The Matrimony Plan

by Christine Johnson

  God, help me.

  She didn’t dare breathe lest the man hear her.

  Someone grunted and set a small crate or box near the front of the cave.

  “Hurry, before we’re spotted,” the leader said.

  Though Felicity couldn’t make out what was in the crates, she knew it had to be illegal. A spidery cold sweat crept over her limbs.

  Painful seconds later, another man brought a second crate and stacked it atop the first. As he adjusted it, something clinked. She’d thought that sound was metal on metal before, but it wasn’t. It was glass.

  Alcohol. It had to be alcohol. Vanesia Lawrence’s blind pig got liquor from somewhere. It had come in during state Prohibition, and it continued to arrive during federal Prohibition.

  The leader waved his pistol. Alcohol and guns were a bad combination.

  She made herself small as crate after crate was stacked across the opening of the cave to form a low wall. At first she was relieved, because the crates partially hid her, but then she realized that soon they would box her in. If the wall was only one crate thick, she could push through, but if the men made several rows, she’d be trapped, unable to get out. She had to leave now, before all hope of escape was gone.

  Several deep breaths calmed her racing mind, and soon she saw the way. Crates arrived every fifteen to twenty seconds. Between deliveries, the leader faced toward the river to watch his men. He didn’t realize someone was behind him in the cave. He wouldn’t see her if she slipped past while he was watching his men, but she had to be quick—and quiet.

  She waited until the deliveryman headed down to the river and the leader turned to watch him. After taking a deep breath, she crawled forward on her hands and knees. Stones bit into her flesh, and the dampness drove a chill deep into her bones.

  She paused at the narrow opening, ready to dart out, when the leader turned and coughed. In a flash, she scurried behind the wall of crates and waited to see if she’d been discovered.

  “Hurry,” the leader growled to one of his men.

  She could breathe again. He hadn’t spotted her.

  Soon she heard the thrashing of the deliveryman. There was only room for a couple more crates, and then the cave would be sealed shut. She waited until she heard the crate drop and then stifled her alarm when the man pushed it into the empty space. She’d have to climb over it and hope she was quick enough and quiet enough to avoid detection.

  Her palms were clammy and her breath shallow. She had no choice. She had to attempt it.

  She crouched, poised to jump, and the moment she heard footsteps moving away, she scrambled over the crate. Then she froze. The leader stood too close to the front of the cave. She had barely a foot of space to slip behind him. How could she get past without drawing notice? But she had no choice. If she went back into the cave, she’d be trapped.

  Heart pounding, she slid sideways behind the man, praying he didn’t sense her.

  “Your turn,” one of the men at the boat grumbled. “I done more’n half already.”

  “Quiet,” the leader hissed, stepping forward.

  The exchange gave Felicity the diversion she needed. She sprinted toward the path, but on the third step the ground gave way and she crashed downward, making enough noise to alert the entire town.

  The leader whipped around and shined the lantern at her. “Who’s there?”

  Felicity flattened herself against the ground. Lord, please make me invisible.

  “What are you doing?” the leader said much more clearly. He’d removed the handkerchief from his face.

  Shock prickled her skin with a thousand sharp needles. She knew that voice, only now it didn’t reflect the simpering idiocy of the dandy. This Robert Blevins was strong and sure and most decidedly not the man he’d claimed to be.

  She heard him step closer, and then he cocked the gun.

  Dear God. She was going to die.

  Gabriel followed at Kensington’s heels. The woods were quiet that night, too quiet for a smuggling operation. Perhaps Gabriel had been wrong and the bootleggers had moved to another location. That would explain Kensington’s lack of concern that they were headed to the site of his illicit activities.

  The man crashed through the woods, guided only by the weak glow of the flashlight. Of course he knew the way. He’d spent his entire life here. Unlike Gabriel, who had to use a bent tree as a marker, Kensington could head right to the spot.

  Within minutes, they reached the root cellar. No one was there, not even the sheriff. Kensington shined his flashlight at the cellar doors, not bothering to disguise the fact that he knew its location.

  “All right,” Kensington grunted as he lifted the first door. “Let’s see what we have.” He directed the light inside. “Felicity?”

  The woods came alive with a flurry of crackling and shouts.

  “Freeze and put your hands in the air.”

  Gabriel jumped and raised his hands, even though he knew it had to be Sheriff Ilsley.

  Kensington didn’t bother. “What on earth are you doing, Sheriff? I went to your office looking for help finding my Felicity, and now I see you’re sitting out here in the woods.”

  Ilsley lowered his gun. “Felicity’s missing?”

  “Didn’t I just say that?” Kensington growled. “Now put that thing away and help me find her.”

  Ilsley looked at Gabriel. “But if you’re here, then where…?” He didn’t finish, but Gabriel knew the question. Where are the bootleggers?

  Gabriel shrugged. “We don’t know.” The answer fit equally well with a missing person or a missing group of bootleggers.

  Ilsley still looked confused. He directed his gaze at Kensington. “But I thought…”

  “There’s no time for talk,” Kensington said gruffly. “My Felicity’s missing, and it’s getting cold. Are you going to help me comb these woods?”

  The sheriff holstered his pistol. “Of course, but let’s not go about this like chickens with their heads cut off. We need a plan of attack.” The sheriff pulled off his hat, ran a hand through his hair, and then replaced the hat. “Is she alone?”

  “As far as I know,” Kensington growled.

  “Any ideas where she might have gone?”

  Gabriel hated covering the same ground while Felicity waited somewhere for rescue. “We’ve discussed this already, Sheriff, and we’ve checked everywhere we thought she might be. Her brother, Blake, is calling her friends and acquaintances. I thought she might have taken a walk in the park and got lost.”

  “Lost?” said Kensington. “She’s lived here her whole life.”

  “Except for school,” Gabriel pointed out. Highbury School for Girls. If Mariah’s friends were correct, the society girls there would have eaten Felicity alive. “She did go to school in New York City, right?”

  Kensington dismissed his idea. “A person doesn’t forget their hometown in a few years.”

  “Gentlemen,” Ilsley interrupted, “this is getting us nowhere. I say we split up to cover as much ground as possible.” He quickly assigned sections of town to two of his four deputies. “The rest of you come with me.”

  Still, Gabriel felt they weren’t looking in the right place. Rain streamed off his hat and down his neck. Felicity couldn’t stand a night exposed to these conditions.

  “Pastor, you take Main Street,” Kensington said. “I’ll take Oak. All right, boys, let’s spread out.”

  Ilsley looked at Gabriel. “Perhaps we should pray first.”

  The suggestion shot through Gabriel with clear precision.

  He should have been the one to suggest it. He was the minister.

  Ashamed, Gabriel bowed his head. Slinky still pulled at the leash, and worry riddled his thoughts. He couldn’t hear God’s still voice when the woman he loved was in danger. He said a rudimentary prayer and hoped God would understand.

  As soon as he finished, the sheriff split them into teams of two. Gabriel found himself paired with Kensington again.

&nbs
p; “You take the area from the parsonage through Kensington Estates, and I’ll head toward the Grange Hall,” the sheriff said. “We’ll find her, Branford.”

  “Follow me,” Kensington said, heading toward the parsonage.

  At that moment, Slinky chose to tug at the leash, pulling Gabriel in the opposite direction, toward the river. In a flash, he remembered how Slinky had wanted to go upriver rather than toward the root cellar. Did the dog sense or smell something?

  “Wait a minute, Sheriff, Mr. Kensington,” he called out, bringing the men to a halt. “I have an idea. Follow me.”

  “Where?”

  Gabriel gave Slinky free rein and took off toward the river. “Just follow me.” It would take too long to explain and argue out the merits of following a dog. It was better to go on faith.

  They crashed through the woods and were soon back on the path, headed upriver. They passed the pavilion, dark and silent, and reentered the forest.

  “Where are you going?” Kensington huffed as he struggled to keep up the pace. “My Felicity would never walk this way. She’s too delicate.”

  Gabriel just kept plowing forward, more and more certain with every step. Slinky pulled hard on the leash, leading him closer to the river. Now he could hear the water rushing past, tumbling over the rocks that made up the little rapids.

  Aside from their bumbling and panting, the forest was quiet. Even the rain had stopped, and Gabriel unbuttoned his coat. The cool night air felt good but not as good as knowing they’d soon find Felicity.

  “Come on, boy,” he urged. Gabriel was almost running now, his feet as sure as a boy’s. Roots, branches and stones meant nothing in the pursuit of Felicity.

  Then, off to his right, he heard a man yell in surprise. A second later, a gunshot rang out and a woman screamed.

  Gabriel dropped Slinky’s leash and ran.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Felicity stared at the barrel of the gun. The puff of smoke had drifted off, but Robert kept the pistol pointed at her head. Her heartbeat swooshed in her ears, and she couldn’t have stood even if she could get her legs to move.

  “R-Robert,” she stammered, unable to think coherently. He’d just shot at her. Robert, the man she’d once wanted to make her husband.

  “Shh,” he hissed. “Not a word. Do you understand? Not one word.”

  She heard the menace behind the words as well as their implicit threat: or else the next bullet will be in your head.

  She couldn’t swallow, could barely breathe. Her arms ached from the awkward position, but she dared not move. If she flinched, he’d kill her. His hand stayed steady, the pistol level. Next time he wouldn’t miss.

  Is this how the buffalo had felt before Daddy shot him? And the gazelles and antelope? Had they cringed and prayed for salvation? Had they recounted every mistake they’d made?

  How wrong she’d been about Robert. He was no engineer. It had all been a pretense to cover his criminal activities. She should have known. A real engineer wouldn’t constantly forget his instruments or carelessly leave them lying about. A real engineer would have assessed the weight problem of the stained glass window in minutes.

  If only Gabriel was here. She’d known he was the man for her that first day but hadn’t wanted to accept she could love a poor man with no social standing. What a fool she’d been to throw away the best man she’d ever known. Now she faced death never having told him how she really felt.

  The rest of the smugglers readied the boat in haste, no longer caring how much noise they made. “Ready, boss.”

  Robert cocked the gun again, and she tensed, steeling herself for the pain of the bullet. Would he aim for her head or her heart? Would the shot be true? She feared the pain, not death, for God had promised her a heavenly home if she placed all her trust in Him.

  She closed her eyes and prayed. Dear Lord, please forgive my countless offenses. I’m not worthy, but I pray You will remember me and let me enter Your kingdom. Above all, please look after Luke and give him a loving home where he will be cherished and grow strong. Let him know that You will always be his Father.

  Somehow, praying for Luke brought peace. She waited for the sound of gunfire, waited for the searing pain of the bullet tearing through her flesh. Instead, a dog barked. A dog? Even in the dim light of Robert’s shuttered lantern, she recognized the black-and-white bundle of fur.

  “Slinky.”

  And by his side stood Gabriel, her Gabriel. Hope surged, but fear came quick on its heels.

  “Robert has a gun,” she warned.

  “I see that.” Gabriel knelt by her side and wrapped his raincoat around her shoulders.

  Didn’t he understand? “He’ll hurt you. H-he’ll kill you.” Her teeth started chattering uncontrollably.

  “Maybe you’d better listen to her, Reverend,” Robert snapped.

  Gabriel paid him no attention. “Shh,” he whispered, holding her close. “I’ll never leave you.”

  “Gabriel.” She buried her face in his wonderful cotton shirt. “I’m so sorry. Don’t risk your life for me.”

  He lifted her face and looked deep into her eyes. “I will risk everything for you. I love you, Felicity Kensington. Never doubt that. I love you.”

  The last of her strength disintegrated. “You do?” The tears returned. “B-but why? I was so prideful. I treated you terribly.”

  He smothered her confession with a kiss, and at last his words sank in. He loved her. He truly loved her, no matter who she was.

  He cupped her face in both hands, and in the light of the lantern, she saw such love that the tears flowed again.

  “Don’t ever leave me again,” he said. “Promise?”

  She nodded, eyes brimming.

  Robert sneered, “Very touching, Reverend. I could almost fall for that little show of concern myself. What you didn’t tell her is why you’re really here tonight.”

  Felicity glared at Robert. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the reverend’s real agenda, if he even is a minister. That’s right, Ms. Kensington. Everything is not what it seems. Tell me, Reverend, how you knew where to find us. Care to tell me why first Ms. Kensington appeared and then you showed up tonight.”

  Gabriel tensed, and she wanted to comfort him, but he stepped away from her to face Robert.

  “Considering you’re the one leveling a gun at us,” Gabriel said, “you have some gall to claim I’m the one with the false agenda. Shoot me, if you must, but let Felicity go. She has nothing to do with this charade you’ve concocted.”

  “No,” she cried. Gabriel couldn’t die, not when she finally realized how much she loved him. She stood beside him. “If you shoot Gabriel, you’ll have to shoot me.”

  Gabriel pulled her behind him. “Don’t be a martyr.”

  Her heart pummeled her rib cage. Her knees wobbled. She hardly felt like a martyr.

  Robert’s head suddenly jerked toward her left, and he lowered the pistol. “Sheriff. It’s about time.” He tucked the gun under his jacket.

  “What?” Felicity blinked, utterly confused. Robert acted like he expected to see the sheriff, who scampered down the riverbank with a deputy on his heels.

  Gabriel pointed at Robert. “Arrest this man.”

  Robert just smirked.

  Felicity looked from Robert to the sheriff, searching for answers. Had the entire world gone off-kilter? She reached for Gabriel, trying to find something solid.

  “I waited for you at the root cellar,” the sheriff said to Robert. “That was the plan.”

  Felicity’s hope sank with a heavy thud. If Sheriff Ilsley was waiting for Robert and Robert was waiting for the sheriff, that meant they were in on this together. Why hadn’t she seen it before? Mrs. Lawrence’s blind pig never got raided, even though everyone knew she sold liquor. The only reason Mrs. Lawrence stayed in business must be because the sheriff looked the other way. For a cut of the profits, he let men like Robert smuggle liquor into town unchallenged.
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  She sucked in her breath. That meant she and Gabriel were far from safe. The sheriff would not want anyone to know about his part in the bootlegging operation. He’d kill them and ensure their bodies were never found.

  “Lord, help us,” she whispered as Robert consulted with the sheriff.

  Gabriel drew her close. “He will.”

  At least they’d die together and walk hand in hand into the Lord’s kingdom. She pressed to his side, waiting for the inevitable report of a gun firing and the subsequent blow of the bullet piercing her body.

  Gabriel cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Sheriff, but your bootleggers are getting away down the river.”

  How could Gabriel think the sheriff would care about the bootleggers when he was clearly one of them?

  To her astonishment, Ilsley directed his deputy to head toward the river. “DeWalt, you’d better join us.”

  “DeWalt?” Who was DeWalt? She didn’t know anyone by that name in Pearlman.

  “DeWalt?” Gabriel echoed, but the men, including Robert, were already crashing down the slope, Slinky close behind.

  They’d left Gabriel and her alone, free to escape.

  “What’s happening?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know, but I’m not waiting around to find out. Follow me.”

  Felicity held tight to Gabriel. “But I can’t see.”

  “Wait for your eyes to adjust,” he whispered back. “I can already see the trees.”

  She panicked. “I can’t.”

  He held her close. “Just put your arms around my waist and follow me. I’ll get you home safely.”

  Home? The thought sent another flood of tears to the surface. “I have no home.”

  He hugged her close. “You always have a home, just as you always have a Heavenly Father.”

  The calm assurance she’d felt in the cave returned. Yes, she did have a Father who would never abandon her.

  “Be brave,” he said.

  Brave. The word brought a surge of strength. With God’s help, she could be brave. She could survive.