by Merry Farmer
He was scared.
A loud bump sounded in the hall, and in an instant Freddy sat bolt-upright.
“What?” Luke sat up fast beside him. He must not have been sleeping either.
“Did you hear something?” Freddy sounded younger than he was, but he hardly noticed.
“A bump. In the hall.”
Luke didn’t have time to say anything more. A scream sounded in the hall—Muriel’s scream.
“Muriel!” Luke jumped out of bed.
Freddy scrambled to get up too. His feet were barely on the ground when the door to the boys’ room flew open. Three men with lanterns rushed in, along with Mrs. Fielding. She held a lantern too, and in a flash, the room was so bright Freddy blinked.
“Take care of the older one first,” Mrs. Fielding said. “He’ll be a problem if he’s not restrained.”
“What are you doing?” Luke shouted.
He balled his hands into fists, but didn’t have time to do anything more. One of the men set his lantern on a table and lunged at Luke. Freddy screamed, but it did no good. The man punched Luke hard. Luke dropped like a sack and lay motionless on the floor.
Freddy screamed again and tried to make a break for the hall. He could hear Muriel screaming still, although the sound was coming from below, from downstairs.
“No! No! Muriel! My sister!” He thumped into one of the men and tried to scramble around him. It wasn’t until his struggles got him nowhere that he realized the man had grabbed him around the waist. “No!”
He tried to kick and bite and fight, but the ground tipped and the world spun around him. Before could figure out what happened, the air whooshed out of his lungs as his stomach hit something. It hit a broad, hard shoulder. One of the men had hefted him over his shoulder.
“Get them downstairs and gag them,” Mrs. Fielding said. “Make sure that one is tied up tight.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the men muttered.
“No! No! Luke! Muriel!” The air squeezed out of Freddy’s lungs again as the man carrying him jostled down the stairs. Try as he did to squirm out of the man’s grip, it was useless. His captor was too big and too strong.
When they reached the front hall at the bottom of the steps, Freddy opened his mouth to scream again, but his cry died on his lips. One of the other men was dragging Luke down the stairs. He didn’t move. Was he dead?
Freddy went limp and began to cry. What would he do if Luke were dead? The man carrying Luke let him flop on the hall floor, then stepped into the other room, coming back with ropes and long cloths. Freddy was too scared to do anything but watch as the man tied Luke up, head to toe, and fastened a gag around his mouth. If that wasn’t bad enough, someone had tied Muriel’s hands and feet and gagged her as well. Worse still, the man who had carried him downstairs rushed to do the same to him.
As soon as the gag was in his mouth, Freddy panicked and started to scream and thrash again. But it was too late. He was tied up and screaming only made his mouth go dry.
“Get them to the dock as quickly as possible,” Mrs. Fielding said. “Keep it quiet, too.”
“They’ll be too frightened to make a noise,” one of the men said. His voice alone was scary enough for Freddy to swallow his need to cry for help. He was mean-looking and ugly too, and he had two pistols in his belt.
“Tell Captain Reid to set sail as soon as possible,” Mrs. Fielding went on.
“But, ma’am, the tide won’t be right until tomorrow afternoon,” one of the men said. “And Reid is expecting other deliveries.”
Mrs. Fielding hissed out an annoyed breath. “More children means more money,” she said, as if figuring to herself. “But these ones have a sister and those two old coots who might come back looking for them.” She shook her head as though she’d come to a decision. “Reid will have to leave at first light, with or without any other children.”
“Ortega won’t like that,” the man who had hit Luke said. “He insists children fetch more money when buyers have more to choose from. Why, that little girl is pretty enough to fetch top dollar if there’s uglier ones to compare her too.”
Freddy didn’t know why, but he knew that meant something very, very bad. He tried to scoot closer to Muriel, to throw his arms around her and protect her as she wept, but he could barely budge.
“Come on. There’s no time to waste.”
The men collected Freddy and Muriel, hoisting them up over their shoulders again and taking them outside. The big, ugly one grabbed Luke and hauled him outside too. They were all tossed in the back of a wagon.
People were watching them from the windows of a few of the houses. Freddy wanted to cry out for help. Surely someone would help them. But there was something weird about the way the people in the other houses stood there and said nothing.
“Go back to sleep,” Mrs. Fielding shouted at them. “You’ll get your cut as soon as we get paid, and don’t think you won’t enjoy it.”
Curtains were drawn over a few of the windows where people were watching. The lights went out inside. The wagon shook as the men climbed inside and up onto the seat, then it lurched into motion. Freddy bumped his head against the side, but that wasn’t what brought tears to his eyes. How would Pete and Josephine and Libby know where they were? How would they know what happened? And how could they come and rescue them?
Chapter Nine
Morning birdsong had never given Pete a second thought, but as the first rays of dawn peeked in through the curtains the next morning, he found himself thinking it was awfully nice. Morning light was nice too. So were soft, rumpled sheets. But what was nicest of all was waking up next to a beautiful, sleeping woman who he happened to love with his whole heart. It didn’t hurt that she was naked either, and her curves rested against him in all the right places. They were so nice, in fact, that even though he was past his prime years, his body seemed to forget that.
And wouldn’t you know it, waking up with the urges of a man half his age did wonders for his soul.
He shifted to his side, drawing Josephine against him, and kissed her soft, slightly parted lips until she hummed and stretched and awoke. She blinked her gorgeous, brown eyes and smiled, and Pete’s heart soared right along with the birdsong.
“Morning.” He stole one more kiss.
“Morning yourself.” She stretched and settled against him with a fond sound of contentment. “Beautiful morning,” she added.
“It certainly is.” He brushed back her tangled hair. Neither of them had thought to take it out of its style from the night before. Pete was sure if he looked he’d find hairpins all through his bed. “So what do we do next?” he asked, ready to move on the way they should have moved on from the start.
“Next we live happily ever after.” Josephine grinned. “Like two spring chickens.”
“Before that?” He kissed her hoping to coax a sweet answer from her lips.
“Before that we get married, of course.” She pinched his arm to tease him.
“And before that?” He wasn’t sure where he was going with his game, but he wanted to play it all day.
Josephine answered seriously. “Before that we march straight down to Mrs. Fielding’s house and get our sweet children back.”
She was absolutely right. Pet kissed her one more, then inched away and rolled to get out of bed. Josephine followed suit. As he stood, muscles that he had forgotten he had ached and his back cracked in protest. He may have discovered a whole new strain of youth in his veins the night before, but parts of him reminded the rest that age was age, even if it could be rolled back.
Since their activities of the night before had been unplanned, Josephine had nothing to change into but her clothes from the day before. Pete was grateful that his rush of passion hadn’t been so strong that he’d ripped them in the process of removing them. She didn’t seem to mind wearing yesterday’s clothes, so rather than fuss around with his own clothes, he dressed in whatever was handiest. He would have given himself a thorough bath with th
e cloth, pitcher, and basin on the table by the window, but Josephine seemed to be in a hurry. They washed up enough to be presentable, then headed out into the hall.
It was still early, and the hotel had a sleepy feel to it, but as they stepped into the hall, the door to the room beside theirs open. An older man stepped out of the room. He took one look at Pete and Josephine, and his bushy brows flew up. A second later, the dropped to a scowl and he shook his head.
“You young people these days,” he muttered, marching down the hall and past them. “Banging against the wall and making all that noise. Don’t they teach discretion and forbearance to you whippersnappers these days?”
He continued to mutter as he reached the stairs and headed down. Hot embarrassed color flooded Josephine’s face, and she turned to Pete. He figured they had been a little on the noisy side last night, but as long as they’d waited to vent their passions it’d seemed only right.
“Well if that doesn’t put a man to shame, nothing will.” Pete took her arm and escorted her down the hall.
“Perhaps we were indiscreet,” Josephine whispered.
“No.” Pete shook his head. “Being called a ‘whippersnapper.’ And here all this time we were under the impression we were used up and done.”
Josephine burst into laughter. “Honey, there was nothing used up and done about you last night.”
He winked at her with all the boyish pride of a man after his first conquest. That only made Josephine laugh harder, which only made him feel more like a conquering hero.
They headed out of the hotel and down the street toward the river in the highest of spirits. Part of Pete wanted to kick himself for being such a stubborn ox about marrying the woman he loved and adopting the Chance children. Everyone had seen that as the natural solution to the tangle but him and Josephine. Heck, maybe they’d just been too scared and set in their ways to admit the truth. He figured they would have come around eventually. And after the level of passion that Josephine had shown the night before, there was no way he would let things turn out any way other than perfect.
They were both still smiling as they reached the cove with its six perfect white houses, walked up to Mrs. Fielding’s door, and knocked. As they waited for an answer, Pete brushed his hand across Josephine’s cheek, grinning over the fact that she would be his forever now. He was too happy even to worry about how stupid he’d been in getting to where he should be. The smile stayed on his face up until Mrs. Fielding opened the door.
“Yes, can I help you?” Mrs. Fielding blinked at them. Pete knew right away something was wrong.
“Good morning, Mrs. Fielding.” Josephine rushed to speak for both of them. “We’ve come back for the children. We’ve realized it was a terrible mistake to leave them here. We’re terribly sorry, but we’ve decided to adopt the Chance family ourselves.”
Mrs. Fielding stared at them.
And stared.
As if she had no idea who they were.
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” she said.
Josephine’s beaming smile faltered. “The Chance children? Luke, Freddy, and Muriel? Are they up yet?”
“The who children?” Mrs. Fielding’s face was as blank as ever.
A dark sense of danger sprouted up in Pete’s gut. “Just bring them down and we’ll forget this little joke.”
Mrs. Fielding frowned at him, more in confusion than anger. “Joke?” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, it’s very early in the morning for pranks. If you’ll excuse me.” She stepped back and tried to shut the door.
Pete planted his foot in the way before she could do it and pushed the door wide open. Mrs. Fielding yelped and jumped back, a look of terror in her eyes.
“Enough of this. Bring the Chance children out here or I’ll come in and get them for myself,” Pete said.
“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mrs. Fielding clamped a hand to her chest, backpedaling down the hall. “I don’t have any children here.”
“What?” Josephine rushed into the hall. “Freddy! Muriel! Luke!” she called up the stairs.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mrs. Fielding went on. She seemed twice as anxious and desperate as she had been, but the more Pete stared at her, the clearer it became that the emotion didn’t reach her eyes. Just like her smile hadn’t reached her eyes.
“This isn’t funny.” Josephine’s panic was genuine. “We were here yesterday. We brought three children, Luke, Freddy, and Muriel, here with the understanding this was a home for children.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I’ve never seen you before in my life.” Mrs. Fielding turned to the back of her house. “Arthur! Arthur!”
“Whatever racket you’ve got going on, it stops now,” Pete bellowed. “Those children are ours, and we want them back.”
“Back?” Mrs. Fielding’s voice was thready with panic. “I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have any children. Arthur!”
Pete’s mind was reeling. He wanted to rip the house apart to find the kids. He was against violence toward women in every form, but Mrs. Fielding was trying his patience just then.
“Where are my children?” Josephine demanded. She grabbed Mrs. Fielding by the shoulders and shook her.
“I don’t know anything about your children. Get your hands off of me.” Mrs. Fielding struggled to get out of Josephine’s grip.
“We brought them here yesterday,” Josephine insisted, near hysterics. “It was a mistake. It was a terrible mistake. We want them back. Where are they?”
“Help!” Mrs. Fielding managed to wriggle out of Josephine’s grip and dart toward the front door. “Help! Help!”
Josephine tore after the woman. “Yes, help! This woman has done something with my children.”
Pete glanced at the door at the two women but didn’t follow them. Instead, he tore up the stairs. It was early yet, and the Chance kids could still be in bed. But when he got to the top of the stairs and darted into the room on the left, it was empty. Completely empty. Not a speck of furniture or so much as a carpet. It had been a dormitory the day before. He dashed across the hall to the room that had been for the girls, but all that the room contained was a spinning wheel and a table of cloth bolts.
“No.” He shook his head, rejecting what his eyes were telling him.
There was no time to investigate. Shouting in the street below pulled him away. He thundered down the stairs and out into the yard. Josephine was near hysterics now, demanding the children back, being held back by an older man, while Mrs. Fielding cowered in the arms of another woman.
“Where are they?” Pete demanded. “What happened to the house? Where are all the cots and the children’s things?”
“What are you talking about?” Mrs. Fielding wailed.
“What are you talking about?” the woman who shielded her demanded. “What kind of person shows up at a widow’s house not an hour after sunrise and accosts her about phantom children?”
Prickles of dread raced down Pete’s back. The woman, possibly a neighbor, was in on it. He turned to the only thing he could prove and control and marched toward Josephine and the man who was restraining her. “You get your hands off of her.”
The older man complied, stepping back and holding his hands up. He wore an expression that was deeply confused…or at least one that appeared to be confused. The tight lines around his mouth and the way he held his shoulders taut hinted that he was lying.
Josephine threw herself at Pete, clinging to him in desperation. “Where are the children? What have you done with them?”
“I told you, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mrs. Fielding wept in her neighbor’s arms. “I have no idea who you are. We’ve never met. Now go away.”
“Yes,” the older man said, somewhat stilted. “Go away or we’ll call the police.”
“Call the police,” Josephine demanded. “By all means. Let them get to the bottom of this.”
The older man and the neighbor woman exchanged nervous glances. It was enough to convince Pete some sort of conspiracy was in the works, but also that they weren’t going to get anywhere standing where they were, trying to force something out of consummate actors.
“Come on, Josephine,” he growled, taking her arm and nudging her to move.
“But we can’t. Where are the children?” Josephine panicked.
“They’re not here,” Pete said. “That’s all we know. This lot has done something with them, but they’re not going to fess up to what.”
Mrs. Fielding stopped her weeping long enough to shoot Pete a look that was half triumphant, half mocking. Before Pete was even sure he saw it, she returned to her wailing, burying her face against her neighbor’s shoulder.
The sight pushed him so close to the edge of fury that all he could do was loop Josephine’s arm through his and march her away from the too-perfect houses and out of the cove.
“We can’t just leave.” Josephine tried to fight him, twisting to look over her shoulder as Mrs. Fielding and her two neighbors retreated into her house.
“We were set up,” Pete grumbled, taking her further from the scene. “This whole thing was planned from the start. I knew the house was too quiet.”
“But she came so highly recommended. People said Mrs. Fielding was the answer to our problems.” Tears flowed freely down Josephine’s face now.
“More like we were the answer to her problems,” Pete told her. He wasn’t trying to be blunt or unkind, but there wasn’t time to make excuses for their own hasty, stupid behavior. There would be time to kick themselves over letting outsiders try to tell them how to live their lives later.
“We have to go to the police,” Josephine said. “We have to tell them what’s going on. Surely they have their suspicions. This can’t—oh heavens.” She stopped dead and clapped a hand to her heart. “Oh, Pete. This can’t be the first time this has happened. The house doesn’t look like it’s new, and people in town knew who Mrs. Fielding is. They must have stolen children before.”