Tillie poured three cups of coffee and served sandwiches to the trio of men who’d dragged in minutes earlier, reporting they’d seen no sign of the little girl. With apologetic glances in Tessa’s direction, the men spoke quietly of the ground they’d covered and the thoroughness of their search. Tillie listened to their exchange with a sinking heart as they gulped down their food.
One of the men talked around the bite of sandwich in his mouth. “We heard that one rifle shot. Hoped it meant the little one had been found, but”—he shrugged—“there weren’t but one shot, so we kept lookin’.”
The other men nodded, and one of them jerked his thumb toward another pair of searchers. “Todd Finnigan said he took a shot at a wolf he saw in the distance, but the critter was out of range.”
Tillie glanced toward Mr. Finnigan, who was filling a lantern with coal oil. Though discouraged over not having found Susan yet, none of the men who’d come back for a fresh horse or something to eat talked of giving up. For that, Tillie was grateful.
Tillie carried a canteen to the pump at the side of the building and worked the handle up and down, filling the vessel. She fastened the closure and crossed the yard to hand the canteen to Todd Finnigan.
“Mr. Finnigan, where was that wolf you saw?”
The dancing light from the torches seemed to deepen the worry lines in the man’s face. “Southwest of here, across Devil’s Backbone Hill, near the edge of the woods.”
Tillie shook her head slightly. “Do you really think Susan could have wandered that far?”
He accepted the canteen and shrugged. “Who knows? I’ve seen little ones move faster than the parents thought they could.” He slung the canteen onto his shoulder. “Personally, I hope she’s found right here, holed up in some little out-of-the-way nook no one thought to check. I know you ladies are still looking all over town.” He tugged the brim of his hat and picked up the lantern. “Thanks for the water and the grub.”
The man stepped beyond the torchlight and disappeared into the darkness. With a sigh, Tillie poured another cup of coffee and picked up the old quilt she and Ben had sat upon hours earlier. So much had transpired—the picnic was a faded memory. She crossed the yard to the church steps and handed Tessa the cup. Tessa shook her head, but Tillie nudged it toward her insistently. “Drink it. You need something in your stomach.” She unfolded the quilt and draped it around Tessa’s trembling shoulders. “Mrs. Witherspoon, why don’t you go get yourself something to eat. I’ll stay with Tessa.”
The pastor’s wife smiled and rose, nodding toward the church door. “Some of the ladies have started a continuous prayer time inside. Two or three are in there praying right now. After a while some others will spell them.”
Tillie nodded. “I’ll join them in a bit.” She sat down and slipped her arm around Tessa. “Did you get any sleep?”
Tessa shook her head. “No, but Mrs. Witherspoon made me rest even if I couldn’t sleep.” She released a shaky sigh. “Oh Tillie, what if—”
“Stop!” Tillie held up her hand. “Don’t even think like that. There are dozens of men out there combing every inch of the woods and meadows and hills.” She rubbed Tessa’s back. “Mr. Finnigan said she’s probably right around here somewhere in a place we haven’t looked. She’ll wake up hungry and start crying for you, and wonder what all the fuss is about.”
Tessa nodded and took a swallow of coffee. “Has Everett come back yet?”
At the mention of his name, a rush of warmth filled Tillie’s chest and traveled up her neck. She shook her head. “No, not yet. I’m sure he’s just being thorough.” She didn’t voice the fear that had run through her head a dozen times already. He’s not as familiar with these hills as the other men. What if he got turned around and can’t find his way back to the church?
Tessa’s soft voice broke into her thoughts. “I’m sure he’ll come in anytime now.”
Tillie blinked at her friend’s insight and unselfish expression of comfort. “Of course he’s fine. So is Susan. We’re the ones who have the hardest job of all—waiting.”
“Matilda.”
Tillie glanced up to see her father trudging across the yard. “Da.” She trotted over to greet him, clutching his arm the instant they met. There was no need to ask the question that burned in her heart. Da’s weary eyes and discouraged countenance gave her all the answers she needed. “Da, come and sit down. I’ll bring you some coffee and a sandwich.”
“’Twould be a blessin’, for sure.” He sat on the grass and leaned back on his elbows.
Tillie hurried to the table and assembled a sandwich from leftover chicken. Having a task to occupy her hands vented some of her nervous energy, but her mind and heart still yearned to see Everett emerge from the darkness. Immediately, her conscience was smitten. “Lord, it’s selfish to think of my own feelings for Everett at a time like this.” She glanced over her shoulder at Tessa, who remained on the church steps, looking forlorn with Tillie’s quilt draped around her. “Lord, please surround little Susan with Your angels, and bring her back home to Tessa and Gideon.” She put the sandwich on a tin plate. “Since You’re already working in the midst of this crisis, I beg You, heavenly Father, to bring Everett back safely as well.”
She took her father the food and coffee and sat next to him while he ate. He took a noisy slurp. “Ah, ’tis good coffee. It’ll warm up me innards.”
Tillie scanned the yard, taking in the handful of men, some of whom had just arrived and others who were preparing to go back out. Her gaze moved from left to right until it landed on Tessa. Every time she looked at her friend, Tillie’s heart cramped. Da also glanced in Tessa’s direction, a deep furrow in his brow.
“Poor girl.” He shook his head.
“Da, do you have any idea what areas the men have covered?”
Da munched on his sandwich and chased it down with a swallow of coffee. “Hubert Behr said he and Phillip planned to cover the area from his house south and east. Jed Brewer said he and his boy would go straight east from town to the Clermont road and then circle back toward the north. I covered the stretch between here and our place. Then I headed west a ways and crossed back to that rocky place in the hills where you kids used to go and play.” He took another bite. “Has Everett been back yet?”
Tillie shook her head. “When he left here, he was going toward the woods.”
Da stuffed the last bite of sandwich into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Mm. He planned to search through the woods. I told him a bit about the lay of the land, him bein’ here only a year. Showed him on a sketch how the woods curve to the northwest and meet Devil’s Backbone Hill. That’s the area he was searchin’. You say he ain’t been back in? He should have covered that area by now.”
The blood in Tillie’s veins froze, and a quiver shuddered through her that had nothing to do with the chill in the air. “Devil’s Backbone?”
“Aye.” Da hoisted himself to his feet.
Tillie scrambled to snatch Da’s sleeve before he could take a step. “Da, Mr. Finnigan said he spotted a wolf near there. He took a shot at it, but it was too far away.”
“Ah, that must’ve been the shot I heard.” He slipped his arm around her. “Don’t fret, daughter. Everett can take care of himself.”
“But Da, he didn’t take a gun with him.”
Da halted his steps and turned to face her. “Why in heaven’s name not?”
She lifted her shoulders. “I don’t think he owns one, but that’s not important now. Da, he’s out there tramping around in the dark, unarmed, in an area where a wolf was sighted.”
Da’s lips thinned into a grim line, and he cast a hard squint toward the woods. “Fetch me a lantern, daughter. Is Finnigan still here?”
Tillie shook her head. “He left about fifteen minutes before you came in.” She pointed in the direction the man headed when he left. “He went that way.”
Her father blew out a stiff breath and crossed the yard where two other men with lanterns were
preparing to head back out. Tillie scurried to the makeshift table to do her father’s bidding. Her hands shook as she tilted the can to pour coal oil into the lantern reservoir, and she spilled some on the table. The acrid odor of the lantern fuel burned her nose, but it was the image in her mind of Everett encountering a wolf in the dark that brought tears to her eyes.
The image in Everett’s mind of Tillie’s wide green eyes the last time he saw her accompanied him as he tramped through the dark with little Susan in his arms. The moon continued to play hide-and-seek, at times casting the hillside in brightness, sometimes shedding just enough light for him to take a few steps, and sometimes slipping behind a cloud, encasing him in blackness.
He paused, waiting for the nocturnal light to make its appearance again. Susan whimpered against his shoulder and tightened her grip around his neck. He patted her back.
“It’s all right. The moon is just playing a game with us. It will peek out again in a minute.” To soothe the child, he started to sing.
“Rock of Ages, cleft for me; let me hide myself in Thee.” The words spilled comfort over him, reminding him once again of the only hiding place he ever wanted to seek for the rest of his life. When he couldn’t remember all the words to the hymn, he hummed the melody.
Susan raised her head off his shoulder. “Ever, where’s my mama?”
Despite their precarious situation, Everett smiled. “She’s probably at the church waiting for us, honey.” He patted her again, and she laid her head back down.
He continued humming. A moment later the moon reemerged, spilling pocketfuls of pale radiance across the meadow. The trees at the edge of the woods had mostly lost their leaves, casting grotesque shadows like dancing skeletons. Everett peeked down at Susan and was glad to see her head faced away from the spooky patterns.
“Rock of Ages, cleft for me; let me hide myself in Thee. Hmm-mm, hmm-mm.”
The wind picked up again, raising gooseflesh on his arms and across the back of his neck. Everett couldn’t be sure of the time. He hadn’t bothered to wear his watch and chain when he dressed for the picnic, not that he could have dug it out of his pocket without disturbing Susan anyway. How long had it been since the sun had set? Two hours? Three? Curious how being far from town and enveloped in darkness skewed one’s judgment of the passing of time. As chilled as he was, it felt like he’d been walking all night.
Using the edge of the woods as his guide, he pressed forward, praying he was heading in the right direction. What if he was headed away from town?
Please, Lord, lead me home.
Weariness made his feet feel like they were wading through a snowbank. His stomach growled, reminding him he’d not eaten for hours. How much longer had it been since Susan had eaten? His arms tightened around the little girl. She wasn’t complaining. Of course, he guessed she was more tired than hungry. His own fatigue was beginning to toy with his sense of direction, not to mention his ability to think straight. Even the sounds of the night teased him into imagining things, like the eerie howl he thought he heard a moment ago. Nonsense. It was just the wind.
The rifle shot he’d heard—how long ago had that been?—seemed to echo through the woods. It was impossible to tell from which direction it had come. Was it the darkness or exhaustion that made him so disoriented?
He took a step, and the ground beneath his foot gave way. His ankle turned, shooting pain up his leg as his balance faltered. He stiffened his back to keep from falling. Steadying himself with his left foot, he pulled the right one free of the gaping burrow—probably a gopher hole. He gritted his teeth and took several deep breaths, waiting for the throbbing to recede. After a few minutes he tried putting weight on the injured foot. Sharp spasms wrapped around his ankle, but he managed to walk. His uneven gait jostled Susan, but she didn’t protest.
His body cried out for rest. When he’d first gathered Susan into his arms and snuggled her onto his shoulder to keep her warm, she had been light as a feather. Now she felt like some of the crates he hauled on and off the freight wagon every day. How could one small girl weigh so much? His back ached, and the scars on his shoulder burned as they stretched under his precious burden.
Just put one foot in front of the other.
Susan stirred in his arms, and he peeked down at her. “Are you all right, Susan?”
No response.
“Susan?” He angled his head and tried to see if her eyes were closed, but judging by her limp form, she’d fallen asleep. Good. At least if she was asleep, she wouldn’t be frightened. Hopefully, the next time she opened her eyes, he would be handing her to her mother.
The moon disappeared behind a cloud again, forcing him to stop. He needed to rest his ankle anyway. He tugged the collar of his shirt up a little higher around Susan’s neck. While he waited for the cloud to ride across the sky and reveal the moon again, he tried to train his eyes to pierce through the darkness. A tiny pinpoint of light floated across his bleary vision. A firefly? He fixed his stare on the friendly insect.
“How nice of you to keep us company in the middle of the night,” he said. But not only did this firefly stay in one place; its glow also didn’t fade. Everett frowned. Fireflies were plentiful in the warm months of summer, but in late September in the brisk autumn temperatures? The firefly still didn’t move.
“That’s not a firefly.” His pulse picked up. Was he so drained of strength he was seeing things? He glanced at the sky and was rewarded with a glimpse of the moon’s glow at the edge of the cloud. In a few moments he could proceed again.
A flash of panic struck him. He’d taken his eyes off the firefly—or whatever it was—to search for the moon. He jerked his eyes forward again. There it was. His breath deepened with a stirring of hope.
Thin moonlight once again splashed softly across the hillside. The pinpoint of light shone like a beacon through the edge of the woods. He set his course straight in its direction, like a ship toward a lighthouse. Periodically the firefly disappeared as he picked his way through the trees, but it always reappeared. Underbrush snagged his trouser legs and threatened to trip him, but he limped on.
Two fireflies now winked ahead of him. His heart accelerated. It had to be the town. His ankle ached with every step, and Susan still lay like deadweight on his shoulder, stretching the scarred tissue, but the discomfort no longer mattered. Fresh determination propelled him through the woods.
Two lights became three, peeking in and out of the brush. He became vaguely aware that he was panting. He stubbed his foot against something hard and unforgiving. A rock? Without shifting Susan, he extended his leg, poking the obstacle with his foot. A fallen tree.
Not wishing to lose sight of the lights, he slid his left leg over the tree trunk, but doing so meant putting all his weight on his painful right ankle. He clamped his teeth and bit back the groan that tried to escape. Lowering his torso to straddle the tree, he carefully swung the other leg over and rose. Susan remained slumped against him. As he stood, his eyes searched through the woods for the lights to anchor his position. Was it his imagination, or did he smell coffee?
His throbbing ankle begged him to stop, but the flickering lights drew him. They grew and danced between the trees. A soft glow outlined a rooftop and a steeple. He’d found the church. A joy-filled shout gathered deep within his chest, but his throat constricted, preventing the expression of exultation from escaping. It was just as well. He didn’t want to frighten Susan. He limped past the edge of the woods and came to the feathery cedar trees that lined the churchyard—the same cedars he’d used as a hiding place countless times. With a prayer of thanksgiving on his lips, he stepped beyond the refuge of the cedars and into the torch and lantern light.
Chapter 16
Tillie tipped the can of coal oil to extract the last few drops into the reservoir of the lantern. Her brother Phillip stood a few paces away, blowing on a cup of coffee and taking tentative sips. All the men who’d straggled in throughout the evening looked just the way Phillip did,
bedraggled and discouraged, hungry and tired.
“Can I get something to eat, Tillie? I’m starved.”
If she hadn’t felt so emotionally battered, she’d have grinned. Phillip was always starved.
“All the picnic leftovers are gone. The women made sandwiches until we ran out of ham, chicken, and bread.” She set the coal oil can aside. “Mr. Kyle at the hotel said we could use the hotel kitchen to prepare food for everyone. As soon as I’m finished filling these lanterns—”
Her words were drowned out by a shout that rang through the still night air. In her distracted state, Tillie wasn’t sure she’d heard the words correctly, but she could have sworn it sounded like the person was praising God. She looked up and saw several people running. Another shout, then another. A jolt shot through her.
“Mercy, what’s happened?” She and Phillip both spun in the direction the folks were running. A jubilant chorus split the air. The sight that greeted her buckled her knees. When she opened her mouth, she couldn’t push out a single syllable, but her lips formed one silent word. Everett.
She was afraid to blink. Indescribable joy welled up within her and could not be contained. Grateful tears and pure laughter blended like a fine tapestry in her soul.
All the shouting awakened the sleeping child snuggled in Everett’s arms, and, apparently startled, Susan shrank closer and clung to him as he crossed the yard to the church steps. Tessa rose, her expression a mixture of elation and solace, gratitude and relief. Tears poured down her face as she reached out to receive her child.
Tillie slipped her hand up to cover her mouth, holding in the sobs as Everett placed Susan in her mother’s arms. Was that Everett’s shirt wrapped around the tyke? Unchecked tears seeped through her fingers as she witnessed the reunion for which they’d so fervently prayed. Instead of doing what she longed to do—running and throwing her arms around Everett’s neck—she stood nailed in place, watching others thump him on the back and pump his hand. Some of the ladies squeezed his arm, and Pearl stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.
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