her, lady.”
Hope stiffened. “Maybe.”
The bowlegged outlaw spit over the porch railing. She saw Grunt back away from the conversation, watching the exchange from beneath the lowered brim of his black felt hat.
“Git on in there.” Big Joe grabbed Hope’s arm and tried to shove her ahead of him. He kicked the front door open and stepped inside. Frog followed him, carrying Hope’s suitcase.
When Hope saw the room’s condition, she caught her breath. Stopping dead in her tracks in the doorway, she wrinkled her nose. She’d never seen anything so filthy. Broken furniture, dishes with remnants of dried food still on them. Something furry skittered out of a bowl and raced down the table leg. She shuddered. Surely they didn’t expect her to stay here!
“This is unacceptable!”
Cobwebs dangled from the ceiling. The only window was obscured by dirt. The woodstove, used for both cooking and heating she assumed, had rusted from neglect. Trash littered the corners, and the rodents had brought nuts in from the outdoors. Her gaze traveled to the only bed in the room, a single cot with a dirty quilt wadded up on the bare ticking. Her eyes switched to the ceiling, where holes large enough for a good-size animal to slide through were apparent.
She whirled at the sudden movement in a corner and cringed. The room was infested with rodents and who knew what else? Fear constricted her throat.
Big Joe came back to physically try and pull her into the room. “Come on, git in here, girlie.”
Hope planted her feet and refused to move. “Never.”
Big Joe peered at her menacingly. “What’d you mean, never? You gotta come in. I say so.”
She shook her head, refusing to budge. “I’m not going in there—not until someone removes those—those things.”
Frog and Boris exchanged quizzical looks. Boris scratched his head. “What things?”
Joe tried to yank her into the room, but she dug her heels in.
“Now yore rilin’ me, girlie!”
Crossing her arms, Hope planted herself in the doorway. If Big Joe wanted to shoot her, he could. She wasn’t going into that pigsty. They would either clean it up, or she would stand here all night.
Big Joe, hands on his hips, big stomach hanging over his belt, glared at her. “You get yoreself in here, missy. Right now!”
Hope shook her head. She was scared—she didn’t know if Joe would shoot her on the spot, but she wasn’t going in that room. “I will not subject myself to that . . .” They think you’re the senator’s daughter, an inner voice reminded her. “My daddy wouldn’ ’low it.”
That wasn’t a lie. Papa wouldn’t have allowed her to breathe air in that room, let alone stay in it.
Big Joe grabbed her arm. “You’ll do as I say—”
“No,” Hope screeched, stomping his foot.
Grabbing his toe, Big Joe did a painful jig.
The two struggled, Hope’s boot connecting with the outlaw’s shins. He whooped, dancing in circles now.
Grunt calmly stepped in to break up the fray. Grasping Joe’s arm, he moved him to safety. “If she wants to stay out here and let the coyotes get her, that’s her choice.”
Hope shot him a sour look. He didn’t scare her. He might act nicer than the others, but he wasn’t.
Well, she could stand anything. Besides, they wouldn’t want a coyote near the cabin. Their hides would be in danger, too.
Grunt brushed past her. “Leave her alone. She’ll come in soon enough.”
Ha. They didn’t know Hope Kallahan. Papa said she had a one-track mind. No one could make her do anything she didn’t want to do. And right now, she didn’t want to go into that dirty room. Crossing her arms, she rooted herself in the doorway.
Boris tried to close the door, but Hope braced her weight and refused to budge.
“Git outta the way so I can shut the door. It’s gonna git cold in here tonight.”
“No.”
Boris took a step back, hunched his shoulder, and burst toward the door, his face filled with determination.
Hope calmly