Hurriedly, he finished dressing, then started toward the front door. Jasper, who’d been sleeping in the parlor, lifted his head and whined.
“You stay here, fellow. I’ll bring her back,” Phillip knew his promise had been meant to reassure himself more than the dog.
As he stepped onto the front porch, he cursed the cruel bastard who had shot his horse. He had to find Shae and find her quickly.
He wondered how long ago she’d left and if he could catch up with her. Somehow he had to find a way. For if she reached her father on her own, how in God’s name could he hope to save her?
And how in God’s name could he survive it if he failed?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
After thudding over several ruts hidden by the darkness, Shae steered her velocipede to the middle of the deserted street. As solid rubber tires jostled her over crunching shells, she thought that the machine’s nickname, Bone Shaker, had never been more apt. Nevertheless, she pedaled faster, faster, her fury increasing with each revolution and spinning past the inky, silhouetted houses that seemed to hem her in.
Jumbled images flashed through her mind, jagged as the fragments of a shattered mirror. Mother. King. Alberta. Lucius. The cameo. The portrait. The hidden box inside the dusky wardrobe.
She hurtled through the moonlit night, then skidded around a corner, thinking only of her goal. She had to find her father. She had to make him understand he couldn’t lie to her anymore.
She couldn’t think beyond that necessity. Could barely conceive of anything past a compulsion for more speed. As if after six years, six more minutes mattered. As if she sensed that time was running out.
Shae sped around another corner, then looked up to see a white horse thundering directly toward her. The animal trailed some sort of buggy, but Shae noticed little besides the fact that the huge beast was about to run her down.
With a screech of terror, she hit the brakes and turned sharply, desperate to avoid a collision. As the velocipede slid out from under Shae, the white horse lurched in the opposite direction and then stumbled on loose shell. The gig behind tilted on one wheel, then jerked suddenly upright.
Shae landed on her left side, then rolled onto her back. Her hip ached where she had fallen, and her palm and knee both burned. She was beginning to feel like nothing so much as a mass of layered bruises. Gingerly, she tested arms and legs and was relieved to find them functioning.
She heard the approach of horses’ hoof beats.
“Damn, Ross.” A man’s voice came from the other side of the gig. “You see her fly outta that buggy? She ain’t movin’ neither. What if we gone and killed her? We only wanted Payton, not his sister. Mr. Lowell will piss vinegar when he hears.”
Darkness flowed inside Shae like an overturned inkpot. Could her own recklessness have helped to cause the death of Phillip’s sister?
Then a second realization made her breath catch. These must be the men who had shot Phillip! She forced herself to freeze in the hope they wouldn’t see her.
“Shut up, you idiot.” A different voice this time, even rougher than the first. “Someone’ll be along, with all the racket. Be best if we skedaddled.”
“Wait. Look at this. Horse musta hit this two-wheel contraption. Awful late out for a ride on one o’ these outfits.”
A horse moved closer. Shae’s heart thudded even harder. She didn’t think she’d been hurt much by the fall. Should she try to run, to hide in shadow, or should she continue to feign unconsciousness?
She heard a creak of leather and then a man’s footsteps. “Damn, it’s another girl, Sal. What the? Why, I think it’s the same one as was with the nigger-lover when we shot him.”
The voice loomed just above her, and she smelled old sweat, not quite masked by the strong scent of bay rum. Shae wondered if he saw her shaking.
“She’d know where he was then. See if she’s bad hurt.”
She should lie still. She knew it. But something in her jerked to life at the thought of them demandingeven forcing her to tell them Phillip’s location. Before the thought formed fully, she leapt to her feet and tried to run.
Her skirt tangled in the velocipede’s pedal and tripped her. She hadn’t gone two steps when a hand clamped on her upper arm. With her free hand, Shae swung wildly and connected with the man’s jaw.
“Christ!” he swore loudly. His hands flew to his face.
Shae ran toward the street’s edge, to an area shaded by a tangle of trees and an overgrown mass of oleanders.
“I’ll shoot!” one of the men threatened.
Shae didn’t slow her pace a bit. If they caught her, they’d likely kill her anyway after what she’d witnessed.
Down the street, a door banged shut. “What the devil’s all that ruckus?” a man demanded.
“Go back to bed, old man!” Ross yelled.
“See how smart you talk when I put a minié ball in you, Mister! Now you get away from her before I get back with that gun!” the man in the doorway shouted. The door creaked again and then banged shut.
Shae threaded her way through thick foliage, then cut between two houses. Her breath came in ragged gulps, and perspiration soon dampened her hair. She’d never run so much in all her life as she had since this afternoon. Yet she dared not stop. The two men could be anywhere behind her, looping around the block. They might have easily split up.
She thought of running back toward Lucius’s house to warn Phillip, but decided it would be the worst thing she could do. If she were followed, she might cost him his life.
So instead she wended her way through alleys and alongside houses and breathed a silent prayer that the young woman lying so still in the street had not been Phillip’s sister.
*
Phillip ran toward the sounds of shouting. A man’s voice cut through the moonlit night.
“Now you get away from her!”
He arrived in time to see two horses receding into darkness. But the one that stood in harness soon captured his attention. White Wing, his father’s gelding!
The horse stood nearby, blowing hard and trembling. But it was the empty gig behind the animal that alarmed Phillip most of all. Running toward it, he came upon a young woman’s sprawled figure a young woman who had to be one of his sisters. Her dark hair massed around her, he couldn’t tell whether it was Lydia or Justine.
“My God!” he shouted, dropping to his knees beside her. If she were dead because of him he couldn’t bear to complete the chilling thought.
Quickly, he examined her and found that she was breathing. A familiar watch pinned above her breast solved another mystery. It was Lydia, as he’d thought most likely. Only foolish, impulsive Lydia would drive about alone at night. Alone to search for him. Why hadn’t he tried harder to get some message to his sisters, so she wouldn’t have felt she had to risk her safety?
He looked up at the sound of fast-approaching footsteps. An old man in a nightshirt stopped several feet away. He clutched a rifle tightly in both hands, but he pointed it away from Phillip.
“She dead?” he asked. His shock of gray hair stood like a cock’s comb, ruffled as with sleep.
Phillip shook his head. “She’s breathing. But I’ll need to get her to the infirmary, and quickly. Could you help me get her in the gig? She’s my sister.”
“Yessir, but what I’m wondering is where’d those other fellas go? Up to no good, I would swear it. I run ‘em off, but they went after that other gal. I’ll send my boy for the police.”
“Other there was a second girl?” Phillip asked. Only then did he see the fallen velocipede. It lay on its side, its metal frame gleaming with the moonlight. Shae’s velocipede, he was certain.
Dear God. What had happened here, to involve both Shae and Lydia? Were the men who’d shot at him earlier to blame? His heart sank as he thought of what they might do to Shae to hurt him. He wished he had a gun and a swift horse to give chase.
But he had neither, only Lydia, who lay unconscious
beside him. Her breathing and her pulse were strong, but if she’d hit her head, she might still be gravely injured. He had to get her to the infirmary immediately.
Carefully, he and the old man moved her to the gig. She groaned once, but nothing roused her. Phillip used one arm to keep her propped upright.
“Tell the police, when they arrive, that a woman’s been abducted. Her name is Shae Rowan. She’s she’s my fiancée.” He struggled with the newness of his declaration and with the thought of how quickly, how horribly his relationship with Shae might end. Could saving Lydia cost him the woman he knew that he loved? The Devil himself couldn’t devise a more painful quandary!
Phillip took up the reins with his free hand. He gave the man his name and thanked him for his assistance. “I’ll be seeing my sister to St. Michael’s. If you could do me another kindness, I’d be greatly obliged.”
“Be glad to help you, Mister. The name’s Duncan,” the old man offered.
“Could you send your son to my other sister, Justine? Tell her what’s happened, and ask her to have my foreman, Frindly, meet me at the infirmary.” He gave the man his address on Lee Boulevard.
The man repeated the directions. “Be sure to. Hope your sister and the other gal are all right.”
“Thank you, Mr. Duncan.” Phillip flipped the reins and urged the nearly spent old horse to do his best.
*
“Why don’t you let me have a look at that?” Dr. Hiram Tuttle reached toward Phillip’s shoulder.
Phillip pushed his hand away. “Not now. Please, tell me about my sister.”
Dr. Tuttle gestured toward chairs in the waiting area. A tall man, his red hair was now silvered with its first few strands of white. Three years before, he had been Phillip’s mentor, and his friend.
Phillip shook his head. He couldn’t sit down, couldn’t do anything but think about his sister and Shae Rowan. He’d spoken with the police, who said an officer would soon “begin an investigation of the matter.” But what good would that do, Phillip wondered, if by then the complaint changed from kidnapping to murder?
He cursed himself for getting Shae involved with his troubles. Someone was trying to kill him. What business did he have dragging her into this mess? Already, his sister lay unconscious because of his naïve foray into racial justice.
Tuttle laid a reassuring hand on Phillip’s arm. “I’m certain that your sister will recover. She’s awakened, though she’s still quite groggy. There are no indications of debilitating trauma to either brain or body, though the left knee is quite swollen.”
“May I see her?”
“Of course. If you weren’t her brother, I should have been happy to have you assist earlier. I’ve told you before, many times, that medicine is what you’re made for. You were a fine doctor, Phillip. Has this incident convinced you I was right?”
“Thank you for seeing to Lydia so quickly.” That was all that he could offer now. Hiram had no right to ask for more, and the last thing Phillip needed was another reminder of his failings.
He found the private room Tuttle had arranged for his sister and went inside.
The instant Lydia looked at him, her eyes filled with tears. She reached for him, and in an instant, Phillip met her embrace.
“Oh, Phillip!” Her voice sounded ragged in his ear. “I was so frightened you were dead like Father. I didn’t know what else to do”
He released her, and his relief gave way to an unexpected flare of anger. “ So you had to scare me half to death by going off all on your own? Lydia, you could have been killed out there.”
“Don’t lecture me about risk-taking. I understand you’ve been ignoring threats for quite some time.” Lydia’s thin brows drew toward an angry V.
“Frindly told you.”
“He was worried when he heard your horse was killed. He thought you might be” Her gaze flicked to the bloodstain on his shirt, and her brown eyes widened. “What happened? Have you been shot?”
“Just cut. I’m fine. And I’m sorry that I frightened you. How are you feeling now? You gave me quite a turn myself, to find you lying in the street.”
“My head feels like it’s been on the wrong end of one of those heathenish prizefights Father was so fond of. Did the police catch those men yet?”
“Tell me about them,” Phillip whispered, praying silently she could offer some clue to lead him to Shae quickly.
Instead, she shook her head. “It was dark, but I could hear their voices. They were the same ones who went after you. White men with coarse talk. They were chasing me when something spooked the horse.”
Disappointed, Phillip kissed her on the forehead. “Rest now, dear. I’m going to see to it they’re punished.”
“Wait. I do remember something. After I fell, I heard some voices. There was a name, I think.”
“What was it?”
“Russ?” Her forehead wrinkled in concentration, and she put a hand to it, as if it ached. “No, no. It was Ross. Ross, I’m certain of it.”
“Do you remember anything else? It could be important.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe later, when my head stops pounding so.”
He touched her cheek. “I’ll have Mrs. Kelso come and sit with you. I’m afraid I have to”
“ Don’t go,” she begged. “Promise me you’ll stay safe. Promise everything will be all right again.”
Once more, he embraced her tightly. “You know I’d like to, more than anything. But I can’t say those words and call myself an honest man.”
When he left the room, some movement down the hall caught his eye. Justine and John Frindly both waved for his attention. He rushed to meet them.
Justine threw her arms around his neck. “Phillip! You’ve been hurt too!”
How frightened she must have been to leave the house at this hour! Silently, he added her terror to his account.
“I’m fine. It’s only a cut, but I had to stay out of sight for a bit. Can you forgive me for worrying you and Lydia?” Phillip managed to free his right hand to shake Frindly’s. Deep circles marked his manager’s need for sleep.
Justine kissed Phillip on the cheek, then nodded. “I can forgive anything, so long as you’re alive. Or at least, anything but myself. I never should have allowed Lydia to leave the house without me. She begged me to go with her, but all I did was try to stop her”
“ Lydia will be fine. She took a hard knock to the head and banged her knee, but I just saw her. She’s a bit dazed but glad we’re both safe now. Why don’t you go and see her? She’ll be so pleased you’ve come.”
Justine shook her head. “She won’t want to see me, and I don’t blame her.”
“Don’t be absurd. If you’d gone with her, you might well have been injured too or even killed. The whole idea of running around at night was ludicrous. I’m glad you had sense enough to stay home.”
“I always stay home.” She shook her head, and he could see tears forming in her eyes. “It’s all that I know how to do.”
The three of them walked back toward the examination room.
Despite his impatience to find Shae, Phillip laid a comforting hand upon Justine’s shoulder. “You’re here now, and that’s what will matter to Lydia. I wish that I could stay, but something else has happened, and Mr. Frindly and I must see to it at once.”
“What is it?” Justine asked.
“It’s Shae. I don’t know how to say this in a way that won’t alarm you . . .”
She took his hand, as if to return the encouragement he’d given her. “Simply say it then.”
Phillip nodded. “Lydia claims her accident was caused by the same men who attacked me. And I have reason to believe they may have taken Shae.”
“Who are they?” Frindly asked. “If we know that, I know the men to put on them immediately.”
“I’m certain they’re white dockworkers, but I didn’t get a clear view of them. Lydia thinks she heard a name. Ross, or maybe Russ.”
; “Doesn’t sound familiar, but I’ll do some checking,” Frindly told him.
“Why would they have Miss Rowan?” Justine asked. “How?”
“I’m not certain of the details,” Phillip said, “but I must find her before she’s hurt.”
“No! You can’t go out again,” Justine insisted. “You’ll be shot. Call the police, for heaven’s sake. I won’t go through this worry.”
“Would it make a difference if I told you I was going to marry her?”
“You’re you’re what?” Justine’s dark brows shot upward. “After all that’s happened with Rachel?”
Frindly, too, looked shocked but held his tongue.
“Rachel betrayed me,” Phillip said, rushing through the words as though to speed away the bitter taste of them. “I am finished with her, and I intend to marry Shae. Mr. Frindly, how many men do we have who would help us find her?”
Frindly frowned as he thought. “I know several good men, but with all the threats, it’s difficult to know for certain whom to trust.”
“What about the some of George Sayres’s friends, the ones we hired first?”
“If you put those Negroes on the streets to look for white radicals, we both know what will happen.”
Phillip nodded grimly. Frindly was right, he knew. A renewal of the unrest. Criticism in the papers. Fighting, maybe bloodshed would erupt. Dr. Tuttle had been correct, he realized. He had made a mistake in entering his father’s business. Because he put human costs above his profits.
He considered another cost, that of Shae. No matter what the other consequences, he couldn’t let her suffer. How could he bear it if she were hurt because of him?
Or killed. The thought shot through his veins like an infusion of ice water. He knew he had to save her, no matter what.
Night Winds Page 17
