A rebuttal formed on her lips. She wanted to tell him that she didn’t want to give her cousin any sons. That she didn’t want to be with him. That after meeting Carl, she didn’t want to ever be with anyone else.
Before he’d walked into her life, she’d accepted her fate, had determined to make the best of her children’s lives no matter who her husband was.
But now . . .
After experiencing respect and decency and kindness from a man, how could she go back? How could she be happy with anything less?
The darkness of Carl’s eyes had turned murky, and once again he spun away from her, but not before she saw the frustration that creased his forehead.
“I think I’ll go tend to the animals,” he said.
Before she could stop him, he disappeared outside. She knew he wasn’t strong enough yet to resume chores, but he’d obviously decided he needed to get away from her.
She brought Sophie’s tiny hand to her lips and kissed the thin fingernails. “I’ll need to be careful, liebchen,” she whispered, “or I’ll scare him away for good.”
And that was the last thing she wanted to do.
He was making plans to move to Chicago and teach after Dirk arrived, but could she do anything to make him reconsider? The thought had sprouted some time ago and was now developing roots.
She cradled Sophie against her chest.
Already sated, the baby’s eyes had closed. “Maybe if he falls in love with you, he’ll decide not to leave.”
A soft scuffing sound near the door sent hope fluttering through Annalisa. Was he back already?
But when she glanced up to the sight of a strange man standing in the doorway, she sat straighter and quickly pulled the sheet over herself and the baby.
“Frau Werner?” The man peered over his shoulder in the direction of the barn before squinting into the dim interior of the cabin.
Was this Dirk? Had her groom finally arrived? A wave of disappointment crashed against her, leaving her breathless, almost as if she were drowning.
She’d known he was due to arrive anytime. She’d just been hoping . . .
What had she hoped? Had she really been foolish enough to think Dirk wouldn’t come and that she could have Carl instead?
Annalisa couldn’t get her voice to work.
“Frau Werner?” the man said again, but his accent was decidedly English.
She took a closer look at the man’s face and the sawdust covering his hat and wide shoulders. Had she seen him before? Was there something about him vaguely familiar?
Again he glanced over his shoulder before narrowing his eyes upon her. “Ward told me to give you a message.” His words were half Deutsch and half English, but she was able to understand him.
And suddenly she knew who he was—the manager of Ward’s Forestville sawmill. She’d seen him on occasion when she’d gone to town but had never had the need to speak with him or seek him out.
She wasn’t sure if she should feel relief that he wasn’t Dirk or fear that he worked for Ward.
“Ward wants to thank you”—the man continued in terrible Deutsch and English combined—“for taking good care of his land.”
Before Annalisa could make sense of the words, the man tipped the brim of his hat and sauntered away.
Thank her for taking good care of his land? His land?
She stared at the emptiness of the doorway, at the bright morning sunshine and the clear blue sky beyond. Already she was warm from the heat of the day, but a cold shiver slithered up her backbone.
Apparently Ward still had his sights set on building his mill on her land.
The shiver crawled up to the back of her neck.
She wanted to drag herself out of bed, chase after the man, and tell him the land wasn’t Ward’s and never would be. But what good would that do? Her words wouldn’t mean anything to him.
She’d just have to show Ward she was serious, that he wouldn’t be able to intimidate her.
If only Carl hadn’t left. If only he’d been there to defend her in that way he sometimes had about him.
An angry squeal came from the barn.
Annalisa sat forward.
The sow. Her squeals echoed in the morning air, the unmistakable sign that something was threatening her piglets.
Had the bear returned?
The sow was especially vicious now that she was protecting her piglets. She didn’t mind when they admired the piglets from a distance. In fact, she’d flop to her side, twist up her belly, and invite her piglets with loud grunts to come and eat almost as if she were putting on a show for the bystanders.
But the mother pig would open her jaws wide and show her sharp teeth if anyone got too close. She could mangle a hand or arm in one bite if she felt her babies were threatened.
Why was the bear bothering the pig this time of year when the surrounding woodland was full of berries and the river abounding with fish? The attack was understandable in the spring when the wild creatures were still struggling to find enough to eat. But such an attack today made no sense.
No sense whatsoever.
With a moan Annalisa pushed herself up from the bed. Shuffling like a crippled oma, she made her way to the doorway.
Carl was nowhere in sight. And neither was Ward’s sawmill manager. Yet the barn door was open a crack.
She strained to hear anything beyond the sow’s angry squeals.
The bang of a gunshot reverberated through the air from the direction of the barn. Her muscles tensed, and for a long moment she didn’t move.
Then she saw a waft of smoke rising from the roof of the barn. She stared at it, trying to make sense of the thin gray stream that rose against the bright blue summer sky.
What was it? A fire?
The gray puffs coming from the roof began growing into large clouds.
“Carl?” Her heartbeat slammed against her chest.
Old Red’s distressed neigh was the only answer she received. She stepped outside, knowing it was much too soon for her to be out of bed, but she had to do something. Her barn might be on fire.
As if sensing her distress, Sophie squirmed and started wailing.
The smoke above the barn spiraled into black curls. Suddenly the bright finger of a flame shot up.
“Gott, help us!” The barn was burning.
She kicked over the basket of strawberries she’d picked what seemed like years ago, but was only the previous morning when Herr Pastor had brought them the devastating news about Mutter. She deposited Sophie inside the empty basket and tucked a blanket around her securely.
The baby was squalling hard now.
Annalisa’s aching body wrenched with the need to comfort the baby. But panic prodded her feet forward, and she stumbled toward the barn. “Carl!”
A flash of movement in the woods behind the barn caught her attention.
“Carl?”
But it was Ward’s man. He lunged deeper into the brush without turning to acknowledge her.
A spurt of new fear pushed her onward toward the barn.
What had he done to Carl?
Chapter
14
Annalisa wrenched open the barn door. Intense heat swept over her. Smoke swirled in thick clouds. Fire climbed up the back wall, devouring the dry wood like a famished dragon.
Carl’s hat lay on the floor in the dusty hay.
“Carl!”
In the stall with her piglets, the sow screeched. Old Red gave another frightened whinny. And Mathilda the cow let out a bellow.
Outside, Sophie’s cries escalated and begged Annalisa to retreat to safety.
She glanced at the roof, to where the fire had already weakened the structure. The speed with which the fire was ravaging the wood meant there was little time before the barn collapsed in on itself.
She needed to find Carl. Now.
She examined the depths of the barn and the stalls. Where was he? Fear nudged her forward, even though her aching, weak limbs protested. She cove
red her nose and mouth with the crook of her arm and plunged into the haymow.
The smoke stung her eyes. But with blurry vision she made her way to Old Red’s stall. She unhitched the post and swung the gate open wide.
A beam along the wall cracked and sent sparks flying.
The horse reared and his nostrils flared.
“Come on, old boy.” Annalisa smacked the horse on the flank, and he darted forward, head down and tail streaming.
Her stomach cramped, and she knew she shouldn’t be exerting herself, but desperation wouldn’t let her turn back. She unlatched the gates that held the cow and pigs captive and prayed they would have the common sense to get out before they were buried alive.
Another rafter cracked and swung down, bringing a shower of sparks and smaller pieces of burning timber. Flames erupted in the hay near her feet, and she jumped back. Smoke churned in a fresh gust around her.
She had to get out and save herself. Her daughters needed her. She couldn’t allow herself to get trapped in the burning inferno. But she couldn’t leave . . . not yet, not without finding Carl.
“Carl!” She screamed his name again.
Smoke filled her lungs, and she found herself falling to her knees, convulsing with choking coughs.
The roaring and crackling of the flames overhead shouted their warning. The heat of the growing fire slammed her, giving her no choice but to go back.
She was scrambling to retreat when she bumped into a hoe. And a boot . . . Her fingers trembled as she made contact with one of Carl’s legs and then the other.
She didn’t wait to see what had happened to him or even if he was still alive. With all the strength she could muster she grabbed him by his calves and dragged him toward the door.
The smoke burned her eyes and throat.
“Gott . . .” She didn’t know what to pray, only that she needed Gott’s help like she never had before. At some point in her life she’d stopped believing that He cared about what happened to a woman like her. But maybe now she was going to have to trust that He was listening to her. If she’d been wrong in her beliefs about the love between a man and a woman, was it possible she’d been wrong about His love too?
With a half sob, half prayer, she tugged Carl. The heat and the deathly fumes reached out to consume her. A dizzying wave crashed over her. Darkness threatened to close in. She blinked hard and fought to stay conscious.
Finally she stumbled backward out the door, pulling Carl into fresh, breathable air.
She collapsed against the dry mud of the barnyard.
The flames swallowed the thin boards of the barn in full fury, threatening to reach out and capture them. Taking a gulp of air, she crawled backward and hauled Carl with her.
The barn gave a large shuddering creak and then it cracked, as if an oversized ax had crashed through the structure.
Annalisa threw herself over Carl and cringed, praying she’d made it far enough away.
The roof caved in with an enormous roar. The impact of the falling boards sent heat and flames shooting into the air. A hot blanket seemed to fall across her back, but she didn’t move until the roar had faded. Then she lifted her head and peeked at the barn. It was completely flattened, the fire now shooting high into the air along with clouds of black smoke.
Sophie’s unending cries by the house reassured her the baby was still alive and safe.
But what about Carl? Was he alive? The question petrified her.
There had been a gunshot. Even though she hadn’t noticed any blood, Ward’s man still may have shot him.
Carl’s body lay stiff and unmoving beneath her weight. She shifted and pressed her ear against his chest. At the steady drumming of his heartbeat, she shuddered with relief.
His face was pale beneath the dark scruff that lined his jaw and cheeks. After the weeks of taking care of him during his fight with typhoid, she allowed her trembling fingers the freedom to graze his face again. His scratchy skin tickled her and reminded her how much she liked touching him.
She moved her hand into his hair, then gasped and pulled back. Her fingers were slick with bright red blood.
“Nein!” Frantically she searched his hair, looking for the wound and praying it wasn’t a bullet hole.
She didn’t have to hunt for long before she found a gash in his scalp. Had Ward’s man hit Carl?
She parted his hair and examined the slash. Fortunately it wasn’t deep, but the gaping flesh still made her stomach churn. She hadn’t seen a wound like that since she’d found Hans . . .
With a start, she spun around and stared at the woods where Ward’s man had disappeared. He’d been heading in the direction of the river. Was he the one who had been marking the trees and clearing out the island in Mill Creek? What if he was the man who’d snuck up on Hans and killed him?
A tremor started in her torso and moved to her limbs until she was shaking with chills.
The typhoid had kept Ward away for weeks, yet it was clear he wasn’t about to give up on taking her land from her. And that he would do anything to get it, including murdering any man who opposed him.
She turned to the burning mass of boards—all that remained of her barn.
Had Ward’s man started the fire too?
The acridness of the smoke permeated the air around her. Blinking back stinging tears, she ripped her apron and tied a strip of it around Carl’s wound, stemming the blood flow. Then she rubbed a hand across her forehead, wiping away sweat and trying to calm the pounding.
Perhaps she needed to convince Carl to leave the farm, tell him she didn’t want him there anymore. How could she live with herself if her selfishness—her inability to let him go—was the cause of his death?
With a groan she laid her head on his chest and threw her arms across him. She couldn’t bear the thought of life without him. How could she live without wondering what sort of contraption he would create next for her? And how could she make it through the day without seeing one of his smiles or the playfulness dancing in his eyes?
An ache wrapped around her lungs and squeezed until she could hardly breathe from the pain of imagining life without him.
“My love.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.
She froze. Had she fallen in love with Carl?
She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth to stifle a cry. Why had she allowed herself to fall in love with him? He wouldn’t, couldn’t stay. She needed to keep herself from getting too attached and save herself the heartache.
The warmth of his chest and the gentle rise and fall of his breathing soothed her frantic questions. She pressed her face into the grainy linen of his shirt and breathed deeply of his manly scent—one that hinted at earth, and beasts, and hard work.
He gave a soft moan.
She raised her head just as he blinked. His rich dark eyes stared up at her.
She did love him. With all her heart.
“What happened?” His voice was groggy.
She swallowed the swell of emotions. “I think one of Ward’s men attacked you and knocked you out.”
He tried to sit up but fell back to the ground with a moan.
“You have a nasty gash that may need stitching.”
He lifted his hand to his wound and her makeshift bandage and winced.
“But you’re alive,” she said. “And that’s all that matters.”
Another pop from the barn sent sparks flying. One landed in the dry grass near them.
“What—?” He swiveled his head, and at the sight of the blazing barn he sucked in a sharp breath. “Why’s the barn on fire?”
The tiny spark smoldered and then burst into flame, igniting the yellowed grass.
She jumped up, untied her tattered apron, and began to beat it against the fire.
Carl climbed to his knees, gripping his head as if attempting to keep from falling back to the ground.
With a few strokes she extinguished the flames. Just as she allowed her body to sag from relief and ex
haustion, another spark ignited near the garden. Then another near the clothesline. Fresh dread paralyzed her. Would the fire spread and destroy everything?
Carl struggled to his feet, and he glanced around the yard, his forehead crinkling as he took in the severity of the situation. “We need water.” He began unbuttoning his shirt, wobbling with each movement.
“Soak it in water.” He lifted it over his head and then tossed it to her. “And move Sophie somewhere safe.”
In her weakened state she stumbled to do his bidding. But even as she dipped her apron and his shirt into the bucket half filled with water next to the well, more sparks ignited in the dry grass surrounding the barn.
How would they be able to put them all out—especially since the flames were famished and eating up everything they touched with a speed that left her quaking?
Carl dragged himself from flame to flame, but he was unable to move fast enough to keep up with the spreading fire.
She was ready to drop in fatigue and give up the farm to the hungry fire when she heard shouts coming down the path.
At the sight of Uri and Vater running toward them, a sob broke from her lips. From the thinness of Uri’s face and the haggardness of Vater’s, she could tell they were still dealing with the effects of the typhoid fever and the loss of Mutter.
“We saw the smoke.” Vater’s breath came in heaving gasps. “I told Uri you were in trouble, that as surely as Moses saw the burning bush, your place was on fire.”
Uri had disappeared into the cabin and came out with the sheets from her bed. He was already in the process of tearing them into halves.
As they worked together to keep the fire from spreading, beating the wet sheets against the flames, Annalisa couldn’t stop a rampage of questions from pounding through her.
What would Ward try next?
How would she ever afford to build a new barn?
With the dryness of the summer and the slow growth of her crops, how would she have enough to pay off her loan at the end of October, much less have enough to build another barn?
Jody Hedlund Page 20