Free Coming Home to Wyoming (Peaceful Valley Series Book 1) by April Hill

train. At this point, that’s the only thing I can think to do.”
    Martha shook her head with disapproval. “When thee’s had children of thy own, Griffin, thee’ll learn that there are times when a wrong-headed child needs a strong, firm hand, and not reason. And even at sixteen, this poor girl is still a child, in need of being cared for and protected. She’s like a little fledgling sparrow, trying to leave the nest before she’s ready—and thee can’t allow her to go off alone.”
    At this point, Abner, who had remained by the window, began chuckling. “If thee wants to catch this little sparrow, friend, thee’ll have to move thy ass. It appears she’s stolen thy horse again, and flown away.”
    Griff barreled out the front door, and watched from the porch as Jack—without a saddle or bridle—galloped across the Goodspeeds’ north pasture and disappeared into the woods. Eileen a ‘Roon was riding bareback, with a handful of Jack’s mane in one hand, and her bright red hair flying behind her in the morning breeze. On her way, he thought irritably, to Powell Junction—to hop a passing train without bothering to buy a ticket.
    He turned to Abner. “It looks like I’m going to need to borrow a horse, Friend Goodspeed. I’ll try not to let her get away with yours, as well.”
    Considering the consistently bad run of bad luck he’d enjoyed since he made Eileen a ‘Roon O’Malley’s acquaintance, however, this was about to be Griff’s lucky day.
    He had followed the trail of hoof prints no more than a half-mile into the woods when Jack came out of a copse of pine trees at a leisurely walk, stopping every few feet to graze, and without his kidnapper. Griff dismounted, checked him over quickly, and found no injuries, or traces of blood. The only thing left to do now, was to find the thief, and decide how to reward her second attempt at rustling in less than twenty-four hours.
    On foot, and leading both horses, Griff moved deeper into the heavy pine forest, watching for broken branches or twigs, fresh footprints, or any sign that the runaway had come this way.
    A hundred yards farther on, he found what he was looking for.
    With her skirts tucked up to her waist, and carrying her battered shoes, Eileen a’ Roon was trying to cross the stream for which Rainbow Water had been named—a deep-running, pebble-bottomed creek known for its fat, hungry trout, and strong current. She had gotten close to halfway across the deeper water by stepping from one large, moss-covered rock to the next—a difficult passage even in a pair of trousers, and with both hands free. Carrying yards of sopping wet fabric around her waist, and only one arm for balance, her journey to the opposite side had been doomed from the beginning. Griff tied the horses to a sapling, made himself comfortable on a large rock, and waited for the inevitable dunking.
    He didn’t have to wait long. Two giant steps later, the girl’s bare foot slipped on the moss, and she toppled backward into the creek. She was floundering in three feet of icy water, trying to retrieve her shoes before they drifted away, when Griff got up from his rock, and waded in after her.
    Even with her head underwater, though, Miss O’Malley wasn’t ready to surrender. When he tried hauling her out of the current and onto her feet, she whirled around and whacked him in the jaw, then scrambled away, just out of his reach—and tumbled backward, into the water again. Griff grabbed the back of her collar and pulled her all the way back to where she’d started, bumping her backside on the rocks at every step.
    “Get your hands off me!” she screeched. “I don’t need no damned help, and you ain’t takin’ me back to that fuckin’ house, or anywhere else I don’t feel like goin’!”
    “Wrong,” Griff said firmly, dumping her on the muddy creek bank. “I’m taking you back, and you’re going to stay. You’re going to go to school. You’re going to learn to read and