by Ruth Reid
“You’re not very smart,” Jack said, backhanding him in the face.
Ben stumbled backward, warm blood oozing from his nose. He caught the edge of the counter and hung on.
Grace’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I’ll get you a wet rag.” She opened the drawer, removed a dishcloth, then went to the sink.
Jack stormed across the room. He snatched her wrist. “I didn’t give you permission.”
“He’s bleeding.” Grace’s voice trembled.
Gordon stood. “Jack, you promised not to hurt anyone else. You promised, Jack.”
Jack spun around to face Gordon. “And what are you going to do about it?” His baleful laughter filled the room. He strutted over to Gordon and pushed him back into the chair. “You were supposed to steal food, not get caught! Now I have to take care of them.”
Gordon hugged the cookie jar. His eyes blinked with every harsh word Jack barked.
Jack snatched the jar from his grip and stepped back when Gordon bolted up from the chair. Taller by several inches, Jack dangled the jar above Gordon’s head.
“My treasure.” Gordon flailed his arms.
“It’s an old pickle jar.”
“No, Jack.” Gordon patted his chest. “Gordon’s treasure.”
Jack flung the jar at the wall. It shattered, sending tiny pieces of glass flying in all directions. “That’s what I should do to your head.”
Gordon covered his ears and shook his head. Mumbling something in what sounded like a foreign language, he began to pace.
Grace’s eyes widened with terror. She looked at Ben as if silently pleading for him to give her instructions on what to do. Ben was just as helpless. He wiped his nose on his shirtsleeve, blotting it with blood.
Jack pressed his hand against Gordon’s chest and stopped him midstep. “Stop pacing. You’re driving me crazy.”
Continuing to mutter, Gordon pivoted around and left the room. A moment later, the door opened.
Jack flew out of the kitchen.
Chapter Twenty-One
Your lip is cut open,” Grace said, dabbing a cool dishcloth on Ben’s face.
Ben winced.
Grace lifted the cloth. “I’m sorry.” His lip started to bleed again and she blotted it clean. “Do you think they’d leave if we packed up food and supplies for them?”
Footsteps trumped into the kitchen. “Who said you could talk!”
Startled, Grace dropped the rag and spun to face Jack. His eyes narrowed as he directed his gaze to each of them. Moving toward Grace, his glare had an unnerving flicker.
Grace inched backward. Lord, help us.
His form towered over her and when he leaned toward her, his nose practically touched hers. She gulped. Her stomach wrenched at the stench of his stale tobacco breath. She looked away, but he grabbed her chin and brought her face back in line with his. The man stroked his hand down her cheek. Vomit rose to the back of her throat. Grace backed up until she bumped into Ben.
Jack laughed. He stepped closer, sandwiching her between himself and Ben.
Ben backed up, giving her room to retreat, but the wall stopped him. Ben’s arm circled around her waist and he pulled her even closer to him, a comforting gesture.
“If this is your girl,” he said to Ben while letting his fingers linger on her neck, “keep her out of my way.”
The moment Jack dropped his hand, she spun around and buried her face in Ben’s chest. Behind her, the man’s footsteps moved away. Ben’s hand came up to rest on her back and an odd sense of security rippled through her core. Ben would figure out a way for them to escape. Her muscles relaxed. She took a few deep breaths, breathing in the scent of burnt wood embedded in Ben’s shirt.
“Are you okay?” he whispered next to her ear.
She nodded. Aenti sniffled behind her. Grace pulled away from Ben and wrapped her arms around Aenti Erma. “Ben will figure something out.”
“Pray, child,” Aenti whispered.
A knock sounded on the door. Grace’s heart leapt. She looked at Ben, wanting him to give her direction, but it wasn’t Ben who instructed her. Jack grabbed her arm and whirled her toward the door.
“Get rid of them,” he hissed.
Grace opened the door slowly, and only enough for her to poke her head out. “Mattie,” she said, willing her voice to stop shaking. She didn’t want to endanger her friend.
“What’s wrong? I saw the smoke.”
“Ben put the wrong wood in the stove.” She nodded.
“I was over at Ann Brennerman’s haus delivering some herbs and—Aren’t you going to invite me in? I have more tea for you too.”
“I, um . . .” Grace couldn’t think of anything to say.
Mattie frowned. “Grace, what’s going on?”
Jack pushed the door open, snatched Mattie’s arm, and yanked her inside, slamming the door closed with his boot. Mattie clutched her chest and heaved heavy gasps as if unable to catch her breath. Jack clenched his hands around her arms, lifted her off the floor, and shook her hard. “Shut up!” He dropped her midair.
Mattie hit the floor and lay there trembling, balled up in a fetal position.
Grace fisted her hands at her sides. She didn’t believe in fighting, but turning the other cheek wasn’t something she wanted to do either. They had to get rid of these men somehow.
“Get up.” Jack nudged Mattie’s side with the tip of his cowboy boot. “Now!”
Grace reached for Mattie’s hand and helped her to stand. Her friend’s eyes connected with hers. Grace gave Mattie’s arm a gentle squeeze. Stay strong.
Jack stomped into the sitting room and bent over Gordon, who was crouched down low with his head tucked between his arms. “Why are you hiding in the corner?”
Gordon whimpered something inaudible.
Grace led Mattie into the kitchen where they joined Ben and Aenti Erma.
“I’m going to offer to make them a food package to go,” Aenti said.
The two men tromped into the kitchen. Jack pointed to one of the kitchen chairs. “Gordon, take a seat.”
Gordon did. Folding his hands on his lap, he bowed his head.
Jack patted Gordon’s shoulder. “Now, you watch them.”
“Okay, Jack.”
Jack left the room.
Grace craned her neck and watched Jack walk through the sitting room and disappear down the hallway toward the bedrooms. She had money from her dog bed sales stashed in her stockings drawer. Perhaps they would leave if they had cash.
“Gordon, you must be hungry,” Aenti Erma said.
It hadn’t been more than an hour or so since she made him breakfast, but Gordon licked his lips like he was starved.
Ben edged toward the sitting room.
“I’m watching you,” Gordon said, pointing his finger at Ben.
“That’s good. That’s what Jack told you to do. Watch me go into the other room.” Ben slipped into the sitting room.
Gordon stood. “Hey.”
“I could make a special batch of cookies,” Aenti Erma said quickly. “What kind is your favorite?”
Gordon forgot about Ben and redirected his attention to Aenti. “Peanut butter.”
Grace tiptoed into the sitting room as Ben was prying the window open. Her heartbeat clambered against her chest. Don’t leave, please. She stretched her neck toward the hallway. Any minute Jack would find where she had hidden her money and be back.
Glass shattered in one of the bedrooms. Her heart pounded. Grace could only think of one thing that could make that sound. Her daed’s gun cabinet. Grace caught a glimpse of Ben leaning out the window and gasped.
She had to get his attention before Jack returned. “Psst. Ben.”
Ben scrambled back inside, pulling an axe through the window opening with him. He stashed it behind the chair as Jack tromped down the hall, her father’s deer rifle in hand. Jack marched over to the window and slammed it shut, then glared at Ben. He hoisted the gun up to his shoulder and pointed it at Ben.
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p; Grace gulped. “Please don’t shoot him. We’ll give you anything you want. You want food? I’ll make a basket . . .” Jack ignored her and jabbed the gun against Ben. “I have money!” she blurted. “In mei stockings drawer.”
“Go get it.”
Grace glanced at Ben. His complexion was whitewashed as he stood with his hands in the air. She sped down the hall to her room and rummaged through her drawer. She rushed back to the sitting room, toting a canning jar filled with cash and coins.
Jack motioned with the gun. “Move,” he told Ben. Once Ben’s back was toward him, he lowered the gun and snatched the money jar. “You two,” he said to Grace. “Get back in the kitchen.”
That was close. Grace turned and with Ben’s hand on her lower back gently nudging her forward, they hurried into the other room. Not hearing Jack’s footsteps behind them, she glanced over her shoulder. Jack was standing at the window, staring outside.
Please don’t let him find the axe. Please . . . But as Jack turned away from the window, he stopped beside the chair. Grace’s breath caught in the back of her throat.
Jack burst into the kitchen, wheeled the butt of the gun at Ben, and struck him in the head. “You’re lucky I didn’t hit you with the axe. Next time I will.”
Ben dropped to his knees, his eyes rolled back, and he fell face-first on the floor. His hat came off and something clanged.
Grace dropped to her knees beside Ben. Eyeing the metal hook, she moved her dress skirt over it.
“What was that?” Jack’s eyes roamed the floor.
Grace checked the bottom of her dress for the hook. Concealed.
Jack’s gaze stopped on Ben’s hat. Just as Jack scooped it off the floor, Grace spotted wires protruding from the inside.
“Why are you hiding this?” Jack shoved the hat toward Ben, who still hadn’t opened his eyes. Jack nudged him with the toe of his boot, but Ben didn’t respond. He towered over Grace. “Wake him up.”
She placed her hand on Ben’s shoulder blade and bent down closer to him. “Ben?”
Nothing.
Tears blurred her vision. She glanced up at Jack and shook her head.
Aenti Erma wet a cold rag and handed it to Grace, who placed it on Ben’s forehead. Lord, please help us.
Jack tore the small radio from inside Ben’s hat and tossed the hat on the floor. He turned the radio on. Static.
Under different circumstances, Grace would have reprimanded Ben for listening to worldly music and bringing a radio into their district, but today she could kiss the transistor as Jack assumed it had made the clanging noise.
Ben moaned. He touched the egg-sized lump on his forehead and peered up at Grace, dazed. He lifted his head slightly and squinted.
“Don’t move,” Grace said. She had to figure out how to get the hook out from under her dress before she stood.
Gordon hung on Jack’s arm. His eyes were wide and lit up like a boy given his first horse. “Can I see it? Can I?”
Ben pushed into a sitting position. He glanced somberly at Grace as he put his hat back on.
Grace lifted the hem of her dress skirt enough to show Ben the hook.
Jack handed the radio to Gordon, who showed Aenti and Mattie, then turned back to Jack, smiling wide. “My treasure.”
“Now everything’s your treasure?” Jack scoffed. “It better be gold like you said.”
“Gold, yes, like you said.” Gordon parroted Jack without taking his eyes off the radio.
Jack rested the rifle against his shoulder, walked the length of the room, and stopped by Mattie. “You’re going with us.”
Mattie wheezed. She clutched her belly and spewed vomit on the kitchen floor, spraying the man’s pant leg.
“I should make you lick it off my pants.” He shoved her aside.
Grace vaulted to her feet, the hook clanging to the floor. She bent down again, but Jack shoved her hard, knocking her off balance. He swiped the hook off the floor, then narrowed his eyes at Grace. She scooted backward, but Jack grabbed her by the front of her dress and hoisted her off the floor.
Ben shot up, then staggered once he was upright. “Let her go!”
“Now aren’t you the hero,” Jack sneered. “She’s going to keep me company.”
Dread clung like a spiderweb, causing her skin to crawl.
“She’s got a bad limp. She’ll slow you down. You’ll make better time by yourselves.”
Jack snickered. “I won’t let her slow us down.” He pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket and lit it.
“Then you should let me fix her shoe,” Ben said. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”
That’s the best he could come up with? Fix my shoe?
Jack grabbed the bottom of Grace’s dress and hiked it up, exposing her calves and causing her to suck in a jagged breath. “Show me the bottom of those shoes,” he said, smoke bellowing from his mouth.
Grace coughed, inhaling the toxic smoke. She lifted her shorter leg with the heel worn to the nub, and then the other one to show the difference. “It does slow me down. I’ve been meaning to have it fixed.”
The man grumbled something under his breath. “Well,” he snapped at Ben. “Fix it. And make it quick.” He peered at Aenti and Mattie, who were squatting on the floor wiping up the vomit with wet rags. “Put together some food—and matches.”
Ben went to the woodbox near the stove.
Grace steeled her expression and shook her head slightly at Ben as he bent over the woodbox. Kindling was too flimsy. She needed a piece of oak or beech.
Ben selected several pieces of the balsam wood, then glanced at her. “I’ll need a hammer and tacks.”
Grace headed to the door.
Jack grabbed her arm and jerked her toward him. “Where are you going?”
She lowered her head but couldn’t escape the cigarette smoke. “The hammer is in the shed.”
“Gordon, go with her.” Jack released his grip and she resisted the urge to rub her arm.
“Gordon,” Jack said louder. “Put that down and go with her.”
Gordon set the radio on the table and stood. Once they were outside, Gordon lifted his face upward and sniffed. “I smell smoke.”
It took walking outside for him to smell smoke? Her nose stuffed up the moment Jack lit his cigarette, and now smoke was all she could smell. She hiked to the shed, unlatched the door, and entered. Ropes and tools lined the walls. She made her way to her father’s worktable, where he usually kept a box of wooden matches in a glass jar.
“Dark,” Gordon said.
She glanced over her shoulder. Gordon had stopped at the threshold. He scratched his head and mumbled something she didn’t understand. Afraid of the dark, are you? Grace stopped searching for matches. She didn’t need light from a lantern to find the hammer and nails. Her father never left for camp without his tools neatly arranged. She located an old grease rag hanging from a hook on the wall and spread it out on the table. She placed a handful of nails on the cloth, rolled it up, then stuffed the bundle between her dress and apron. Think. What else? Her mind went blank. Her father had a few hand-saws, but those were too large to hide.
“Come on,” he said. “Jack’s waiting.”
“Okay.” She couldn’t risk stalling much longer. She removed the hammer from the pegboard and grabbed a few tack-sized nails.
“Jack said to be quick.” The man swayed sideways. “Don’t want Jack mad.”
She didn’t want him mad either. Grace stepped out from the building and pulled the door closed. She cupped the nails in one hand and carried the hammer with her other.
Inside the house, Aenti Erma and Mattie were busy packing food into the basket Mattie had brought with her herbs.
Ben pulled a chair out from the table. “If you want to sit and take your shoe off, I’ll fix the heel.”
She handed Ben the hammer and slipped off her shoe.
Ben snapped several pieces of balsam and layered them over the heel area. He tapped a few nails into th
e soft wood and frowned when the wood splintered.
Normally glue would work better, but in this case, he was using the balsam wood that was saturated in the chemical mixture for making the smoke green. Dipped in wax, the wood burned longer, but it also would prevent glue from adhering to its surface.
He tapped another nail in place. “This probably won’t hold. Will you take me instead? She’s going to slow you down.”
Jack sniggered. “You’re not someone I want keeping me warm at night.” He jerked the shoe from Ben’s hand and tossed it at Grace. “Put it on.”
Acid burned the back of Grace’s throat. Save me, Lord. Protect me, please.
Jack motioned to the basket Mattie and Aenti Erma were assembling. “Is that ready?”
“Almost,” Aenti replied.
Jack opened the door that led down to the dirt cellar. “Gordon, go down there and make sure there isn’t another way out.”
Gordon craned his neck into the stairwell. “It’s dark.”
“So what!”
“Gordon don’t like dark.”
As Jack argued with Gordon, Mattie leaned closer to Grace and whispered, “Don’t drink the tea.”
Grace crinkled her brows and mouthed, Don’t?
Mattie nodded, then motioned with her eyes at the men.
Jack shoved Gordon, causing him to stumble at the stairwell. “Look for another way out.” Jack slammed the door, muffling Gordon’s shrill cry.
Grace glanced out the window. What was taking LeAnn so long to get the bishop?
Gordon tapped on the cellar door. “Let me out. Please, Jack. Gordon looked. No way out.”
Grace could have told him there wasn’t another way out. Not that he would listen. Jack wasn’t even nice to Gordon, his cohort.
Jack opened the door and Gordon came out hugging himself. “Gordon don’t like it dark,” he muttered repetitively.
Jack eyed Mattie and Aenti Erma and motioned to the cellar. “Get down there.” He pushed Ben toward the cellar. “You too.”
Ben glanced half a second at Grace, a despondent look in his eyes.
“You breathe a word to the cops and I’ll kill her.” Jack shoved him again, this time hard enough for Ben to lose his balance and tumble down the stairs.
