Stay a Little Longer

by Dorothy Garlock

  Within the close confines of the kitchen, the two men did battle, each refusing to surrender even an inch to the other. After a terrific punch to the chin, Mason found himself momentarily dazed, but he kept fighting, connecting with one, two, and then three blows in succession. This time, the stranger snarled in response, pouncing like an animal on Mason, his hands clawing and digging into his flesh. Though his body ached from the fight, Mason’s fury at the man continued to urge him forward.

  “Fall, you son of a bitch!” Mason barked.

  “Never!”

  While he fought, Mason kept an eye on the fire that was rapidly spreading out of control. When the oil lamp fell, he’d been so preoccupied with confronting the other man that he hadn’t given it any thought; not until the unmistakable sounds and smells of the fire assailed him did he realize there was a much greater danger than just this one man.

  “Mason, the fire!” Rachel cried, panicked.

  Faced with protecting the woman he loved, Mason would do absolutely anything to keep her safe. He had stumbled upon the assault by accident; he’d come back downstairs just to hold her in his arms once more before the night was out.

  I will not lose my family again!

  Shoving the man away from him, Mason lashed out with a straight left that pounded his nose, causing an audible crack to explode into the room. The stranger fell back toward the stove, blood pouring out of the wound.

  Sensing he had little time to waste, Mason turned and shouted at Rachel. “Get everyone out of here!” he ordered, his voice already struggling to be heard over the growing fire.

  “But what about you?”

  Before Mason could answer, the man was again upon him, driving an elbow into the meat of his chest and another heavy punch into his gut. Pounding the stranger in the back, Mason shouted, “Do it, Rachel! Do it now!”

  For a moment longer, Rachel paused, but finally she ran from the kitchen to waken the family.

  With fire all around him, Mason turned back to his violent task.

  Rachel raced up the steps of the tall staircase two at a time. Holding her skirt in one hand and the railing in the other, she screamed, “Mother! Otis! Charlotte!”

  At the top of the stairs, she dashed to her mother’s door and whipped it open.

  Eliza, who had been sleeping peacefully, startled at the sound of intrusion.

  “What… what’s happening?”

  “Mother, get up,” Rachel answered, lowering her face until it was inches from Eliza’s. “The house is on fire. We need to get out.”

  “A fire?” her mother gasped. “But how did—”

  “There’s no time!” Rachel cut her off. “You get Otis. I’ll get Charlotte. We have to hurry!”

  Bursting into Charlotte’s room, Rachel ran to where the girl continued to sleep soundly in her bed and urgently tried to shake her awake, while Jasper immediately came to his feet.

  “Charlotte, wake up!” Rachel shouted. “Wake up!”

  The girl’s eyelids fluttered.

  “Come on, sweetheart!”

  Frustrated and fearful, Rachel picked the young girl up from the bed and cradled her against her chest; it had become apparent that no amount of encouragement was going to make the groggy child aware of the danger they were all facing.

  “Wha… what’s goin’ on?” Charlotte asked, a sleepy pout on her lips.

  “Let’s go, Jasper!” Rachel shouted, and the dog followed her command and ran for the door.

  When Rachel ran back out into the hallway, her arms straining to hold Charlotte’s slumped weight, her mother and Otis were coming toward them.

  “How in the hell did a fire start, anyhow?” he asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

  “Everyone outside, quickly!” Rachel ordered, wanting to make sure that everyone was safe before answering any questions.

  Descending the stairs more carefully than she had mounted them, Rachel waded into the dense and choking smoke that had filled the foyer. She made sure to keep Charlotte’s face close to her chest, and held her blouse’s sleeve over her own mouth. With every step, she strained to hear some sound from Mason, but none came.

  At the bottom of the stairs, unable to see Otis and her mother, though they were only a few feet away, Rachel was gripped by panic.

  “Where… where in the… name of tarnation… is the damn door?” Otis managed between coughs.

  Only minutes since the fire had been ignited in the kitchen, great waves of heat filled the boardinghouse.

  “Rachel?” her mother called from somewhere in the smoke behind her. “Where are you?”

  Just as Rachel was about to give in to her ever-mounting panic and just head straight ahead in the hope that she might chance upon a way out, the insistent sounds of Jasper’s barking split through the crackling sounds of the fire. Over and over he barked, as if he were calling to them.

  “Follow Jasper!” she cried. “Hurry!”

  In the smoky entryway, they stumbled toward the incessant barking until they found themselves up against the front door. It was just as Rachel had thought; Jasper was leading them to safety.

  With a grunt, Otis turned the knob, flung open the door, and they all ran outside as smoke poured into the night, rising skyward to mix with the still falling snow.

  Breathing in huge gulps of the frigid, fresh air, Rachel handed Charlotte to her mother and she turned to look back at the boardinghouse; at the part of the building where the fire had begun, tremendous pillars of flame licked out of broken windows.

  Someone was shouting, “Fire! Fire!”

  Rachel knew the boardinghouse was lost.

  But where is Mason?

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  AS BLOOD POURED FREELY from the stranger’s nose, Mason could see that the other man was finally weakening. His shoulders were slumped, his fists drifted down toward his waist, and he breathed heavily through his mouth, the clear result of both exhaustion and Mason’s debilitating punch. He knew that it was time to finish things.

  In the course of their battle, they had careened around the kitchen, down the smoke-choked hall, ending up in the seldom-used dining room. Behind them, catastrophe continued to rage as the boardinghouse burned uncontrollably. It had begun as a small spill of oil on the floor, but now it was an inferno. The sudden sound of the ceiling being rent asunder punctuated the sizzle and crack of leaping flames as the building itself was consumed.

  Though the smoke was thick, pouring around every corner in the search for a new space to fill, Mason refused to back down. With his lungs burning and watery eyes, his determination never wavered.

  “Just go down,” he grunted.

  “The only way… you’re gonna beat me… is to kill me,” the stranger huffed, his cut lips spitting blood.

  “That can be arranged,” Mason growled.

  For a moment, neither man moved, but suddenly Rachel’s attacker pounced, lunging with a punch that connected but, with his much-weakened state, wasn’t powerful enough to do any real damage. With a grunt, Mason retaliated, delivering a crushing blow to the man’s chin, sending him hurtling backward; his knees quivered, and he finally crashed to the floor. He tried to rise, but his senses had escaped him, and his head hit the wooden floor with a thud.

  End this now! Mason told himself.

  Striding over to the man, Mason meant to do just that, his fists still bunched to administer the crucial final blow. But just as he was about to reach down and snatch a handful of his opponent’s shirt, his foe pulled the knife he had hidden in his boot, and swung it in a dangerous arc. Its long blade reflected the light emanating from the raging fire and caught Mason in his forearm.

  Mason winced in pain. “Damn it!”

  Before the man could even rise to his elbows, Mason angrily kicked the blade out of his hand, sending it skittering across the floor and into the depths of the burning kitchen beyond, safely out of reach. He followed this with another kick to the stranger’s temple, rendering him incapable of further st
ruggle. A red gash trickled blood down Mason’s underarm, to his fingers, where it fell to the floor.

  His anger peaking, Mason bent down and grabbed the beaten man by the collar. His head lolled unsteadily as Mason yanked him up until their faces were only inches apart.

  “Who sent you here?” he demanded. “Why did you want to hurt Rachel?”

  “You… you got it… all wrong…” the man answered through bloody teeth.

  “Tell me, damn you!”

  “Weren’t her… that I was comin’ for… was you…”

  Shock rose in Mason’s face so quickly that he couldn’t mask it; when the stranger saw his reaction, he began to laugh, a wheezing, wet sound that struggled to fight its way out of his chest.

  “Who sent you?” Mason demanded, regaining his wayward thoughts, refusing to relent until he got an answer.

  “Shouldn’t… be… too damn… hard…”

  “Who?”

  “Your br… brother… Za… Zach…” And then the man was unable to answer any further, slipping off into the darkness of unconsciousness, his body surrendering to the pain of his beating. Mason let him fall to the floor. His fears had been realized; Zachary knew he was still alive.

  Reaching down, Mason grabbed the unmoving man and, with some effort, lifted him up over his shoulder. As he made his way to the rear of the house, he did all that he could to shield his weary, beaten body against the heat emanating from the kitchen and the hallway beyond. He staggered to the door the assailant had entered by, yanked it open, and stepped out into the cold November night. One thought consumed him.

  You will pay for what you have done. Brother, this I swear…

  Rachel paced back and forth in front of the blazing boardinghouse, nervously wringing her hands. The building had begun to fall apart before her very eyes; waves of flame roiled across the outside walls, windows shattered spectacularly on both floors, and the occasional crash of a collapsing beam echoed into the night. Jasper began to bark, as if he wanted their attention, but Rachel knew that there was nothing that anyone could do; their home was being destroyed.

  A small crowd of anxious neighbors had gathered in the November chill, offering their condolences and keeping a close eye that the fire would not spread any farther. The idea of forming a bucket chain had been suggested, but everyone present knew that it was far too little, far too late.

  “Isn’t there anything we can do?” Eliza fretted.

  “Too late for that.” Otis frowned. “All we’re gonna be left with is a bunch of hot embers for our trouble.”

  “At least you all made it out alive,” someone in the crowd added.

  Not everyone…

  All Rachel could think of was that Mason was still trapped inside the burning building. What a horrible choice he had forced her to make to leave him, but she knew that he had been right. Without warning, all of her family would have perished. But with every passing moment, her fear grew. Was he still fighting amid the flames?

  Just as she was about to throw caution to the wind and try to find a way back into the raging inferno, Mason suddenly came around the corner, the man who had accosted her slung over his shoulder, arms hanging limply in defeat. As Mason reached her, an audible gasp went up from somewhere in the crowd, from someone who clearly recognized the man who stood before them. As if he were dropping a sack of potatoes onto the ground, Mason tossed down the unconscious man.

  “Thank heaven you’re safe,” he whispered.

  Without a word, Rachel hurled herself into his arms. She couldn’t have cared less what anyone watching thought, content instead to bury her head into the crook of his neck as tears came to her eyes. Releasing her fear, sobs racked her body. All around them, whispered voices spoke.

  “How… how can it be?”

  “What happened to his face? How did he get scarred?”

  “But Mason Tucker is dead, isn’t he?”

  “He looks like a… a monster!”

  “There now,” Mason soothed Rachel, paying no heed to the chatter. “Everything’s all right.”

  “I… I did… did as you said…”

  “That you did.”

  From over Mason’s shoulder, Rachel could see her mother watching them, but though she had expected Eliza to have a disapproving look on her face, surprisingly, it was more one of curiosity. Hers was the only face that didn’t reflect shock at their embrace.

  “He told me that Zachary had sent him to look for me,” Mason explained when they had finally separated, nodding at the unconscious man. “You were right.”

  Rachel took no satisfaction from Mason’s words. “He’ll pay for what he’s done.”

  She began looking for Charlotte, wanting the young girl to join in their celebration, but glancing first from her mother, then to Otis, to Jasper, and eventually to the small crowd, she was surprised to find no sign of her. Shivers of dread raced down her spine. Suddenly, an earsplitting shriek managed to cut through the sounds of the raging fire.

  It was Charlotte’s voice… coming from inside the house.

  Mason raced up to the front door and, kicked at the blazing knob, driving it inward with a crack to reveal a raging inferno beyond. Towering flames reached across every surface, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake. Waves of incredible heat rolled over his skin.

  “How in the hell’re you gonna get in there?” Otis marveled.

  “She’ll be so scared, Mason!” Rachel pleaded. “You’ve got to get her!”

  “I won’t let her be hurt,” he vowed.

  Mason took a deep breath and, with his sleeve held tightly against his face, just as quickly as he could raced into the foyer and past the hungry flames, only stopping when he had reached the bottom of the staircase. For an instant, the ever-present heat brought back the horrors he had experienced on the battlefield, of the explosion that had scarred him and taken him away from those he loved, but he refused to let himself be distracted.

  “Charlotte!” he shouted. “Where are you? Answer me, child!”

  There was no answer save for the sounds of destruction.

  Suddenly, from somewhere behind him came the distinctive sound of a beam cracking, followed by the collapse of the dining room’s ceiling. Debris, mostly plaster and wood, rained down on the floor, victim to the fire’s relentless consumption of the boardinghouse. Still, in the din of noise, Mason heard the faintest of sounds, a voice, calling from the top of the stairs.

  “Daddy! Help me, Daddy!”

  It was Charlotte!

  Mason had no idea how his daughter had climbed back up to the second floor, especially after Rachel had succeeded in bringing her to safety, but he was far more concerned about reaching her again, saving his child from the flames.

  Before Mason, parts of the staircase burned in orange-and-yellow flame. Steeling himself, he raced quickly up the steps, leaping over a particularly nasty spot, but just as he tried righting himself by reaching out to the oaken banister, the railing gave way and he found himself balancing precariously, high above the burning floor below. Flailing his arms, he finally managed to regain his momentum before falling back on his rear.

  Damn it, Mason! You won’t be any good to Charlotte if you’re dead!

  Covering the short distance to the head of the stairs, Mason rushed to the open door to Charlotte’s room, flame pursuing him at nearly every turn. What he witnessed inside made his heart stop: Charlotte cowered in the far corner of the room, her hands clutched to her chest as everything around her collapsed into ruin. Part of the ceiling just inside the doorway had fallen in, leaving a twisted, burning heap of wood blocking any entry or exit; it had clearly been what had caused her to scream.

  “Charlotte?” Mason called. “Are you hurt?”

  “No… no… Daddy,” she whimpered.

  “Don’t move, honey,” he reassured her, fearful to frighten her further. “I’m coming to get you.”

  Taking two short steps back, his feet precariously close to the railing, Mason girde
d himself and then raced back to the door, leaping into the mess of wreckage and flame. Searing heat singed his arms, tugged at his hair, and sucked the very air from his lungs. For a short, painful moment, he wondered if he would manage to clear the pile of debris, or if he would become trapped, dying a horrible death before his daughter’s eyes, but somehow he continued on, landing in the relative safety beyond.

  Rushing to Charlotte, Mason took the frightened girl in his arms as tears streamed down her face.

  “What are you doing here, sweetheart?” he asked. “Why didn’t you stay with Rachel?”

  “I had to! I had to come back inside! I couldn’t let Mama’s treasure be lost!” Charlotte cried.

  “What are you talking about?”

  It was then that Charlotte revealed what she had been protectively clutching to her chest; Mason immediately recognized the well-read letter and worn photograph of Alice that Mason had given her.

  Uncontrollably, a smile came to Mason’s lips. While he wasn’t happy that Charlotte had placed herself in such danger, he couldn’t help but feel that she had done so out of love for her mother, even if her emotions had no memories to accompany them.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said.

  It was impossible for them to go back the way that he had come; even if he managed to get past the rubble at the door, he had no doubt that the flames had nearly finished their work on the stairs. The only option that remained to them was the window.

  The intense heat had already managed to crack the window’s pane, splitting it nearly in two; Mason merely finished what the fire had started, kicking out the damaged shards, clearing an exit with his boot. Pulling Charlotte tight to his chest, he said, “Hold on to me as tightly as you can and don’t look down. We’ll be back with Rachel before you know it.”

  Mason winced painfully as a fragment of glass sliced into his back as they climbed out of the window and onto the short roof of the second floor. Aware of the layout of the house, he knew their best bet was to go to the rear of the building and use the gentle slope that covered the rear porch to get to the ground.