by Mary Alford
When quiet settled around them Mason tried the sheriff again without success. How much longer would they be forced to stand alone?
“He’s not answering?”
Mason shook his head and placed his arm around her shoulders, holding her close.
Distant fighting reverberated through the countryside. The sheriff and his people were doing everything possible to break through enemy lines.
“I can imagine the sheriff’s deputies aren’t used to being up against so many.”
Mason glanced at the phone still in his hand. For half a second, he thought about reaching out to his supervisor, Owen Harper. Some instinct that didn’t make sense warned him not to make that call.
“It’s going to work out, Willa. You were right. God won’t let this happen. He won’t.” But his newfound faith faltered. He’d seen too many bad things through the years. Witnessed Chandler’s senseless death. Now a little six-year-old girl was in the fight of her life.
The phone in his hand rang, and Mason quickly answered it, thinking it was the sheriff.
“Is it done?” The voice on the other end was not Sheriff Collins, but he did sound familiar.
Mason tried to think beyond the chaos around him and figure out how he knew this man. “Not yet.” He caught Willa’s surprise and held a finger to his lips.
“You’d better hurry. They’re almost there. Your people can’t hold them off forever.” The man paused. “This is it. I gave you the information you wanted to find the girl. I’m done. You promised once you had her location, you’d cancel my debt. I took care of your brother’s problem. Now you handle mine. We’re square.”
A moment of silence followed, and then the man appeared to grow suspicious. “Dante? You there? Hello?”
Mason struggled to come up with the right answer. “I’ll do what I—”
The phone went dead midsentence. The man had realized he wasn’t speaking to the person he thought. The phone at one time had belonged to Dante Bartelli, and the man who called had to be the mole. If they could find the person, it might be possible to tie Dante Bartelli to his brother’s crimes.
“Who was that?”
He looked straight at her. “I think I just spoke to the mole.”
Willa searched his face. “Are you serious? Did you recognize the voice?”
Did he? Or was he simply grasping for something. “I’m not sure. It sounded familiar, but...” He couldn’t be certain. “Why don’t you go check on Samantha and Erik and your mother? I’m sure they’re all pretty shaken after what happened. I’ll keep watch here.”
She obviously didn’t want to leave him, but he felt uneasy about Erik’s condition.
“Go. I’ll be fine.”
Willa finally let him go and rose. “I’ll be right back.” Her fingers lingered on his. “Don’t you die.”
He didn’t want to let her go. So many reasons for him to want to live stood before him—in her. “Stay low and out of sight of the window.”
She moved to the kitchen, and he heard the trapdoor open. Her soft footsteps faded down the stairs. It felt as if his whole world—his future—went with her.
Mason tried the sheriff again with the same outcome. With fear closing in, threatening to swallow him up, he hit his knees and prayed with all his heart.
“Help us, Father. I don’t know how much longer we can hold out against so many and I’m terrified someone will die. Please place Your protection around us and don’t let these bad men take another innocent life.”
The “Amen” slipped unsteadily from his lips while a calm he hadn’t felt in a long time embraced him. And he realized this was where he was supposed to be. God had placed him here to protect Samantha, and he would do whatever was needed to save her life.
Drawing in air, he rose and kept down as he advanced to the broken window. Nothing appeared in his line of sight. A chill niggled along his backbone.
The trapdoor closed quietly, and Willa returned to the living room. He tried to keep his uneasiness to himself.
“Can you see anything?”
He turned toward her soft voice. “No, nothing so far. How’s Erik?”
Her troubled expression confirmed what he already knew, yet she tried to sound positive. “He’s sleeping, which is a gut thing. He needs rest.”
“How’re Samantha and your mother holding up?”
“Mamm is being herself. Samantha is trying extremely hard to be brave.” She smiled and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. So beautiful. For so long, he’d pushed aside the life he’d had here in West Kootenai. But lately he found himself remembering the moments spent with his brothers and family, with Willa and hers. And every time he recalled that time, her face made him smile. She’d been the mother hen of the group. The voice of reason. The faithful one.
“She reminds me of you. Kind through and through, but possessing a courage that is stronger than a lot of seasoned law-enforcement agents.”
Willa laughed at his description. “Oh, well, there are times when I don’t feel so strong.” Their eyes connected. “Especially watching my mamm go through the things she’s endured. Knowing that...” She didn’t finish, but he knew what she was thinking.
“I hate this so much,” he said. Every time he thought about the monster that was slowly claiming Beth’s life, he wanted to rage at someone.
“We’ll get through.” She misunderstood him.
He claimed her hand. “I don’t mean what’s happening now—although I hate it. What I meant is what’s happening to Beth isn’t fair.”
She ducked her head. “No, it isn’t. I wish Gott would give it to me if it meant she would be free of the disease.” He had no doubt she meant every single one of those words.
“And I wish I could make it easier for the both of you.”
“I know.” She smiled. “Mamm loves you so much. She talks about you and your family a lot. Martha visits often, as do your bruders. But she talks about you the most because you were always her favorite. Mamm never gave up on your returning one day.”
It humbled him to think about Beth and so many others praying for him through the years. There were a lot of people who loved him.
He thought about the dream he, Fletcher and Chandler had shared. As kinner, they’d been excited to think about owning their own business one day. Something apart from the family one.
Though all his brothers hunted, for him and Fletcher it was more than a way to provide food for the family. The excitement of the hunt. Being outdoors. Using all his skills to complete a successful hunt. For him, the dream hadn’t died, even though he’d lost his friend Chandler. He wondered about Fletcher.
Multiple sets of footsteps circling the house broke the quiet around them.
“They’re going to try getting inside.” As much as he didn’t want to put Willa in more danger than he had already, he couldn’t fight this battle alone. “Stay behind the sofa. They’re coming.”
The fear on her face added to his guilt. Mason shoved the bookcase onto the floor and in front of the sofa for added protection. They were buffered on one side by the interior wall to Willa’s room. If he peeked around the wall, the back door would be visible. Would it be enough protection to allow them to pick off Bartelli’s invading soldiers? His heart pumped adrenaline through his body as he waited for the inevitable.
The front door shook. Mason flipped around and shot. Screams followed.
“Mason.” Willa pointed to the window. He turned in time to see her shoot at a man climbing through it. The man quickly retreated.
Outside, what sounded like a four-wheeler in the distance approached between the Englischer ranch owned by Ethan Connors and Willa’s property. But it was only a single vehicle.
“Did you hear that?” He cocked his head to one side and listened over the arsenal of shells pounding the house.
“I do
. It sounds like Ethan’s four-wheeler.”
Gunshots were exchanged near the sound. If Willa’s neighbor had tried to reach them, he was now under attack.
The assault around the house halted. As bad as he wanted to look outside, Bartelli’s men could be waiting.
The fighting behind the house continued to grow closer. Then it stopped. “What happened?” Willa said.
The only noise now came from the shooting where the sheriff’s people were near the road, and that appeared sporadic. Relief swept over him. They were gaining ground.
Someone stepped up onto the back porch. A fist pounded against the door. “Mrs. Lambright. Willa. It’s Ethan. Can you open up?”
“That’s my neighbor.” Willa jumped to her feet and ran to the back door.
“Wait, it could be a trick.” Mason grabbed her before she shoved the dresser out of the way. He slid to the window and focused on the door. A man dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, a backpack on his shoulders, waited with his weapon in his hand.
“That’s Ethan,” Willa confirmed to his relief. “They’ll kill him.”
Together, they pushed the dresser back enough to open the door. Connors had moved to the corner of the porch and had engaged several shooters to the right of the house. The second he got a break he raced inside the house and slammed the door shut. “Get away from the door. They’re coming up fast.”
Mason grabbed Willa’s arm. Along with Ethan they ducked inside Beth’s room seconds before another blitz rattled the house.
“How did you manage to get through?” Mason asked.
“I’ve been trying to reach you for a while,” Ethan told them. “When your mare showed up at my ranch, I recognized her and realized the gunfire came from here. I started out on the four-wheeler, but it caught a bullet. I was forced to come the rest of the way on foot and let me tell you, it wasn’t easy avoiding so many armed men. I had to fall back on all my military training to slip past them.” Ethan’s ashen face reflected the extent of the ordeal he’d faced. “Ethan Connors.” He introduced himself to Mason. “I’m Willa’s neighbor.”
“Boy, are we happy to see you. Mason Shetler. Sorry we have to meet under these circumstances.”
Ethan shook his hand. “Same here. You related to Aaron and Eli?”
“I am. They’re my brothers.”
“I thought so. I see the resemblance. I spoke to the sheriff before attempting this trip.” He held up his sat phone. “He’s got state troopers on the way, along with law enforcement from all the surrounding counties. Sheriff Collins is bringing four-wheelers into my place in the hopes of reaching you from that direction. They’re doing everything to break through, but there are so many shooters out there. Any idea what’s happening?”
“Yes.” Mason explained the nightmare they’d gone through.
“Bartelli. I recognize the name. That’s one bad dude. I heard he’s about to stand trial soon.”
“Exactly. And our prime witness is six years old and hiding out in Willa’s root cellar along with my injured partner and Beth.”
And Mason’s hope had just about vanished.
Ethan shucked his backpack. “Let me take a look at your partner. I brought some medical supplies with me. From the amount of gunfire taking place around here, I figured someone might be hurt.”
“I can take you down,” Willa told him, then turned to Mason. “Are you going to be oke?”
Mason squeezed her hand. “Yes. Don’t worry about me. Take care of Erik.”
He watched her go and realized the love growing in his heart for her wasn’t new. Willa had always held a special place there. Whenever he thought about his life here, her pretty face beckoned him back. But she had her mother to care for. Her life would always be here in West Kootenai with Beth. Was his?
For years, he’d longed to return to patch things up with his family and find his way back to the community.
But the mess he’d made with his family, the bad decisions that had taken him away from the life he loved—could he ever move beyond them? Ever find forgiveness from his family for them? How could he ask this kind and gentle woman to help him clean up the mess he’d made of his life?
* * *
Willa thanked Gott for helping Ethan break through Bartelli’s soldiers. She and Mason had become battle weary from the endless attacks. Ethan’s appearance gave her hope the sheriff and his people would soon follow.
She opened the cellar and descended the steps. The frightened little girl clung to Mamm’s hand, her eyes darting past Willa to Ethan.
“You’re safe, little one.” Willa hurried to the child’s side. “This is Ethan. He’s a gut friend.” She kept the child close and waited beside Mamm.
“Beth.” Ethan acknowledged his friend before he moved to the man lying unconscious on the cot. Dropping to his knees, Ethan opened the backpack.
While he went to work on Erik, Willa leaned down to Samantha’s level. “Sweetie, Ethan is going to do everything he can for Erik. Stay here with Mamm where it’s safe.”
Willa let the child go and her mother gathered her close. “How bad is it?” Mamm whispered.
She didn’t want to mislead her mother, but Samantha could hear everything. Willa didn’t want her to know how bad things were. “Pray.” She straightened and went over to Ethan. “Can I do anything?”
Ethan’s grim expression said it all. He shook his head. “I’ll do what I can, but this man needs a hospital right away.”
The news confirmed the desperate situation facing them. Life-saving medical attention remained right down the road and unable to break through enemy lines.
She squeezed Ethan’s shoulder and returned to the living room where Mason leaned against the bookcase. Weariness clung to his handsome face.
Willa sat beside him. “It’s so quiet outside. Do you think the sheriff and his people managed to get through Bartelli’s men?”
“I sure hope so,” he said in a weary tone. Mason had been fighting these men since early that morning. She wasn’t sure how he kept going.
She turned her head and ran her hand across his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”
He reached for her hand. “You have no reason to be. I would be dead by now without you. And Samantha would, as well.”
Sporadic shooting continued in several directions, yet no sirens.
“What do you think they’ll do next? They have to know it’s only a matter of time before Sheriff Collins and his people shut them down.”
Mason studied their joined hands. “Bartelli won’t accept failure, and these men know it.” She tried to stay strong. The news was as bad as she thought. “Bartelli’s men will fall back from the road. They’ll probably leave a few there to attempt to delay the sheriff. The rest will come after us full force. In Dante Bartelli’s eyes, these foot soldiers are expendable. He doesn’t care how many die or get arrested.”
“But if Dante is captured, it could change things. He might turn on his bruder.” Mason didn’t answer and she figured it out. “He’s left the area already.”
“Probably. If he’s gone, there will be no way to connect him to what’s happening here.”
“But there is. There’s us. Samantha. She can now identify him as the one who helped his brother kill her parents...” Willa realized the truth and swallowed back a sob. “He’s counting on us not being alive. And none of his men will talk.”
Mason slowly nodded. “Exactly. If we’re gone and his people are too terrified to talk, there will be no one to connect him with this or any of his brother’s crimes.”
“Do you think we’re going to make it?” If they were going to die, she wanted to hear the truth.
He held her hand against his heart. “I don’t know,” he managed without looking from her face. “But when it gets bad, I want you to go down to the cellar and wait with the others. Let me handle Bartelli’s
—”
“Nay.” She shook her head and didn’t let him finish. “I’m staying here with you. We’ll fight them to the bitter end...together.”
Mason’s beautiful blue eyes held hers a second longer. “Oh, Willa, I so wish I could turn back time.” With those words teasing her with possibilities, he leaned in close and touched his lips to hers. His kiss was gentle and yet strong, like the man himself. Her arms circled his neck, drawing him near. No matter what the future held, if they lived and their lives never intersected again, she would remember his kiss for the rest of hers.
He pulled away and leaned his head against her. “I’ve always cared for you, Willa. I’ve probably loved you forever.”
Words that once would have thrilled her now filled her with sadness. She leaned against his shoulder while she struggled to keep from crying. She’d loved him just as long but lost him to a misunderstanding. She’d always believed that in his heart he felt the same way about her, and yet the truth came too late. And now she couldn’t think beyond the pain in her heart.
He put his arm around her and settled her close, his breaths ruffling the escaping tendrils of her hair.
“I’m going to apply for temporary guardianship of Samantha. It will require changing my work schedule, but...” He stopped for a moment. “You asked me once if I was happy with the life I chose. I’m not. But I have the chance to change Samantha’s life, and I plan to do everything I can to give her a happy one.”
Surprised, she pulled away and searched his face, trying not to show how much the reminder of his leaving affected her. “She will be so happy. Samantha loves you so much. Adopt that little girl. Make her yours. I think you would make a wonderful father.” The words caught in her throat and he saw it.
“What’s wrong?”
She looked away. This wasn’t about her and her foolish wishes. “I’m just happy you are going to be part of Samantha’s life.”
Too late. Their love came too late.
“A child needs two parents. I can see Samantha really cares for you and your mother.”
“Mason...don’t,” she said, her tone tortured.
