“Mr. Anderson?” He spoke as soon as he came within hearing.
“Ja?” Big Lars stepped forward, his flinty gaze darting from Blake to his daughter in the wagon. “What is it?”
“Your daughter’s been hurt. She needs to talk to you.”
Big Lars brushed past Blake and strode back to the wagon. From where he stood, he could hear snatches of their emotional conversation. But he could only tell that Lars was angry and Hanna was weeping.
At last, with Hanna still in tears, Lars turned back to Blake. “Hanna tells me you saved her from those men. I owe you my thanks, but we take care of our own. We will find those cowboys and make them pay.”
“Did Hanna tell you what I said about that?”
“She did.”
“So you know you could risk starting a war?”
“We can’t let men like those have their way with our women. For honor and safety, we must teach them a lesson.”
“Let me talk to the sheriff—” Blake began, but Lars cut him off.
“The sheriff won’t help us. We are not the ones paying him.”
“Then all I can do is ask you to think before you act. If you take the law into your own hands, there could be bloodshed on both sides—and more fires.”
Glancing around, Blake noticed that the other men had left their work and gathered close enough to hear what was being said. They didn’t look friendly. Maybe they thought he was threatening them.
“Look.” He gestured toward the loaded wagon. “I own the lumber mill. I brought you some spare wood for the house. Help me unload it, and I’ll be on my way.”
A short, pugnacious man stepped forward. Blake recognized him as Franz Kreuger, the most outspoken of the farmers. “Take your wood back where it came from,” Kreuger snapped. “We’ll do for ourselves. We don’t need charity from your kind.”
Blake felt his temper rising. “I’ve hauled the wood this far, and I’m not taking it back. If you’re too muleheaded to use it, you can damn well set it on fire.” He strode to the back of the wagon, lowered the tailgate, and began pulling boards out and dropping them onto the ground.
“For God’s sake, Kreuger.” It was the owner of the property who spoke. “We need this wood. Without it we won’t have enough lumber for the house.”
“He is right, Franz. Ve vould be fools not to take this gift.” Stefan Reisner stepped forward and began pulling more boards off the wagon. Two others joined him. With help, the wood was soon unloaded.
Hanna hadn’t tried to climb off the wagon or asked anyone to help her down. She sat huddled on the bench, holding the basket and bundle she’d brought. She had put on a brave face while Blake was bringing her here. But whatever her father had said to her, his words had crushed her spirit.
Blake took the basket and bundle from her and handed it to one of the men. “It’s time for me to leave,” he told her. “I’ll get your father to help you down and see to your ankle.”
When she looked at him, he saw the tears welling in her eyes. “Please,” she whispered. “I don’t want to stay here. I want to go home to my mother.”
“You’re sure?”
“They’re all looking at me. Please.”
“I can take you, but only if your father agrees to it. Do you want me to ask him?”
She nodded.
Blake took Lars aside. “Your daughter’s been through a bad time. She wants her mother. I can take her home, but only with your permission.”
Scowling, Lars looked past Blake to where Hanna sat huddled on the wagon bench. “You can take her, ja, but not alone. Only if her brother goes with you. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Blake needed no explanation. Hanna’s reputation had already been compromised. To her father’s way of thinking, the family’s honor was at stake.
Lars beckoned to the tall young man who stood nearby. Father and son exchanged a few words in Swedish before turning toward Blake.
“This is my son Alvar,” Lars said. “He will go with you now. He can work at home for the rest of the day.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, sir.” The young man extended his hand. He was tall like his father, with wheat blond hair showing beneath his straw hat and blue eyes that shone with intelligence. His handshake was firm but restrained.
Blake returned the greeting. “Let’s go, then,” he said.
The relief on Hanna’s face when her brother climbed onto the wagon was like the sun coming out. Alvar hugged her, his tone comforting as he spoke a few words to her in Swedish. Once they’d settled into their places, with Hanna on one side of him and Alvar on the other, Blake took the reins, turned the wagon around in a wide circle, and started back the way they’d come.
“I’ll need you to guide me,” he said to Alvar. “How far is it to your place?”
“About three miles. It won’t take long. For now, just keep heading west.” Alvar’s English was good, with only a slight accent. His words and speech patterns were somewhat bookish, suggesting that he’d done his share of reading. “I’m not aware that anyone thanked you for the wood. Allow me to thank you now. It was kind of you to bring it.”
“I just wanted to help,” Blake said. “In a way, I feel responsible. Yesterday I fired two men who worked for me. They might’ve been the ones who started the fire.”
“And my sister?” His voice hardened. “Was it the same two men who attacked her?”
“No. They were different men.”
“So you recognized them.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
Sitting next to Hanna, Blake felt her body stiffen.
“My father will want to know their names and where to find them,” Alvar said.
“He won’t get that information from me, Alvar. And you know why. If you and your father punish those men, you could go to jail. Or worse, you could start a war that could get people killed, including your own family.”
“Do you have a daughter?” Alvar asked.
“No, but I have a sister. If anybody tried to hurt her, I’d feel just the way you do. But I wouldn’t go after them myself. I’d use the law to punish them.”
Is that true? Blake asked himself. What if it was Kristin those bastards tried to rape? What would you do?
He knew what his father would do. Joe Dollarhide would kill any man who laid hands on his daughter. And so would Big Lars Anderson.
“The law won’t help us,” Alvar said. “And if we don’t do something, our girls and women will become fair game. If you won’t give us the names of those men, we’ll find out some other way.”
“Then I wish you luck. But I won’t be part of this. I won’t be responsible for what’s liable to happen if your people take the law into their own hands.”
“Are you defending those men?”
“I don’t give a damn about those two bastards. My concern is what their friends, and the ranchers, could do to your families. You’d be giving them an excuse to drive you off the land.”
Alvar didn’t reply. Blake could only hope he’d given the young man something to think about. But it was the father who’d have to be convinced.