Beauty From Ashes

by Lynnette Bonner

  The saloon at the camp. The drinking.

  His eyes widened in the darkness as memory flooded him.

  John Hunt was going to blow up the Wyldhaven church, and Kin had to stop it.

  He forced himself to sit up, gritting his teeth to block the groan that begged for escape. Outside he could hear crickets. And a bullfrog. That meant it was night.

  His heart hammered. Which night? How long had he been out? Was he too late? Had everyone already been killed?

  He had to try to escape and find out.

  His eyes had adjusted to the dark a little now, and he could see that he was in a shed of some kind. But it contained nothing except some old rotting pallets. The walls felt like stone, cold and hard. But the floor was dirt.

  Kin tried to dig his fingers into it, but it was packed hard. And so cold it must be close to freezing tonight.

  He realized then that his body was shaking. Maybe the ground wasn’t so cold as his body was feverish. And thirsty. He swept a dry tongue over dry lips.

  Merely a sip of water would taste like heaven right about now.

  Heaven. He snorted. It was the scent of heaven that had gotten him into this predicament in the first place. It was probably best he quit thinking about heaven and get to digging.

  He fumbled through the darkness until he found a loose board. He could see a strip of moonlight coming in beneath the door. He pulled himself toward it. All the walls would have a foundation that he’d likely never be able to dig past. But the door… If it wasn’t guarded, he might be able to dig out from under the door.

  Holding his breath, he knocked on the wood. The crickets and the bullfrog stilled, but there was no other response. “Anyone out there?” His voice rasped from thirst and lack of use. There still was no response so he called out again, a little louder this time.

  Still no reply.

  Kin relaxed a little and willed his fevered hands to grip the board. “God, if you’re out there, I could really use a little help to save a group of good people. Your people.”

  There was no response to that either, but then, he hadn’t expected one.

  Kin set to scraping away at the floor in front of the door.

  But it was slow going. The ground really was as hardpacked as he’d first thought.

  Preston was still shaking his head by the time he arrived back at his parsonage. He unsaddled the horses and rubbed them down, then took time to clean the tack before heading into the house.

  There was still no sign of Kin. This made the second night in a row that he hadn’t come home.

  Preston grunted. “Living for the world will suck the living energy right out of you and leave you dryer than ancient bones, Kin. One of these days you’re going to ask me how I know.”

  A shiver swept over Preston’s shoulders as a thought occurred. Kin would only be able to ask that question if he was alive. Preston gave his head a shake. He’d never been a worrier until he’d taken Kin under his roof, but there was something about being responsible for the well-being of another that burdened a person clean to their very heart.

  And right now, that burden was burning in his chest like a holy fire.

  “God, wherever he’s at, get a hold of him, please. And between now and then, keep him safe, would You? Even if he doesn’t deserve it?” The worry eased a bit, but somehow Preston knew that a good deal of his night would be spent tossing and turning in prayer for his errant ward.

  He stepped into the bedroom and sank onto the edge of his bed. As he tugged off his boots, his focus landed on the small pallet Rory had been sleeping on each night. Aurora. She had rolled it up and tucked it against the base of the wall.

  He flopped back on the bed with a groan. Here was more to pray about.

  “Lord, who knew that being a good Samaritan came with so many risks? I hope You’re paying attention to my little corner of the world? Might be that this servant of Yours is about to be run out of the church on a rail. Sure would be nice if You paved the way for a little merciful understanding from the townsfolk, tomorrow. And if You’d give me the right words to say, that’d be appreciated too.”

  Kin’s side felt as though it was on fire. And his fingers ached and bled. The rotting boards kept breaking after only a few scrapes against the rocky soil. The hole he’d managed to dig wasn’t big enough for a good-sized dog to squeeze through, much less someone his size. Too bad he’d inherited his Pa’s broad shoulders and height. If he was a smaller man, this task might be easier.

  He collapsed back against the stone wall, energy nearly spent, and vision blurred with fever.

  He wasn’t going to make it. Already he could see the ground outside growing lighter. It was almost dawn, and he still had to find a way to get back to town.

  His thirst demanded attention. His mouth was so dry he could feel that his lips had cracked. His gaze fell to the small pile of dirt he’d pushed to one side of the doorway. He remembered a trick Pa had once told him about. He lifted a pebble from the dirt, rubbed it against his trousers to clean it as best he could, and then put it in his mouth. Sucking on the rock, soon drew needed moisture to his mouth and lessened his body’s cry for water.

  With renewed energy he went back to work on his hole.

  But the board he was using snapped in two.

  Kin flung the pieces across the room with a grunt of anger. “Why does everything in life have to be so hard?” He hauled himself back across the space to the pile of pallets.

  It was the sound of metal clanking against wood that froze him. He patted his hand carefully across the ground in front of him. His fingers were so cold, he couldn’t recognize the feel of anything. He brought his hands up to his mouth, blowing warm air against the aching digits. Then he tucked his fingers into his armpits and waited for a count of ten. He fumbled his hands across the ground again. This time his heart started hammering. His fingers wrapped around the hand-sized piece of metal and he scrabbled back to the door to examine it in the pale light. It was an iron log spike. The kind hammered into logs so they could be hauled behind a mule or horse. Pointed on one end, it had a flat metal loop on the other to chain off to.

  Kin gripped the spike firmly in one hand, elation threading through him. “Thank God.”

  He set to digging with renewed vigor.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Saturday morning arrived with sparkling sun glistening on the morning frost. Liora felt a thrill of joy wash through her as she basted egg whites on the top of her pie and popped it back into the oven to brown. She couldn’t be more ecstatic for Charlotte and Reagan.

  The water on the stove had come to a boil and she added the oats and gave them a stir.

  Joe had offered to take them all into town a little early so that she could deliver her food to the church. He had spent the week cutting and stripping logs and now had enough that he had said they could start building the barn first thing come spring. He’d also added on to the lean-to to make a stall for his Paint and to add a fourth wall so that he would have a warm place to sleep this winter. Liora was thankful to have that worry off her mind.

  And another thing to be thankful for was that neither John Hunt nor his men had bothered them all week. But—a shiver touched the base of Liora’s neck—there was a feel of danger looming on the horizon. She felt it every time she stepped out the door. Of course, Joe’s hyper-vigilance probably didn’t help alleviate that feeling much. He rode out multiple times a day to check the perimeter of the property and make sure no one was waiting in ambush. And each time she or one of the girls wanted to go outside, he made them wait until he’d stepped into the yard and done a thorough scrutiny of the hills all around.

  Tess stepped into the kitchen wearing one of her new dresses—the cornflower blue one that she had declared to be her favorite. She smoothed her hands over the front self-consciously. “Does it look all right?” Tess couldn’t have been prouder when she had come home last evening and announced that Jacinda had allowed her to sew on the dress’s buttons.


  Liora grinned broadly and pulled the girl into a quick embrace. “You look absolutely beautiful. It really brings out the blue of your eyes!”

  “And that’s the truth.” Joe stepped into the kitchen and gave Tess a quick wink. The girl blushed to the roots of her hair and busied herself at the sink.

  “Is Aurora awake?” Liora hadn’t seen the girl come out of her room this morning. “Breakfast will be ready in a moment.” She gave the oatmeal on the stovetop another stir.

  Tess shrugged. “Not sure. Her room’s been mighty quiet.”

  “Have some porridge.” Liora lifted the pot of oats to draw their attention to it, then set it on a trivet on the sideboard. “I’d best go check on Aurora.” Liora nodded Tess’s attention toward the stove. “Mind the pie, would you? It only needs five minutes to brown.”

  “Yes’m.”

  Joe poured himself a cup of coffee. “The wagon is hitched up and ready to go as soon as you ladies are.”

  “Thank you,” Liora called over her shoulder as she hurried toward Aurora’s room. She knocked on the door. “Rory? Can I come in?”

  Silence rang in response.

  Liora’s heart rate picked up. Had the girl run off?

  She turned the handle slowly and peered around the edge of the door.

  Aurora lay on the bed, staring out the window adjacent. The sheets were fisted in one hand that trembled near her chin, and her eyes were red and glistening.

  “Oh, darling. I’m so sorry.” Liora sank onto the bed and smoothed Rory’s hair back from her face.

  “I’m not coming to town. I can’t face all those people.” Rory’s voice was dry. Brittle. Barely audible.

  Liora poured a cup of water from the pitcher on the nightstand and urged her to sit up. She really didn’t want to leave Rory here on her own. “Here. Have a drink of water.”

  She was gratified to see Rory down the whole cup before she curled into her pillow once more.

  Liora tried again. “I’d really like for you to come to town with us. It might not be safe here.”

  Aurora gave a sniff. “No. I’m not going to be there when that man tells everyone what a liar I am.”

  Liora’s lips thinned. “He’s not going to say it like that.”

  Aurora shrugged. Swiped angrily at her cheek. “It’s what he thinks.”

  “I’m certain he was simply in shock last night. If he said anything unkind, I’m sure he’ll be the first to offer an apology. It really would be safer for you to join us.”

  Aurora shook her head, jaw jutted in stubborn refusal. “I survived living in the camp in a thin-walled shanty where John Hunt could barge in whenever he pleased. I think I’ll be fine here in a log home with doors that lock.” There was a touch of bitterness to the words, and Liora’s heart tugged at the sight of the girl’s fresh tears.

  She gave a sigh. She couldn’t force her to come. She smoothed a hand over Rory’s hair. “All right, you don’t have to come. Only…I’m expected. You’re sure you’ll be all right on your own?”

  Aurora sniffed. “I’ll be fine.” She tacked on almost as an afterthought, “Thank you.”

  Liora stood reluctantly. “I’ll leave you a bowl of porridge in the icebox. You can heat it in the warming oven when you get hungry. And I’ll bring you back a plate of food from the gathering.”

  Aurora’s face scrunched further and her voice was tighter when she said again, “Thank you.”

  Despite Aurora’s reassurance that she would be fine, Liora couldn’t banish her disinclination to leave her at the cabin on her own. She eased the girl’s door shut and hurried back to her room. She would ask Joe what he thought, but first she must hurry and dress. Joe and Tess were waiting on her.

  Joe… She tried not to think too much on how she enjoyed having him pop into her kitchen each morning. Or about the warmth in his eyes as he’d watched her over the rim of his coffee cup just a bit ago.

  She quickly changed from her workday dress into the green ensemble that she’d had Jacinda make for special occasions and then assessed herself in the mirror. She loved this outfit. The green fitted jacket had a large bow at the back, and the full skirt had three tiers of tassel-fringe around it. Perhaps a bit extravagant for the town of Wyldhaven, but it had appealed to her when Jacinda had presented her with the idea and each time she wore it she was glad they had chosen this design.

  And today she would need the confidence boost.

  She’d decided that for Joe’s sake she was going to try to enjoy herself today. And she’d figured out a way to get her pie and roast to the church without anyone knowing they were hers, so that should make the enjoyment easier to come by.

  The reminder of the pie sent her scrambling back to the kitchen, but Tess had already retrieved it from the oven along with the roast. “Aurora be all right?” she asked.

  Liora wagged her head indecisively. “I suspect she’s just feeling the loss of her ma now that she’s giving herself some time to mourn.” She met Joe’s gaze across the table. “She says she doesn’t want to come to town with us. Do you think we should let her stay?”

  Joe twirled his coffee cup, staring out the window at the surrounding land. “I don’t like it.”

  “I don’t either. But I tried to encourage her to join us and she flatly refused.”

  Joe sighed. “I don’t suppose there’s much we can do about it then. As long as she keeps the doors locked, she’ll probably be okay.” He stood, draining the last of his coffee. “I’ll get the wagon.”

  With one last worried glance toward Rory’s room, Liora stepped over to the stove. Lord, you’ll have to be her protection today. With a sigh, she lifted the pot roast into one side of her basket.

  “That roast beef…” Tess inhaled appreciatively. “Smells deeevine. Makes a gal wish she hadn’t et such a big breakfas’.” She giggled.

  Liora gave her forearm an appreciative squeeze. It didn’t escape her that Tess was trying to lighten the mood.

  “And that pie!” Tess’s eyes sparkled as Liora tied a towel around the pie to help keep it warm. “Such a sight! I like how ya used extra crust to make them flowers for the edge.” She grinned at Liora over her shoulder as she slipped on her coat and stepped over to wait near the door.

  Liora smiled her thanks. It pleased her to see Tess relaxing enough to interact with her on such a level. This was probably the most Tess had said since her arrival.

  It also pleased Liora to have her work appreciated. She had gone out of her way to make the top of the pie beautiful. She had cut varying sizes of flower shapes out of the crust and then layered them atop one another in a cascade around the edge. From the extra dough, she’d cut small leaves and pasted them on with egg whites to act as glue. The flowers, combined with the braid she’d done along the edge of the pie, had come together rather nicely, even if she did think it herself. Berry juice seeped through the holes, staining the edges a dark red that added to the floral effect. She just hoped it was going to taste as good as it looked.

  She slipped the pie into the basket along with the rolls she’d baked the evening before and the fresh butter that she’d taught Tess how to churn while the rolls baked. A jar of apple butter that Dixie had helped her make last fall would add the perfect tart touch.

  She gave Tess a nod. “I’ll just grab my coat and be right out. Please let Joe know we are ready.”

  Liora made sure all the doors were locked tight and said one more prayer for Aurora’s safety as they rode out of the yard.

  When they arrived in town, Joe reined the horses toward the church. Liora started to hold out a hand to stop him, but it trembled something fierce, and she thought better of it and tucked it away before he could see. She had to proceed with caution here, for she knew Joe would not approve of, nor be pleased with, her plan for her contributions. But what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. “I’m sure the ladies are preparing the food over at Dixie’s. Why don’t you drop Tess and me off there?” She held her breath, had he n
oticed the quaver in her voice?

  He gave her a hard look, but did pull to the other side of the road and stop at Dixie’s front door.

  “Thank you. We’ll meet you over at the church.” Scooping up her basket, she motioned for Tess to follow her and scuttled inside before he could voice any of the questions she could see in his expression.

  Dixie was busy in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on her chocolate cake. Her mother, Rose, leaned over a large pan of crispy golden chicken at the stove.

  “Morning.” Liora greeted. “You both remember Tess?”

  Tess gave a little curtsey.

  “Morning!” Dixie greeted them both with exuberant hugs.

  Rose was more sedate, but no less welcoming.

  “We were just about to head over.” Dixie gave the frosting on her cake one last swirl with her knife and stepped back to eye her handiwork. “Flynn should be here at any moment to help us carry everything over.”

  Rose used tongs to layer the chicken into a cloth-lined basket.

  Dixie suddenly spun toward them with a blink. “Aren’t you supposed to have someone else with you?” Her voice quieted on the last few words as she peered behind them, obviously looking for Rory.

  “The parson must have already spoken with you?” Liora figured caution was the better part of valor since she wasn’t completely sure Dixie actually knew about Rory and she didn’t want to break the parson’s confidence.

  Dixie grinned and nodded, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “He was in quite a state last night. Arrived here sometime well after midnight. Said he’d been trying to sleep, but simply couldn’t, and he wanted to talk to Flynn and get his advice.”

  “And what did Flynn tell him?”

  “Same thing as Joe did, from what we can tell. That he should simply come clean and that all of us know he would never touch the girl, or have her in his house if he’d known who she really was. So where is she?” Dixie dropped her frosting bowl and knife into the kitchen sink and spun to face them, removing her apron.

  Liora gave a little shake of her head. “I think it was all rather much for her. Parson Clay was quite angry with her. And I think she’d been putting off mourning for her ma. She didn’t want to come today, and I can’t say as I blame her what with all the…” She caught herself just in time. She felt her face heat at the fact that she’d been about to mention the gossipy women in such a condescending tone. Oh Lord, how I need to be more like you. “Well, anyhow, I don’t blame her.”