By Any Means

by Cindy Nord

  As if in slow motion the cherished grounds of Le Belle Maison, their home, the life she’d grown to love with all her heart, met the brutish force of the storm. Brennen clambered down the cellar stairs just as the mansion’s back porch splintered beneath the swirling wrath. Annabelle sobbed out a long, pain-filled noooooooo. And a split-second later, Jasper pulled the cellar door closed, smothering the grizzly view.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The tornado’s fury sideswept the community of Owensborough as Mother Nature ripped her way across the countryside. In a mile wide swath, century-old trees had been uprooted and debris spread far and wide. The terror dissipated as quickly as it had arrived, however, lifting the swirling mass back into the clouds. The rain stopped, leaving only destruction and disorder beneath a cloud-dappled turquoise sky.

  As the roar of wind ceased, Brennen pushed up the cellar door. A soft breeze remained, swishing inward to banish the mustiness in his lungs. Sunlight momentarily blinded him. He looked back.

  “Stay here, ladies,” he ordered, then glanced to Jubal and Jasper. “And you two, come with me.”

  The younger man followed, but Ruby held tight to her husband’s arm. “Don’ go, dere might still be danger.”

  “Storm’s passed, honey,” he said, stroking her cheek. “Turn me loose so’s I can help Mista Brennen.”

  Distress lining her face, she dropped her hold and stepped back.

  Brennen’s gaze shifted to Annabelle.

  She remained huddled where he’d placed her beside a dusty shelf littered with turnips and potatoes. Dampness glistened off the cellar walls, and long strands of dried green beans hung above her head resembling mummified icicles rather than vegetables.

  His gaze reconnected with hers. Fear lingered in the dark green depths. And something else flickered inside, something unreadable, something that sent his heart into chaotic rhythm. A fresh wave of anxiety crested over him. I don’t want to leave her even for a moment. “We’ll be careful,” he said, tamping back his unease. Shaken by the truth, he refused to ponder the impact of his musings.

  She nodded, shivering as she slumped beside Ellie.

  “I’ll keep an eye on her,” the cook said, wrapping Annabelle within a one-armed embrace. “You just get back here safe.”

  He issued a firm nod, then climbed out of the cellar. A damp earthy smell assaulted him as he stepped onto solid ground. He stopped, his breath catching in his throat. The two men right on his heels collided into him.

  “Sorry suh,” they said in unison.

  Heart pounding, Brennen took another step toward the house. He sucked in air, the fractured ache that now pierced him far surpassing the sadness at witnessing the burnt remains of his manor house back in Richmond. The unfurling ache coiled deeper as he spied the splintered remains of Annabelle’s upstairs rocking chair.

  “Lordy be,” Jubal whispered over his shoulder. “Looks like da whole top-half of da back veranda’s been blowed clean off, suh.”

  In a daze, he nodded, scouring the mansion. A few shattered window panes, otherwise the structure remained intact. His spiraling anxiety receded. “At least the house is standing.”

  “Yes suh, ‘pears to be just fine.”

  “I’ll go check on da barn and livestock, Mista Brennen,” Jasper offered.

  Brennen nodded, glass crunching beneath his boots as he crossed the back yard. Calm. Be calm. “Thanks, Jasper,” he said, stepping over piles of shattered wood and debris as the man took off at a fast sprint.

  “On da other hand, my home’s been smashed to pieces,” Jubal said as he crossed to the remnants of his cabin. He laid a shaky palm upon the massive tree trunk. “G-Glad we weren’t inside.” Straightening, he dusted his hands on the seat of his britches, then turned. “Don’t look like dere’s much damage to da big house. Just some broked glass. So dats a blessin’.”

  Brennen turned toward the row of demolished cabins. Holy shit. Breathing slowly, he laid his arm across the giant’s drooping shoulders.

  “Don’t worry, Jubal,” he rasped. “W-We’ll rebuild your quarters bigger and better than before.” The truth of his words seared him. “I swear. And we’ll make the whole damned thing out of brick, this time. Hell, Ruby can even have a few more windows if she wants.”

  His attempt at cheerfulness fell short beneath the horror strewn around him. Yet a much-relieved sigh rumbled from his foreman’s chest, along with Jubal’s stuttering sob. “T-Thank ya, suh. Thank ya so much.”

  Good God…I damn-well can’t handle any of this if the giant breaks down, too.

  “Absolutely,” Brennen said. “As good as done.” On a mumbled oath, he retraced his steps to the cellar door. “Come on out, ladies. Just watch your step.”

  “I-Is there anything left?” Annabelle whispered as she climbed upward. One of the others had tended to the wound on her cheek, the blood trail wiped away.

  A purple nick remained.

  He nodded, offering her a weak smile. “Main house is still here…” –he paused when, on a sob, her hand covered her mouth—“…and Jasper’s checking on the animals in the barn now.” He pointed where shards of glass glinted the ground. “Be careful. We’ve lost some windows.”

  Ellie emerged from behind Annabelle, blood stains streaking across her apron. “Saints preserve us,” she whispered as she made a hurried sign of the cross. “Me kitchen’s still there. And me chickens and most of me garden survived, too. ‘Tis a miracle…that’s what it is…and me....” The cook’s mumbled words trailed off as she headed toward the summer kitchen scooping up piles of sodden toweling along the way.

  Jasper returned and rushed to a stop beside Brennen. Bending forward, hands on knees, he caught his breath. “Everythin’s good in da barn, sir,” he gasped, sucking in gulps of air. “Lost a few boards and some o’ da roof, but we’s got lucky. No doubt about that, for sure.” He straightened and resettled his hat. “Da animals are a might riled, but dere fine, and da front o’ da big house’s good, too. No damage other den’ a few more broked windows. I’ll go check on da pigs now.”

  “Good.” Brennen gave the lanky lad’s shoulder a squeeze.

  “Will do, suh,” Jasper said.

  Brennen dropped his hold and watched as the man dashed off behind the summer kitchen.

  On a frown, he turned toward Ruby dwarfed within her husband’s shadow. “We’ve lost the row of cabins--” His gaze flitted to Annabelle. “--and, as you can see, the back veranda there.”

  Nodding, she stared at the house. And a moment later, the damnable lump in his own throat grew as tears slipped out and tracked over the curve of her flushed cheeks.

  Shit.

  He stepped closer, the ache to pull her into his embrace again sucking at his soul. “I swear, I’ll rebuild everything we lost here, Annabelle,” he whispered, his breath stirring the drying wisps of hair that framed her face. “I promise.”

  Eyes as green as a summer meadow locked with his. And at that moment he didn’t give a damn about anything but her. The money he’d spend on repairs mattered squat. He had enough in his New Orleans account alone to rebuild this whole place a dozen times over. And he’d do it…

  For her.

  For Jubal and Ruby.

  Hell’s fire…for them all.

  She dipped her chin, and broke the mesmerizing hold. With a nod, she swiped aside her tears. “I-I’m glad you will,” she stammered. “I’m so glad.”

  “’Twas bricks made on yo’ land dat held dis house together, sir,” Jubal added as he slipped a protective arm around his wife who quietly sobbed against him.

  “You’re right. They are strong...and here’s proof.” The frenzied thickness in his chest spread.

  The goliath leaned down to his wife. “It’a be fine, honey. Don’t cry. Dey’s just things. None o’ us got hurt, and Mista Brennen gonna rebuild you a brand new home. Better’n ever, dis time.”

  Brennen’s throat tightened further as Ruby peered up through tear-glazed eyes. “Thank ya, suh
,” she sniffed. “You be heaven-sent for sure, more’n you even know.”

  Heaven sent? The driving devil that lurked inside him, his sole counselor and companion for years, snorted in response. And yet, deep down, Brennen found the matchless source of his strength. “When I first arrived,” he ground out, “I promised I’d take care of everyone here and by God that’s what I’m going to do.” He scanned the debris as he struggled to regain control of his unraveling emotions. Like it or not, he now had a family; however lopsided that family might be. These people depended on him…a responsibility he thought might never come into his life.

  He inhaled, suppressing the sob in his throat as he allowed the obligation to swell full-force through him. This time he’d not break the link. “Looks like the worst skipped over us though. Look.” Heart pounding, he pointed south to the splintered woodline in the distance. “There’s a definite path of destruction. The column of air topped the trees before lifting.”

  Annabelle gasped. “The nuns! Oh Brennen, the tornade swirled right over them.”

  His stomach did a sickening flip-flop. “Good God…you’re right.”

  Brennen jammed his boot heel into the muddy ground and bolted for the stable, jumping downed limbs and skirting debris. With each step, his mind reeled at the possibilities of the destruction he’d find at Mount Maple.

  Moments later he ducked into cool darkness. Horses’ whinnies filled the air along with the baaas of sheep as they milled in frantic circles inside their stalls. Raucous bleating from nearby goats blended into a crescendo of animal sounds as Brennen hurried past.

  Jubal,” he bellowed as the foreman rushed into the barn. “I’m riding over to check on the nuns. Hook up the wagon, and you ‘n Jasper follow me.”

  “Yes suh.” The man sprinted toward the back of the stable where he’d stored the Weber.

  Jerking a saddle from the peg, Brennen kicked open the closest stall. Frightened and blowing hard, the gelding retreated. Brennen followed, seasoned by his years in the cavalry dealing with skittish horses under fire. Moving alongside, he draped the leather over the animal’s back, then tightened the cinch beneath the beast’s belly. A quick turn, and he found the remainder of the leathers. As he finished saddling his mount, the shuffle of footfalls echoed at the entry.

  Gasping for breath, bright color infusing her cheeks, Annabelle skidded to a halt before the stall. Behind her the stable door hung open by one hinge, and a sunbeam illuminated the tangle of raven curls over her shoulder. “Take me with you.”

  “No,” he snapped, backing the Morgan from the enclosure. “I don’t know what I’ll find, and I’m damn well not placing your life in danger.” He saw his fears reflected in her eyes. On a hard swallow he gathered the reins, then swung into the saddle. “Move aside, Annabelle.”

  Anguished eyes held his as she caught the halter. “Mon Dieu, do not tell me no. I’m riding with you.”

  The destructive power of the tornado aside, her eyes sparked a foreboding fire all their own. Precious time ticked away as he held her gaze. Her chin lifted another demanding notch as if a dare.

  “Fine.” Teeth clenched, he leaned down, hauled her up, and settled her across his lap.

  She rested against him.

  Too aware of the sweet press of her body, he muttered a curse, then tightened his arm around her waist. “Hold on.”

  With a sharp command, Brennen kicked the gelding into a gallop out the stable.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The closer Brennen rode to Mount Maple the worse his fears grew. Limbs, uprooted trees, canvas tenting, and mounds of splintered furniture lay heaped across the area and more resembled a war-ravaged battlefield than a place of peace and hope.

  Leaning low, his arm secure around Annabelle, he urged the horse to jump one downed limb after another. As he rounded the last curve, he drew the gelding to a halt several yards before the broken outline of the church.

  The ferocity of the tornado had ripped off a huge section of the roof, haphazardly spewing the debris in piles across the ground. Broken glass glinted in the late afternoon light, but – sonofabitch – here, too, the bricks created from his land held firm.

  Nerves rattled, he eased Annabelle to the ground, and then dismounted as the nuns and several injured workers stumbled from the gaping hole that’d once held the front door.

  Before he could caution her of the dangers, Annabelle scrambled across the wreckage toward the frazzled group. “Mon Dieu, sisters, are all of you safe?”

  “Non…Non…” Sister Francois Clare pointed toward where their cabins once stood. A look of desperation darkened her plump features as blood oozed from the cuts on her face. “Just b-before the storm hit, the abbess rushed back for the crucifix on her wall.” The nun collapsed to her knees. “S-She didn’t return to the church.”

  On heaving sobs, the other nuns joined her in prayer.

  Brennen swerved toward the destruction. Smoke swirled in wispy streaks across the rubble. “Stay here!”

  He picked his way across the tangle of splintered tree limbs and wood. Unbidden, his thoughts swirled back to Virginia. As if yesterday, he recalled the clash of forces at the Wilderness, the shrieks of dying soldiers as they burned, and that horror-filled moment when he’d discovered a wounded Reece Cutteridge, the love of his sister’s life, lying near death on the Orange Plank Road.

  Now, like then, chaos ruled. He stifled the memory and edged forward, avoiding the shifting wreckage.

  The smoke changed direction. Fire erupted around him. Orangish-red flames seared, the heat scalding as he crawled through nature’s horror-strewn battlefield. He assessed the danger as he moved, deducting where the Reverend Mother’s cabin had sat. I should be just about--

  “There,” Annabelle screamed behind him as she worked her way over the debris. “That’s the spot of her cottage.”

  God’s Teeth! He should’ve known she would follow him.

  He turned in time to see her straddle a fallen log, the hem of her skirt crumpled in her hands. The excess material, her pantalets, and her stripped-stockinged legs too close to the flames.

  “Stop Annabelle!” he shrieked, fear for her safety multiplying. His voice cracked as sweat poured down his face, the tangy taste bitter on his tongue. “Don’t come closer. The fire might shift at any moment and you’ll be trapped.”

  “Let me help you,” she yelled, inching forward several more feet. A flame erupted beside her. She screamed, and lunged sideways.

  “Damnit. Go back! I’ll find her.” A wagon rumbled to a halt near his horse, and relief swept Brennen as Jubal and Jasper jumped to the ground. “Over here,” he roared above the pop and sizzle of burning wood. “The abbess might be trapped inside.”

  The men worked their way toward him as Ruby climbed from the rig. She raced toward the wounded workers, hollering, “Miz Annabelle, let ‘dem handle ‘dis. Yo’s only get in dere way.”

  On a grateful sigh, Brennen watched as Annabelle turned back to rejoin the women. With a desperate look his way, she eased Sister Francois Clare to her feet, then turned to assist Ruby with the wounded.

  A few seconds later, the men reached Brennen. He instructed them to circle around to the opposite side of the pile. “I can’t see a damned thing beneath the remnants of this roof,” he said. “Grab the side and help me lift the main beam.”

  They nodded, tugging on the splintered wood.

  A tree trunk shifted.

  “Wait!” Brennen grabbed the limb. Straining, his shoulder pressed against the wood, he heaved the heavy piece aside.

  “Go slow,” he ordered, as they slid aside more debris, sodden clothing, and another downed limb. Fear the abbess had been crushed beneath all the weight rode heavy on his heart. “Reverend Mother!” he yelled into the small opening they’d created. “Can you hear me?”

  The crackle of flames filled the silence.

  On a curse, he shoved against another splintered limb. His breath caught as he spotted the sodden black materi
al of a nun’s habit. “She’s here!” he shouted. “Help me lift this.”

  With each limb Brennen removed, the opening widened, until, finally, sunlight flashed across a glint of gold. What the hell? He scraped his gaze back. A crucifix? Yes. And her small, blue-veined hand tightly wrapped the object.

  Fire erupted near his shoulder, the flames obviously sparked from a lantern that’d shattered inside the cabin when the building collapsed. Heat blistered him as he cleared away more debris, his gaze centered on the black cloth, looking for any movement, any sign of life, any sound from the mouth that had carried salvation to God knew how many lost and lonely souls.

  A faint moan escaped from beneath the rubble.

  “Wait!” he snapped, palm raising. “Listen.”

  The men straightened.

  Brennen shifted closer to the opening. “Abbess,” he called, “Can you hear me?”

  Another cry, this time louder.

  A moment later, the Reverend Mother crawled from beneath a heavy metal bedframe and craned her wrinkled face upward. A gash across her forehead oozed blood, the white wimple enveloping her head stained red. More cuts slashed her pale, paper-thin cheeks.

  Rummy blue eyes locked on his as she offered an unsteady smile. “Y-Yes, monsieur…I-I am here.”

  Relief engulfed Brennen as a strained smile cracked his own lips. “Don’t move. I’m almost there.”

  The nun coughed, then shifted. Her trembling hand rose, lifted the crucifix through the opening. “T-Take this,” she pleaded, the words barely audible. “S’il vous plaît.”

  Brennen snagged the heavy cross, shoving the piece to Jasper. A second later, he shifted back through the opening. “Stay still. I’m coming closer.”

  “Non, le feu…the fire! Tis t-too dangerous!” She coughed again as more smoke billowed around her. Flames gobbled a cluster of papers. “”The sisters?” she rasped. “A-Are they safe?”

  “Yes, everyone’s fine.”

  “Dieu soit loué! G-Give the crucifix to them, and save yourselves.”

  “Quit your yappin’, woman. You know better than to argue with me. I’m a scoundrel, remember?” As he slid onto his belly, another lopsided grin lifted his lips. “’Sides, you’re too damned ornery to die like this. Don’t move. I’m lifting you out.”