by Reid, Ruth
“He might. But I’m not waiting.”
They walked several minutes. She looked back once but Gordon was no longer in sight. “Isn’t Gordon the one who knows where the treasure is?”
“What all did he tell you?” He jabbed the gun barrel against her spine when she didn’t answer immediately.
“Nothing.” She gripped the handle of the shovel tighter.
Branches snapped.
Jack pushed her behind a tree. He leaned toward the sound of snapping branches and slowly lifted the gun.
Gordon strolled into view.
Jack lowered the gun. He grabbed her by the wrist and moved out from behind the tree. “It’s about time you caught up to us.”
“Gordon doesn’t like to be alone.”
“Then I suggest you keep up. It’ll be dark in a matter of a few hours and you need to show me where that cabin is.”
Lord, where are You? Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her legs felt like she was dragging sandbags just to walk and Jack wasn’t about to let anyone rest. She took small steps, shuffling as she went. Pushed by Jack from behind, she fell.
“Get up.”
Even if he aimed the gun at her head, she couldn’t move. Spasms caused her muscles to constrict. She searched her mind for a reason to continue, but nothing gave her strength to press on.
“I said get up!”
Gordon walked past them a few feet and froze. “That’s it.” He pointed to his right.
Jack reached down, snatched Grace’s arm, and jerked her up.
Her shoulder socket popped and Grace cried out. He didn’t ease his grip until she started to move. Grace whispered scriptures mixed with prayers for strength with every step she took. The fifty or so feet felt more like miles before they reached Gordon.
Once they passed the towering pines, she spotted what Gordon had found. Only all that remained of the cabin was its burned-out shell and the stone chimney.
Grace swallowed hard. Her brothers had talked about this cabin—the cabin set on fire by an unbalanced son.
Gordon stared at the structure. He lifted his hands and covered his ears.
Jack came up beside him and clapped Gordon’s shoulder. “Good job. Now, go gather some sticks to make a fire.”
Gordon kept his hands covering his ears.
“Did you hear me, Gordon?” Jack spoke louder. “You found it.”
Gordon faced Jack with a haunted gaze that seemed to look through Jack. Gordon nodded, but Grace wasn’t so sure Gordon was aware of his action. He ambled away.
Grace turned to follow Gordon, but Jack grabbed her arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I was . . . going to . . .” Fear stole her voice. She looked away from his probing eyes.
“You’re staying with me,” he sneered.
Prickly sensations traveled along her arm like thousands of spiders crawling all over her. She didn’t want to be alone with him for even a second.
His grip on her arm tightened. “You’re going to be a good girl tonight, aren’t you?”
She stared at him hard and unblinking.
“Doesn’t it say something in that Bible of yours about a woman being submissive?”
A shiver snaked through her. She was running tonight even if he killed her.
The downpour had gradually reduced to a drizzle. The scent of burning wood was still strong, but only a trace of smoke curled over the trees. Ben held the prayer kapp and closed his eyes. “God, there’s a part in the Bible where Joshua prayed for the sun to stand still so that he could defeat his enemy. I need that same favor nau. I don’t know my way in the woods, and once the sun goes down I won’t be able to find her.”
The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous . . . His ears are open to their prayers.
Ben dropped to his knees. “I’m far from being righteous, God, but I beg of You to hear mei prayer. Grace needs You—I need You.”
When he opened his eyes, a fox was standing before him. Ben froze. Everything he’d ever heard or read about wild animals said they feared humans. But this fox not only wasn’t running away, it didn’t seem fearful at all.
Ben gulped.
Matted with mud, the animal’s body was slender, its reddish-orange fur dull. His small black eyes stared at Ben. Perhaps the animal was sick or hungry. Ben had heard about a raccoon that showed up at one of the local parks. When someone stopped to feed part of his sandwich to the raccoon, it bit him. Later, the park officials issued a warning about not approaching nocturnal animals that appeared friendly during daylight since they had a high likelihood of carrying rabies.
Ben wasn’t that curious about a fox. He wasn’t about to get close enough to be bitten. But that meant waiting for the fox to move away from the path.
The fox lifted its nose and sniffed. Then, taking long, sleek strides with its tail lowered, it crept closer to Ben.
Ben held his breath and froze, afraid to breathe, to move. He should be searching for Grace, but instead he was trying to hold still while a fox sniffed his pant legs.
Don’t bite . . . Oh, God, I need help here.
The fox looked up at Ben, then turned and walked away.
Ben blew out a breath. “Danki, God.” Now he needed help to find Grace. But the human footprints he found in the dirt were traveling in the same direction the fox had gone.
Grace took shallow breaths, keenly aware that Jack’s wandering eyes were canvassing every inch of her. He leaned the gun against a nearby tree, then removed a flask from his shirt pocket and took a long drink. He licked his lips.
Grace looked away. Being alone with Jack curdled her stomach. Where was Gordon? He’d gone into the woods to collect sticks to start a fire and still hadn’t returned.
Jack stalked toward her.
Stay calm. Grace tightened her hold on the shovel and backed up.
“What are you going to do, hit me with that?” He took another drink from the canister, then placed it in his pocket. Laughing, he reached for the shovel.
She jerked it away, which seemed to provoke his determination.
He grabbed the handle, but instead of snatching it from her, he leveraged it between them, backing her up against a tree. He leaned closer, touching his lips against her ear as he spoke. “We have all night.”
The stench of alcohol wrenched her stomach. God, help me.
Jack released his hold and reached for the flask.
Grace waited until he took a drink before she whirled the shovel with all the strength she could muster. Thwack. Jack held his head, staggered a few short steps, then dropped to his knees.
“Ach, God. Please help me. Please.” She ran, cutting through the woods toward the sound of the river. Her dress snagged on a thorny bush and tore when she pulled it free.
“Woman!” Jack bellowed.
She should have hit him again while he was stunned.
Brushwood snapped under his heavy steps. Her heart hammered as she broke through the buckthorn. The droning sound of her blood pulsating in her ears made the trout stream, babbling over a shallow bed of rocks, barely audible.
Jack grunted, closing in behind her. She looked back, caught a glimpse of him, then her feet went out from under her. A shrill cry escaped her mouth as she hit the rocky riverbank with a thud.
He pounced on her, clamping her mouth closed with a calloused hand, the weight of him stealing the air from her lungs. “Did you really think you could run away?” Licking his lips, he bent down, buried his bristly face in her neck, and slathered her neck with wet kisses.
She tightened her lips when his mouth moved over hers.
He lifted his mouth slightly. “Cat got your tongue?” His breath sour—wet—his lips touching hers as he spoke. “Fight me.” Jack took her mouth again, this time with more force.
She caught his lip between her teeth and latched on. He weakened momentarily, giving her enough wiggle room to free her hands. She reached for his neck and gouged her nails into his flesh.
He pulled
her against his body and logrolled her into the cold stream. Her head slammed against a rock. She cried out, releasing his bottom lip in the process. He buried her scream underwater. The image of his face—his bloody lip—distorted. Black spots filled her vision before he yanked her out of the water by her hair. She gasped for air seconds before being immersed again.
“Jack! Stop it!” Even muffled underwater, Gordon’s shout rang out.
It wasn’t until Gordon added “please” that Jack jerked her to the surface.
“Don’t you see we want to be alone?” Jack growled between clenched teeth. “Go back to camp.”
“Ah . . . what are you doing?”
“Help—” She wheezed as Jack pressed his thumb against her throat, cutting off her air.
“I’m going to help her bathe.” He turned his head and wiped his bloody lip on his shirtsleeve. “Now give us some privacy.”
She wiggled, was able to squeak, “Nay!” but her desperate cry didn’t reach past her mouth. The pressure against her throat increased and she fell limp in Jack’s arms.
“Jack!” Gordon’s voice deepened. “What did you do to her?”
“She passed out—that’s all.” He hoisted her into his arms and stood. “Don’t worry, she’ll be fine.”
The night air chilled her to the bone, but she fought the urge to shiver and clamped her teeth together so they wouldn’t chatter.
“Are you sure she’s not dead?”
“Not yet,” he mumbled under his breath.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Nothing felt worse than being cradled in Jack’s arms. With her eyes closed and her face pinned against his shirt pocket, which held his flask, she let her body go limp. If he suspected she was conscious—even alert—she would be in great danger.
Lord, danki for sending Gordon when You did. You saved me from Jack’s evil intent. Her throat tightened. I’m scared. I don’t want to be alone with him . . . It’s dark, God. What will he do to me when Gordon is asleep? I need a miracle.
In the same moment she finished the silent prayer, she heard the familiar scripture play over in her spirit. My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in your weakness. An image of Jesus flashed in her mind. She envisioned herself resting against His shoulder, safe in her Savior’s arms. Tension drained from her body. Her eyelids grew heavy and peace washed over her.
Sometime later, something stiff jabbed her in the ribs.
“Wake up.” Jack poked her side with the toe of his boot.
It took a moment for her eyes to focus. When they did, a shadowy form stood between her and the campfire. She closed her eyes. Maybe if she concentrated, she could pretend she was somewhere else. But she was toed in the ribs again, this time harder.
“She’s awake,” Jack said.
So much for pretending. He wasn’t going to let her forget she was under his control. Something minty wafted to her senses. When she opened her eyes, Gordon had sat down beside her.
He handed her a strip of dried jerky, a chunk of sourdough bread, and a cup of minty tea. She sipped the tea. Strong. He must have boiled it too long. It tasted bitter, but she wouldn’t complain. Not after Jack held her underwater in the frigid river. Her dress was still wet despite lying close to the fire.
Grace took a bite of bread. After not eating since breakfast, the sourdough tasted like candy. So did the jerky. She finished the crusty heel of the loaf and the smoked meat, wishing she had more. Though she would rather starve than ask Jack for more food. He hadn’t stopped staring at her—the snake. Pure evil ran through his veins. She lost her appetite.
Gordon scooted closer to Grace. “You talk in your sleep,” he said.
“Oh?” She should probably be concerned. After all, a man shouldn’t know her sleeping habits. But as odd as it was, she appreciated him watching over her as she slept—protecting her from Jack as darkness settled in. Over the past several hours, she’d developed an unusual sense of trust in Gordon. He had intervened for her twice, when Jack held the gun to her head and then at the river.
“You were talking about God’s grace being suffic”—Gordon looked at Jack—“what word did she say?”
“How would I know?” Jack grunted and tore another bite of meat off with his teeth.
“Sufficient,” Grace said, giving Gordon her full attention. “It’s a Bible verse I often quote.”
“I heard it before.” Gordon nodded and pointed to his head. “I have a weak mind. But my mom said I have God’s power. Like David had against Goliath.”
“God’s power, really?” Jack huffed. “You don’t even know what that means.”
“My mom said.” Gordon’s voice rose.
“She’s right, Gordon,” Grace said. “Your mom’s right.”
Gordon nodded.
“Mei mamm used to quote the Bible because of mei weak leg. ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.’ ”
Gordon smiled. “We’re both weak.”
“Yeah, you are,” Jack interjected.
Grace leaned closer to Gordon. “We’re both strong. Don’t forget that.” She needed to heed her own advice. “Your mother is a wise woman.”
“She’s dead.” Jack stood and tossed another log on the fire.
Tiny red embers squiggled to the sky.
Gordon stared at the flames.
“Mei mamm has passed away too,” she said softly.
“But I bet you didn’t kill her,” Jack said, poking the burning log with a stick. “Gordon got rid of his family.” He motioned over his shoulder to where the stone chimney stood several feet away. “He torched the place with them in it.”
Oh, God, the rumors are true. The hairs on Grace’s arms stood on end. Her throat dry, she took a large gulp of tea. Now that the tea had become tepid, the bitterness seemed more pronounced. Her tongue tingled. Grace tipped the cup. Tea leaves. Mattie’s words replayed in her mind.
Don’t drink the tea.
A wolf howled in the distance and Ben froze midstep. He had run hard, trying to make it as far as he could before the sun went down, but now he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face, let alone his surroundings. He stumbled over a root and fell facedown.
“You must want me on mei knees, God.” He lifted his hands up in the air and tilted his face toward the blackened sky. “Well, here I am!” he shouted. “Broken.” He dropped his arms and buried his face in his hands. “I’m like a blind man. How will I find Grace now?” His thoughts reeled. How he’d failed Grace, his father, everyone in his life. How he had dodged responsibility . . . dodged baptism and joining the church. Ben rubbed his eyes. This wasn’t the time to let his emotions run amuck, he tried to tell himself. But as he dropped to the ground, inhaling the earthy scent of the soil, he realized his spirit had been heavy for a while. “I am clay, oh God, and You are the potter. Please forgive me. Mold me into the man You’ve made me to be.”
You fool. You can’t barter with God, he chided himself. But as he lay quietly before the Lord, searching his heart, a greater power rose up within him. “Search mei heart, God. I want to be made new. A new creature through Jesus Christ, mei Savior.”
Something touched his hand and he opened his eyes, startled. In front of him, the fox lay down and placed his head on Ben’s hand. But what was even more amazing was how the sky flickered with light. Streams of greens and yellows bouncing across the sky stole his breath.
He scrambled to his feet and turned in a complete circle, mesmerized by the changing hues. He stood in awe of the work of God’s hand, too dumbfounded to move, to speak.
Ben glanced down at the fox, sitting patiently at his feet.
“I suppose this isn’t new for you, is it?”
The fox stood, turned around, and walked a few feet down the lit path.
Ben made another circle, admiring the vibrant colors. “Praise Your holy name, Jesus.”
Captured by the tranquility, Ben sighed. He wished he could have shared this mom
ent with Grace.
Grace! He could find her now. As he headed down the path, he caught sight of the fox sitting on the carpet of pine needles. It hadn’t dawned on him until now how God had used a raven to bring Elijah food. Perhaps the fox was sent to lead him.
It wasn’t long after Grace ingested the tea that her vision blurred and she became light-headed. Her heart was beating in an irregular way, skipping beats, then coupling a few in a row. She wiped her moist brow. What was in that tea?
Grace glanced at Gordon. He looked confused, staring at something. She followed his line of vision upward and her jaw dropped open. Brilliant lights—flickering greens morphed into yellows and stretched across the sky. She had seen the northern lights plenty of times, but they had never been this spectacular. Maybe she was hallucinating. Even the old stone chimney that was once part of the burned-out cabin seemed to glow.
Jack took a long drink from his flask, then set it on the ground and stood. He walked around the fire pit and stopped before her.
Her surroundings waved like heat off a paved surface. His face went in and out of focus. She would never be able to fight him off.
“Grab the shovel and follow me,” Jack said.
She glanced at Gordon, dazed and staring at the sky. Please, Gordon, pay attention. Don’t leave me alone with him.
“Do as you’re told.” Jack reached for her arm and jerked her up off the ground.
One whiff of his alcohol-laced breath and her stomach roiled. Acid gurgled to the back of her throat. She swallowed, but instead of diluting the burning sensation, it made her cough. She almost lost what stomach contents remained. The back of her throat flamed even more.
“Gordon!” Jack waited until he had Gordon’s attention. “Watch her.” He stormed toward the river. Once he was gone, Gordon redirected his attention to the flickering lights in the sky.
An inner prompting told her to run, but Grace’s brain couldn’t convince her muscles to move. She plopped down. Her eyelids felt heavy, as if her lashes had glue on them, because every time she blinked they wanted to stick. She closed her eyes and saw the same beams of greens and yellows.
