieves were clearly towards the far end. He readied himself for the confrontation. He had no way of knowing how many of them might be lurking back there. Obviously there were at least two, but there might be more, and the possibility of locking horns with a brutish gang of thieves made him question his position for a second time.
    However many of them he would have to face, it was not in his character to cut and run. If he had a choice, he would rather not have a fight on his hands, but if it was a fight they wanted, then it was a fight they would get.
    In truth, all he wanted was to send them packing; to let them know that he and his property were not such an easy target as they might previously have thought.
    This time he was just a few steps away from confronting them, he had the element of surprise, and he had a sturdy spade, which he’d picked up by the barn door, in his fist. His anger made him strong, and right now he was ready for them.
    Bracing himself, he crept forward until he was so near to their hiding place he hardly dared breathe.
    Taking a deep, calming breath, he realised the very real danger to himself. And what of Rosie, alone in the house except for Barney?
    John saw now that he might be putting himself into a situation that could end badly, yet he had no choice but to confront the intruders.
    When, distracted by his thoughts, he suddenly missed his footing, he stood still listening intently for a moment, to be sure they had not heard him.
    Satisfied, he continued to focus on the soft, whispering voices and the occasional rustling of hay. He needed to pinpoint their whereabouts exactly so he could take the advantage of surprise.
    It enraged him to think that thieves were actually here in his barn, furtively plotting to rob him of what had been earned through his own hard work over the years.
    Apart from his father’s generous gift of the farm, nothing had ever been handed to him on a plate. The daily grind and worries of running a good farm demanded blood, sweat and tears, and he was not about to stand by while a bunch of