Without an offer to help, James wandered back over by Shannon.
Taking two of his ropes, Joseph tied them together at the ends and placed the knot at the neckline. From there he slid part of the rope through each sleeve, letting the endings hang out the cuffs. He again spread the woolen cloak over the dress contraption. “James, come here. You need to help me move him over on this.”
James came and picked up Alain-Robert’s feet while Joseph lifted from under his shoulders. “What about Shannon? How are we going to get her help? I’ve tried the pick her up, but I think she’s got some broken ribs. I’d better not carry her.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. While I get Alain-Robert secured on this, you get the widow’s things put back in her bags. Then, we’ll both help her to a standing—”
“She can’t walk. She’s either broken her leg or ankle or something.”
Joseph didn’t feel patient but knew his brother wasn’t thinking clearly. “I know about her leg. You already told me. We can’t let them stay out here all night, and we can’t separate and go for help. So, we’ll help her to stand on her good leg. She’ll use us as crutches. If you are on one side and I on the other, we should be able to head for home.”
“But it’s over a mile. She’ll never make it.”
“Do you have a better idea? I know we’ll have to go slow. I also know we have to head for home since wherever we stop is going to be where they will stay to heal. Where do you want her getting care?” He had to make James understand, and he had no clue what else he could do. His brother’s attention entirely focused on the widow, but Alain-Robert appeared in greater need of help.
Joseph began to loop the sleeves with ropes inside under Alain-Robert’s arms, over the injured man’s shoulders, and tying them together beneath his head at his neck. The last rope he used to loosely bind the injured man’s hands at the wrist so they wouldn’t drag on the journey.
Instead of arguing, James picked up the nearest bag and started stuffing Shannon’s things inside. Once the widow’s strewn belongings were packed, he walked over and leaned down, quietly talking to Shannon.
Joseph checked to make sure Alain-Robert lay secure. The man had not regained consciousness in spite of the jostling to carry him to the drag, and that concerned Joseph all the more. Plus, his head wound continued to bleed, seeping through the linen baby-blanket bandage. It would be a long walk home and sunset was closing in. Could they make it home with everyone still alive? Would they even be able to make it at all?
* * *
Robert kept watch from the upstairs window. The location of the apple orchard made this west side of the house the most vulnerable. All the other sides were far clearer, giving a better opportunity to see an enemy’s approach. But the area outside his window lent an attacker more cover and a defender less time for defense.
The sun sinking low behind the trees, gave off an amber glow both beautiful and somewhat blinding. Robert would need to pay very close attention to every tiny movement.
Earlier, his father passed out guns to the other men, positioning them at various posts throughout the house. His mother also kept watch from another window. All awaited the signal to arms, and the responsibility weighed on him.
What a time to be wishing for less attention. Robert strained his eyes harder, looking for any movement out of the ordinary.
But what if the movement turned out to be James and Joseph returning instead of a hidden enemy? Lord, keep my eyes sharp and my brothers safe.
He rubbed his tired eyes and stared again at the edge of the trees. Was that a movement he saw? He blinked and willed his eyes to see in the darkening twilight.
Wisps of smoke wandered into view. “Fire. The barn.” Robert sounded the alarm, staring out the window before charging from the room and down the stairs. “Fire.” He sprinted for the back door. Grabbed by the arm, he spun to face his father.
“Wait here, Robert. Two of us will go and two stay. This is most likely a diversion. Tell your mother. Help her get the women and children to the cellar.” And he was out the door.
Robert spun on his heel. Going back to the stairs, he found Sarah and his mother on the landing. Mimi, holding the babies, stood at the top of the stairs. “Take them to the cellar. I’ll get the girls.” He tore past without looking to see if they obeyed.
“Mistress O’Toole is in the girls’ room.” Good that his mother reminded him.
Without acknowledging, Robert threw open the door to his sisters’ room. “Get downstairs to the cellar.” He didn’t wait but ran to the nursery. “Lucy, Sarah Beth, Mary Frances, go to the cellar now.” Robert reached in to grab Mary Frances’s arm, making her move faster.
Shooing like a mother hen, he chased them down the stairs. Sarah, holding Wee Joseph, guided all the others past her, before passing the baby off to Lucy.
Mother had an arm around Grand-mère Josephine, helping her hurry. Two other servant girls followed.
Once Robert had them to the door, he grabbed his mother’s elbow. “Get them all down the stairs. Bolt the door after and keep everyone silent.” She nodded and closed the door. He listened to be sure she obeyed his instructions, then ran to check the rest of the house.
He rounded the corner of the dining room just as Michael and his son entered, from another door. “I sent the women and children to the cellar.”
“Good. Then you take the front of the house. We’ll take the back. Pray your father and Albert can put out the fire before it spreads any further.”
Robert was already praying.
Chapter Seventeen
Stars broke through the night sky, millions of tiny holes revealing light in a black velvet curtain. A fingernail of a moon hung in the corner offering little light. A dark, unnerving night, and they were still far from home.
Joseph refused to dwell on that fact. Light, dark, day, night, none of that mattered. They had to reach home.
Shannon gasped, her toe catching on a stone in the road. Joseph held on to her, and to the drag he pulled behind. He slowed his pace.
There had been no sound from the drag, and Joseph worried. Should they have stayed and waited for help? But who knows when that would have arrived?
No, they did the right thing.
He hoped.
Shannon had difficulty getting enough breath. Her breathing remained shallow, so there’d been little conversation. It was a wonder she hadn’t fainted. Maybe she had, and they were unaware.
Joseph started to pray but changed his mind. If God wouldn’t help Kathleen, why would He help Alain-Robert or Shannon? Or, perhaps it was only the prayers of Joseph Louis Crockett the Almighty refused to answer.
Joseph Louis Crockett, Sr., he reminded himself. There were now two with that name.
Distant thundering from the road behind interrupted his revelry.
“We need to move over.” It was the first thing James had uttered since they started walking.
“Shhh. This way.” Joseph led them to the side of the road and helped Shannon lean against a hawthorn tree for support. He then made sure Alain-Robert’s drag had no part on the roadway.
“Whoever they are, they’re on horseback. Do we stay hidden or see if they can help?”
Why did James want him to make all the decisions? “I don’t know. What do you think?”
James remained quiet for a second. “I say let them pass. We don’t want to risk anymore.”
Finally, his brother had an opinion. So why did it unsettle Joseph?
“I’m not sure.”
“What do you mean you’re not sure? A minute ago, you didn’t know what to do and needed my help. Now that I tell you, you want to do just the opposite?”
Joseph could barely make out James’s outline in this light, but he knew from the sound of the whisper, his brother neared a breaking point.
“They must be carrying torches. I can see light coming toward us.”
James grabbed his arm. “Then stay hidden. The Combers could carry
torches to set the thatch on fire when they attack.”
“Wait to see if their faces are covered. If they’re not, we should know who they are, and if it is safe to come out.”
James didn’t answer but let go of his arm. They stepped behind the hawthorn tree with Shannon. He could hear her breathing becoming more labored.
The horsemen drew closer. Would he step out? Would he make a mistake? If Joseph made a mistake either way, it could end up deadly.
The horsemen rounded the bend. Their faces were uncovered, but they rode so fast, if they didn’t see him, he would be trampled.
Joseph made up his mind. He felt James’s hand reach for him, but he ran out anyway.
“Whoa. Help us. Please. Whoa.”
The horses skidded to a stop, nearly colliding into each other. The leader dismounted. Pulling a dirk from his side, he strode to Joseph, grabbed his shirt and pointed the tip at Joseph’s throat.
“Where is my daughter?”
* * *
“La la loo, little one. La la loo.” Sarah patted the baby’s bottom while he perched against her shoulder. She kissed his cheek and continued her circular walk in the cellar, whispering in his ear, trying to keep him still. He squirmed more by the second, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before he let out with a cry, giving away their hiding place.
Samuel slept on Mistress de Grillet’s lap. She’d found an old crate and turned it into a seat so she could hold the toddler.
If only Wee Joseph would sleep. She still wouldn’t be able to relax, but it would be one less worry.
No sound came from overhead. Sarah didn’t know if that was good or bad. In the meantime, though, the air seemed cool enough, it just didn’t move. And the musty smell didn’t help.
“Mary O’Toole, would you help me here?” Though Tanté Louise whispered, urgency came through her voice.
“Aye.”
Sarah followed Mary to where Louise knelt next to Josephine LeSuere. Louise held one small candle. Dim though the light, Sarah saw too clearly.
Josephine, seated on another crate, leaned heavy against Louise, her eyes closed. She gripped her left arm firm against her chest. Her breath came in ragged gasps.
Sarah’s heart leapt to her throat.
“Tanté, what do we do?”
* * *
“I don’t know, sir.” Joseph fleetingly thought he’d said that phrase quite often of late. There was much he didn’t know, like if Alain-Robert still lived or if any of them would survive the night. But the look in Thomas Stewart’s eyes, as much as the knife held at his throat, kept him focused on the present. Alain-Robert and Shannon needed immediate help. “I have two injured people here. We need to get them to Edenmore. Can you give assistance?”
“Calhoun, MacDonald, see to it.” Two men dismounted. One took a torch and they strode to where James stood between Shannon and Alain-Robert.”
“Sir, there are three people, two injured. One is a woman.”
Stewart lifted Joseph’s chin slightly with the tip of his blade, his eyes narrowing.
Joseph stood his ground, staring back. Didn’t the man have an ounce of compassion? Alain-Robert and Shannon would die if they didn’t soon receive aid.
The guard returned. “Sir, the woman is not your daughter. She says she is Widow Shannon O’Connor. One male is unconscious. They say he is Alain-Robert de Grillet.”
“What happened, Joseph?” Stewart slowly returned the knife to its sheath.
Though momentarily relieved, Joseph’s gaze never faltered. He swiped a knuckle under his jaw, past the area now free of the knifepoint. “We learned the Widow and Alain-Robert left the house. We followed and found them hurt and Kevin O’Rourke dead. We’ve been trying to return to Edenmore ever since.” Joseph swallowed his pride. “Sir, they need immediate help. Will you assist?”
“Where is Sarah? Did you see her at Edenmore?”
“No, sir, I have not seen her. I believed her safe at Balleylawn.” A cold chill ran up Joseph’s spine. She wasn’t at Balleylawn. So focused had he been on getting Alain-Robert and Shannon help, he’d missed an important part.
Was Sarah in danger?
* * *
“Get the animals out.” Antoine ran to the stable. The horses snorted and pawed the earthen floor. He opened their stalls, shooing the horses to the pasture. Returning to see if Albert needed help, he rushed to the barn. His friend pulled a terrified heifer to safety.
“The hay is ablaze, and the thatch has caught. Get back.” Albert pulled him away from the growing inferno. “Get back. The animals are out.”
Antoine stopped in his tracks. Staring, he helplessly watched as the flames inside grew. Soon they’d bust through the thatch, sending a volcano of sparks hundreds of feet in the air. God, let the other roofs be damp enough not to catch.
Grabbing a bucket, he ran for the well.
* * *
“Sir, leave men here with James to help. I’ll ride with you.” Joseph felt each second ticking away as he waited for Stewart to agree.
“Fitzhugh.” A rider came closer. “Leave your mount and remain here with Calhoun and MacDonald. Help Crockett to stabilize and—”
“Fire! Sir. Over there.” Fitzhugh pointed in the direction of Edenmore.
Joseph pulled the man from his horse taking the mount from him. Thomas Stewart started at a gallop. Joseph immediately joined him, followed by three more of Ballylawn’s guards.
His son was at Edenmore. That he knew. Could Sarah be there too? He spurred his mount to run faster. Everyone he loved, everything he held dear, his whole heart lay at Edenmore Manor. His one and only thought left no room for compromise. He had to get there in time.
He had to.
* * *
Antoine swiftly filled another bucket. Handing it to Albert, he prayed and dipped again.
“Look out.”
Antoine spun to the sound. Albert’s bucket flew past. It hit a figure, a man, in the face. A yell. The figure dropped.
Blood pounding in his ears, Antoine pulled his pistol from his belt. Michael O’Toole advanced from the house, gun poised.
The man slowly rose.
Antoine held steady.
Tossing the bucket aside, the figure swore and ran at Antoine.
One shot.
An owl cried overhead.
The figure ran no more.
Antoine lowered his weapon, switched hands, and reached for his dirk. Caution guarded each step, closer and closer.
Albert and Michael met him at the body. Antoine pushed with his toe, turning it over. The firelight revealed. “Seamus Flaherty.”
Michael lowered his pistol. “Make a search around the outside?”
Antoine shook his head. “No. Let them come to us.” No need of Robert or young O’Toole firing on their fathers.
A shot rang out.
“The front.”
Antoine led the men though the backdoor, into the house.
“Robert?”
“Father, in the dining room. Look there, out by the old elm.” His pistol remained trained on the spot. “Don’t think I hit anything.”
* * *
Squeak.
Military preparation took over. A quick count of persons told Antoine all were accounted for. No one remained at the back of the house. Pulling his dirk from its sheath, he caught Albert’s glance and nodded to the stairs. He motioned for Michael to go down the hall. Robert and Liam were to stay at the front.
Antoine silently mounted the steps, staying to the wall side. At the landing he pointed to Albert to take the right hall. He started down the left . Senses heightened, he stepped into the first bedroom, his daughters’. Glow from the barn fire illumined the room with an eerie red light, and smoke seeped in through an open window. The thatch on this roof most likely wouldn’t catch fire. But a spark flying in could cause the house to burn. Best to close the window.
He stopped.
Draperies could well hide someone. Using his dirk, he moved the fabric. N
o one. He pulled the sash closed. On to the next room. What would he find there?
* * *
What was that? Sarah froze in her tracks. So did the other women. All eyes gazed at each other.
There it was again. Someone trying to open the cellar door.
Sarah realized she held her breath. Wee Joseph squirmed. She held him too tightly. She loosened her hold and put her lips to his tiny ear.
“Hush, sweet darlin’ boy. Shh. There, there’s a good boy.” Oh Father, put a guard over his sweet mouth. And bring us an angel of mercy for Miss Josephine too.
There’d been no change for the poor woman. In the candlelight she appeared as pale as the moon. Sarah hoped the light only played tricks with her eyes.
The baby shoved a fist in his mouth and began sucking loudly.
A tear dripped down Sarah’s cheek. “Oh, darlin’ I’m so sorry. Your Shannon isn’t here, and I can’t feed you.” She kissed his head. Lord, please send help soon.
* * *
A shot.
Antoine ran out the bedroom door.
A shout.
Albert nearly ran into him at the landing.
“It came from the dining room.” Antoine held up a hand, put a finger to his lips, and started slowly down the staircase. One boot over another, one step at a time.
Once at the newel post, Antoine motioned Albert closer. He pointed to himself and to the front door leading to the dining room. Then he pointed to Albert and to the pantry door.
Albert nodded and moved off. He would know to use the pantry door to the dining room.
Antoine reached the front dining room entrance. With a measured breath, he wiped his hand on his pant leg before little by little easing open the door.
Deep shadows filled the room. One shadow near the window moved. Something flashed.
The Crockett Chronicles- The Complete Collection Page 42