by Jill Barnett
Dagny sighed with relief, and she cracked the door open. The back street was empty, and she ran, as fast as her bare feet would take her, praying to God that she could get help in time.
“They’re gone!”
“What in the hell do you mean, ‘they’re gone?’” Kit said, panicked but trying to get Maddie to calm down.
“Both Dagny and Hallie! Their windows are open and they’re gone! Someone has taken them. Liv saw the man climbing out the window with Dagny, but by the time she got me, he had taken them off in a wagon!”
Maddie grabbed his shoulders. “I didn’t hear anything, Kit. Oh, God, you have to find them!”
“Abner,” Kit breathed, and Duncan nodded. Kit pried Maddie’s hands from his shoulders. “Calm down, Maddie, we’ll find them.”
He turned to Duncan. “Go get Lee. I just left him at the Thistle Inn. He should still be there. Get back here as fast as you can. I’ll see if anyone recognized that wagon.”
Duncan took Kit’s horse and rode off, while Kit went from door to door trying to find out if anyone could give him any clues as to where the women were taken.
Fifteen minutes later Lee and Duncan rode up. Kit was waiting near the hitching post.
“Did you find out anything?” Lee asked.
Kit shook his head. “Nobody saw anything, except Maddie and Liv, and they said the wagon headed that way.” Kit pointed down to the bay side of the hill. He rubbed his temple in frustration. “God, I don’t even know where to start looking.”
As if he weren’t in enough hell, the sky suddenly poured with rain. The clouds rolled in and the rain drummed on the wooden walks. A scream echoed up from the bottom of the hilly street. The men turned and saw Dagny, torn and barefoot, running toward them, screaming and stumbling up the hill.
They raced to her, and Kit caught her in his arms. She was so hysterical and out of breath that her words were indistinguishable between her panting breaths. He held her and rocked her, trying to get her to calm down so she could speak. She cried so hard, all she could do was gasp, fighting for air, until finally her stammers cleared.
“Abner Brown. He’s burying her . . . in a coffin . . .” she gasped, and then fainted.
Kit handed her to Duncan. “Take her home and get Sheriff Hayes. We’ll meet you at the cemetery!”
Kit and Lee mounted their horses and raced toward Telegraph Hill. Kit kicked his horse harder and harder, praying that they’d find her. The rain poured, turning the streets to mud. As he pushed his horse faster, his mind flashed with a picture of the mud, seeping into a deep hole and covering over any evidence of a fresh grave. It drove him on, numb with panic and racing with fear.
They reached the road to the semaphore tower. Kit jumped the gate and his horse faltered in the soft, slick ground. He landed on his right arm and rolled hard against a tree but pulled himself up, ignoring the pain, running and stumbling through the grounds.
He could hear Lee calling out behind him, but he didn’t stop, he couldn’t. The storm lashed around in the black night air, making it hard to see. Kit came over another rise and stopped, peering through the downpour.
Then he saw the wagon.
He closed in on it, running so hard his bones ached. He could see a figure, bent and shoveling mud into a hole. He flew onto Abner, knocking the shovel from his hands as they rolled to the ground. Kit was on top and his hands closed around Abner’s neck, but Abner wedged his leg between their struggling bodies and shoved Kit backward with his foot.
Abner grabbed the shovel and Kit ducked, so the shovel only cut into his shoulder. Pain shot down his injured arm, and he struggled to get up. Lee ran past him, heading straight for Abner, but the madman saw him and swung the shovel, catching the side of Lee’s head and knocking him unconscious.
Kit used the wagon wheel to pull himself up. Abner had the shovel, holding it in front of him like a sword. Kit charged and Abner stepped aside, laughing loudly as Kit stumbled and fell on his back in the mud. He looked up just as Abner swung the shovel back, intending to crush his skull.
The shovel blade hit one of the wagon horses ,and the animal screamed and reared, its frantic hooves catching Abner like hooks and pulling him under the team. Both horses trampled and pawed until Abner’s broken body was pounded into the mud.
Kit groped toward the grave, using one hand to scoop out the mud.
“No!” he screamed. “Goddammit, no!” The mud flowed into the hole faster than he could get it out. “God, you can’t do this! I can’t lose her . . . I can’t—” His voice cracked with the agony that he couldn’t get to Hallie.
Calling her name again and again, he slid into the hole, wedging his body between the side of the grave and the head of the coffin. He grabbed at the lid but the nails held it shut. He tried to lift it but the heavy mud and his injured arm made it impossible. He had to get the lid off.
Frantic, he looked for something to pry at the nails. He spotted the shovel, broken from the horses’ hooves and half buried in the mud. He crawled from the grave, rain splattering so hard on his face he couldn’t see. He felt around for the shovel but only found mud.
Hurry, Christ hurry! Then his fingers grazed metal. He grasped the wood of the broken handle, dragged the piece into the hole and wedged the metal blade under the lid. Leaning his upper body on the handle, he forced it down with all his body weight. The lid pried open. Over and over he wedged the blade until he could kick the lid open enough to get to Hallie.
He pulled her out and held her against him, rocking with her and calling out her name, begging her to wake up. Then he sat back, cradling her head in his arm and looking at her. Her eyes were closed, as if she were asleep, or dead.
He shook her shoulders.
“Wake up, dammit, you can’t die . . . you can’t . . . I can’t lose you . . .” His tormented words were swallowed in the noise of the storm. “I love you . . . I love you. Oh God! Don’t do this again . . . I love her . . . I love her . . . I love her . . .” Pulling her limp body against him, he buried his head in her neck and cried out his pain, his love.
Her hand touched his shoulder, and suddenly she was stroking him.
He pulled back, looking down into her face, wet and spotted with mud. It was the face he loved.
Her eyes opened, hazy, drugged, and blinking against the rain. Recognition lit her features.
“I love you,” he said, his voice hoarse.
She whispered, “I know.” And she smiled.
Epilogue
Hallie rubbed the oak banister with polishing oil. It was fall, and Maddie was on one of her cleaning binges again. A giggle sang out from the parlor, and Hallie poked her head into the room. She smiled. Duncan held Dagny high in the air so her sister could dust off the window cornice. His large hands squeezed her sister’s small waist, and again she laughed. Next year, when Dagny was older and Duncan’s masonry business was well established, they’d be married.
The smell of cinnamon rose from the kitchen, and Hallie went to check on the bread pudding. She grabbed a rag from nail beside the range and used it to open the oven door. The dessert, a recipe Maddie had wrangled from her friend Millie, was golden brown and bubbling, and Hallie used the rag to remove the hot pan. It was heavy, like lifting Liv’s cat. The pan clumped on the range top, and she closed the oven door, laughing at the size of the dessert. Maddie was still cooking for Lee, despite the fact that he and his ship the Wanderer were off whaling again.
Wiping her hands on her apron, Hallie went to check on the twins. A minute later she stood at the back door, watching the leaves quiver from all the commotion in the tree. Kit pushed a branch aside to peer down at the children standing on the ground below.
“Are you sure you want this thing on this branch?” he asked, pointing to the small wooden platform he was trying to nail to the tree.
The t
wins nodded.
“Okay,” Kit said, and the hammering began.
A loud screech pierced the air.
“Goddammit, Liv! Keep these cats out of this tree until I’m done!” Kit dropped two black and white cats into Liv’s waiting arms. She plopped them each over a shoulder and stood back to watch Kit finish the treehouse.
The hammering resumed. Hallie had just started to close the door when a loud crack erupted from the tree. She spun around just in time to see the tree branch, platform and all, fall to the ground, along with her swearing husband.
Hallie shut the door to hide her laughter, then ran over to the window and watched Kit extract himself from the broken branches. He stood and dusted himself off, glaring up at the second story, where the sound of Maddie’s laughter howled through the backyard. The children had wisely disappeared.
Kit stomped toward the house, so Hallie turned to the range, where she pretended to be busy stirring an empty pot.
The back door slammed and Hallie schooled her grin, turning around to face Kit. He stood behind her, leaves and twigs still dangling from his dark, curly hair, and he wore his famous scowl.
She let her eyes meander over him, then asked, “Fallen out of any trees, lately?”
His scowl disappeared and a devious grin replaced it. His eyes mimicked hers, roving slowly from her head to her pregnant stomach. His arms closed around her, coaxing her into his embrace. “Crawled into any strange beds, lately?”
Hallie whispered against his lips. “Only yours, my love.”
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About Jill Barnett
Jill Barnett sold her first book to Simon and Schuster in 1988 and has gone on to write 19 novels and short stories. There are over 7 million of her books in print, and her work has been published worldwide in 21 languages, audio and large print editions, and has earned her a place on such national bestseller lists as the New York Times, USA Today, Washington Post, Publishers Weekly, Barnes and Noble and Waldenbooks—who presented Jill with the National Waldenbook Award. She lives with her family in the Pacific Northwest.