Wildwood Creek

by Wingate, Lisa

  Please, please make me strong enough. Please help me. . . .

  Pushing upward, I peered over the tumble of debris lining the pit. There was definitely light somewhere beyond the chamber ahead. Not much, but enough to see by, to find my way. Abandoning the lantern, I crawled upward, finding my footing on the cave floor again. The rocks were slick, a cold mist of condensation seeming to cling to everything. The air smelled fresher. I couldn’t be far from the entrance now.

  Curling my arms around my waist, I moved toward the next chamber, doubled over, shivering, fighting to keep my teeth quiet as I worked my way closer to what looked like an old rockslide that might have sealed off the rear of the cave in the past.

  A sound caught my ear. Feet splashing in water?

  Then it was gone.

  Chapter 24

  BONNIE ROSE

  JULY 1861

  Essie Jane’s eyes shift toward the schoolhouse door, then return to me as we stand together in my tiny room. “Asmae say we gots to do it. Now, while the missus gone out to see what Massah done in the wood. Fo’ she go, she say to Miss Peasie, ‘If the dog’s gone, gots to be somt’in done ’bout gettin’ rid of the whelps.’ Miss Peasie, she beside herself up to the big house. She a gentle soul, miss. She don’t never want to hurt dem chil’ens.”

  Essie Jane reaches for me then, touchin’ my arm, her skin cold against mine as I clutch the babe who has finally cried himself out. The chill wakes me from the feeling that I’ve fallen into a nightmare dream and none of it is real. “We gots to go get ’cross the river now. Big Neb say he know how to find Missah Hardwick. Big Neb say we get pass the river ford wit’ dat mule wagon fo’ it fill up too high, den we keep on and pray dat rain keep comin’ and wash out the crossin’ fo’ Massah figure where we gone and come afta us.”

  Fear arises and covers me. I know Essie Jane is speaking true, but it’s a truth too horrible for imaginin’. How can such a thing be? They’re coming for the children? Can it really be so?

  But I know it in my heart. I know it from all that’s happened today. From the man’s words to me, himself. This is a nightmare come to life. I cannot let these children be taken by him, but the moment I resist, my death is certain as well as theirs. And Maggie May’s. We must run. But with ten children and a babe? And in the storm? How can we do it? How much chance do we have of success?

  I close my eyes, hug the babe close, and whisper the most desperate prayers of my life against its downy head. Heavenly Father, if you’d hear one such as myself, hear me now. We need nothin’ short of a miracle. Save this babe and save the rest of us. Deliver us from evil, for thou art the kingdom and power . . .

  Then there’s no more time, so I turn to Essie Jane. “Help me gather the little ones. Don’t speak a word to them of what’s happened to their folk. They must have their wits about them, or we’ve no chance at all.”

  “Yes’m,” she says, and together we hurry to the schoolroom.

  “Quickly, children.” I rouse them from their hiding places. “We’ll be leaving now, and I want no questions about it, do you hear me? Put on your coats and shoes if you have them. You older ones help the little ones.” I point to Aiden and Tomas, who’ve talked for hours now of seeking rifles and heading out. They’re like two half-grown strays, working up the courage to challenge the butcher for a pound of sausage. At thirteen and eleven, they haven’t a chance of survivin’ but to flee with us, whether they care to admit it or not. “No arguin’, you two. You must think of the others now.”

  What else? I wonder. What more? But my mind races as fast and wild as the lightning streaks outside the window. “Maggie May, take everythin’ from our room. All that can be used for keeping warm and for travelin’, and from the pastor’s room as well. Hurry now, as fast as a wink.”

  I give the babe over to his ten-year-old sister. He’s gone soundly himself to sleep again, thankfully. Maggie returns with the preacher’s frock, and I wrap it over the both of them. “Keep the babe dry as best you can. You must be a little woman now, Corrie. It’s what your ma and da would need from you, do you understand?”

  She sniffles and nods, poor thing, her chin quivering, her eyes round and wet. It’s too much burden for a child of just ten, but the babe knows her scent the best. I pray he’ll remain settled, but should he cry, there won’t be anyone hearing him over the storm. The devil has unleashed his horses in the sky now, and he’s cracking the whip over them. They thunder like madness as Maggie and the older boys garb the other children. Essie Jane flits to the window to seek after any sign of Mr. Delevan’s men coming for us.

  In the corner Klara Baum still whimpers like a kitten. She presses closer to the wall as if she’ll melt herself into it. I go to her last, crouch close, look into her eyes. “Listen to me.” Her hands are bleedin’. She’s torn the fingernails bare in her grief and terror. “Hear me now, Klara Baum. Staying here is as sure as dyin’. You must get your wits and rise now. You must follow on, help with the younger ones. Those men are coming for you again, and this time they’ll be taking more than they have already. Do you understand me, child?”

  She nods and climbs slowly to her feet, her head bowed, her arms wrapped tight over the blanket I’d used to cover her torn dress. She limps as she moves. “My cloak for her. Give her my cloak, Maggie May.”

  We wrap her in the last of the clothing we have, and I look around. What else must we take? We haven’t any food nor a weapon, save for kitchen knives.

  “We bes’ be gone, Miss Bonnie.” Essie Jane’s eyes are dark bits in circles of white. “He comin’. I feels him comin’.”

  “Get the lantern.” I gather the children near the back door to go out. I count down each one, making certain we’ve left none behind before I lift the latch. Behind it, the door rattles in the wind, and soon as the latch is gone, the door blows inward, bringing the storm with it. The children scream and some plead to stay where we are, and I tell them we mustn’t.

  The storm rages, and we’ve no choice but to run into it. It’s the lesser of the two opponents.

  Overhead, the trees bow and sway as we file out. The rain drives in, cold and blowing sideward, soaking us before we’ve even descended the steps. There’s water over the path already, but not so much that we can’t walk it.

  “Take a hand! Take a hand!” I scream to the children, but the storm steals my voice away, so I turn my back to the wind and rain, stand against it, and link the children together, big, then little, big, little. Essie Jane goes in front with the lantern and the oldest boys. Maggie and I take the rear.

  We move slower than we’d like, our heads against the wind, Essie Jane finding her way only because she knows it so well. The lantern is no match for the storm, and before long, we can only grope through the darkness, Essie Jane finding the path in each flash of light.

  The creek swells by the minute, it seems, and I wonder if we’ve any chance of making the river ford, even now. Beneath our feet, the caliche mud turns wet and slick, and the children slide and fall and pull one another up. Thank goodness for Aiden and Tomas. They’re strong young men, and many a time they straddle a watershed in the path with the angry creek at their backs, so as to help the rest of us through.

  Big Neb finds us on the path, and he grabs up Essie Jane’s hand and leads us the rest of the way. We tumble onto the Delevans’ porch, wet to the bone already and near drowned, each of us.

  Miss Peasie herself runs out, meeting us there. She’s gathered food in a basket, and she thrusts it into my hands, cryin’ fitfully, “Oh, the children! Oh, the children!” She moves from one to the next, pulling them to her, soakin’ the front of her dress, trying to ease their pain or her own, or both. “I can bring them something dry. Something pretty for the little ones.”

  “There isn’t time for it,” I tell her. “We must go now, ma’am. We’ve no time.”

  “Oh, but to the babies in the storm . . .” She paces toward the door, then back. “Oh . . . oh . . .” Raking her fingers through her hair,
she tears the ribbon loose, and a patch of long gray hair comes with it.

  Big Neb takes her hands and stoops eye-to-eye. “Miss Peasie, we done talk about dis. We done talk, you ’member? Massah, he gone done dat ter’ble thing, and it gone go bad for dese chil’ens, he come back. You ’member now? We gots to get down the wagon road. Gone lock you and Asmae and the other womens up in the attic, so can’t be said you had none to do wit’ it. Massah track down anybody, it gone be me and Essie Jane. We only ones takin’ the risk. You ’member, dat’s how we decide it?”

  Peasie looks long at him then, her mind coming and going from it. I feel the moment ticking by as we wait, frozen. Asmae slips her arm around her mistress’s shoulders. “Come ’long, now, missus. We gone back inside. We gone up top, and I give you yo’ medicine, so you be sound ’sleep soon. We gone wait out the storm, and we ain’t tell nobody what happen here dis night. Jus’ we all pow’ful feared by the storm. We don’ know nothin’ mo’. You come wit’ old Asmae now.”

  They disappear into the house then, and Big Neb sends Essie Jane after them to see to the locking of the upper door. He dashes away through the rain to the wagon shed and soon enough we can’t see a thing of him. Again I feel the time passing. It seems forever before the wagon rushes ’round, a team of Mr. Delevan’s mules sliding in the mud ankle deep. Their tracks are gone in the water as quick as they come, which will be God’s blessin’ to us if we’re able to get off. It’ll take Mr. Delevan’s men a bit before they find the wagon missing and discern where we’ve gone.

  We load the children as the rain ebbs a bit. Aiden and Tomas aren’t willing to climb in.

  “I’m not leavin’ my ma and da and my sister,” says Aiden. “Tomas and me are goin’ back after our folk.”

  “Your folk are gone,” Big Neb yells above the rain. “Ain’t nothin’ you can do fo’ dem now. But we get dis here wagon bog down in the mud, I’m gone to need you boys on the pry bar.”

  “If you stay here, you’re given up for dead, and perhaps all these little ones as well,” I plead with them as the rain pours over us. “You listen to me. You must help with the wee ones. There’ll be no one going back. Not any of us.” And I know it is so. There is only one way out of here for the lot of us. One way that doesn’t include the shedding of more blood today.

  Overhead, the attic window opens and the frantic voices of the kitchen women challenge the storm as it rises up again. “Lights on the hill! Lights on the hill!” they cry out.

  “Up with you now,” I tell the boys, and the three of us climb in together. Big Neb takes Aiden out again. “You come hol’ the brake fo’ me. Keep dis wagon off the mules when we gone down the hill.” Aiden scrambles out, then, and Big Neb closes the wagon gate, pulling the tarp down behind us.

  Moments later the brake releases, and the wheels lurch forward, sucking out from the mud and sliding down the hill too fast as big Neb wrestles and calls to the mules. I hold the children close and whisper prayers over all of us, and the rain breaks free again. We’ve no way of knowing yet whether it’ll be a blessing or a curse. A crash deafens the air, and I wonder if it may be thunder or a rifle shot.

  Is it salvation or the devil on our heels? There’s nothin’ more we can do but hope the angels carry us as we skid ’round the corner and run breakneck away from Wildwood, praying we make the river ford in time.

  Chapter 25

  ALLIE KIRKLAND

  JULY, PRESENT DAY

  Outside, thunder exploded as I crept past the rockslide and into the chamber, trying to discern its edges in the dim glow cast by a larger passageway beyond.

  I didn’t see him at first, in the shadows near the wall. My heart pitched in my chest when he stepped out, an unmistakable human form. He was tall, thin, slightly stooped over. Something dangled in his hand, pointing toward the floor.

  A flashlight. He clicked it on, and the beam illuminated his dark, tight-fitting pants and a pair of combat boots that seemed comically oversized.

  Something about that was familiar. . . .

  He stepped forward. My mind registered his profile, the way he walked, and relief swelled inside me. Help had come, even if in a strange form. Thank God. Everyone we knew must be out looking for us.

  How long had we been missing?

  “S-stewart?” My voice was weak and hoarse, almost inaudible over the noise of the rain outside the cave. I rushed toward him as he turned. “Oh, th-thank God, Stewart. Thank God s-someone f-found us!”

  He stumbled backward, surprised, the flashlight beam bouncing toward the ceiling, then turning my way, blinding me. I threw a hand up, peering through my fingers to adjust to the brightness.

  “Allie.” He hurried to me, wrapping me awkwardly in his arms. “You’re okay.”

  A sob pressed my throat, and I felt myself collapsing into him. Finally, I wasn’t alone. Help was here. He shifted, then something slipped around my shoulders, heavy, warm. A coat that smelled of rain and woodsmoke.

  “What happened?” He patted my back awkwardly, bracing his feet apart to steady me as I swayed. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. I came as soon as I heard you’d gone missing. It was just pure luck that the map of these caves was in my research.” His voice was a welcome comfort. A promise of rescue.

  “I d-don’t know . . .” I stammered, the words vibrating with my teeth, almost unintelligible. “I was asleep . . . in my b-bed . . . the last thing I remember . . . and then . . . I woke up here. How l-long . . .”

  He tucked my head under his chin, his arms wrapping more tightly. “I have to get you out of here.” I felt him twisting to lift me from my feet. “The water’s coming up. This place could flood if the lake level rises any more. It isn’t safe.”

  I pushed away, stumbling a couple steps toward the passageway and the pit. “Wait. Kim . . .” My head swam, and for a minute I lost my balance, then doubled over, catching the coat around my shoulders and letting the blood flow into my head again. “Kim’s . . . b-back there. She’s in bad shape. We . . . we have to g-get her out.” Clarity burned away the fog, and the floor came into focus beneath my feet, the shadows evaporating.

  Stewart slipped a hand beneath the dangling coat, his fingers circling my arm, supporting me. Turning toward the light of the entrance, he guided me with him. “We’ll send more help. There’s a search team nearby. I need to get you out of here first. You’re in no condition to . . .”

  We stumbled forward, Stewart half lifting and half dragging me. I thought of Kim, far back in the cave, the water possibly rising. “No!” His grip broke as I spun away, finally stumbling to a stop against the wall of the cave. “I’m not leaving Kim. We c-can get . . . get her out. I’ll help you. We can’t leave her here.” If Stewart was wrong about a rescue team nearby . . .

  His body stiffened suddenly in silhouette, the line of his back straightening under the black T-shirt, his shoulder blades jutting against the fabric, his fists clenched.

  “Stewart?” A strange, primal reaction ran through me, quick and sharp and visceral, burning away my dulled senses.

  The growl started low and grew into the chamber, fierce, animalistic. I realized it was coming from Stewart. When he whirled around, his teeth caught the glow of the flashlight, his lips drawn back. “It’s always her, isn’t it? It’s always her, or your work, or some guy you met next door. You don’t think I knew about that? You don’t think I saw?”

  I steadied myself against the wall, sidestepped away, but I was moving in the wrong direction, toward the interior of the cave, toward the pit. “Stewart, w-what are you . . .” I tried to find his eyes in the darkness, to understand what was happening.

  He threw the flashlight my way, and I jumped as it struck the wall nearby, the sound echoing into the chamber, the beam shining on him, turning him into an actor on a strange, twisted stage.

  His long, thin arms flailed crazily. “I let you go away for the summer, and this is how you repay me? Mess around with some guy? Some man you just met? Throw it all away f
or him? You don’t think I knew? I was watching. I saw you with him by the lake and behind the cabin, sipping your little coffee cups in the morning.” He raised a finger, pointed it. “Cheating on me!” His voice grew and filled every corner of the chamber.

  My mind raced backward. The nights I thought someone was in my bedroom . . . the times Alexis saw a lurker near Wildwood . . . the day things were moved around in my quarters, the chairs straightened, the flowers that were left behind the tinderbox . . .

  “You were . . . you were there. . . . It was you.”

  “You’re just like all the rest of them. Just like them. Just like them. No different.” His chin jerked downward, his face disappearing into the mop of curly hair. He advanced a step. I backed up another. “I would’ve let you save her, you know. I would’ve let you call and tell them where to find your friend, once we were away. But now it’s ruined. All ruined. And it’s your fault. It’s all your fault.”

  Survival instinct scrambled inside me, looking for a toehold. He’d brought Kim here as a means of convincing me to leave with him? “Stewart, wait. I’m sorry. We can just go . . .” If I got out of here alive, I could send help for Kim. At least there would be some chance. There had to be people around the lake, people who really were looking for us. Was that why Stewart hadn’t gone forward with his plan? Was that why he was still here, pacing like a caged animal?

  I had to calm him, to get him to take me outside. In here, he could do whatever he wanted, and nobody would know. I imagined myself and Kim, our bodies left to slowly fade, nothing remaining but a mystery.

  “All lies.” His voice rose as he strode back and forth. “All lies, all lies, all lies. All you do is lie.”

  “No, Stewart.” A movement behind him caught my eye. I recognized the bulk of a form sliding through the shadows near the wall. Andy . . . the blacksmith from Wildwood? He brought a finger to his lips, then circled it in the air, motioning for me to keep Stewart talking.