Touched by Fire

by Gwyneth Atlee

  He would have to live with it, he realized. The best thing he could do was kill her and move on.

  o0o

  Nausea gave her focus. Think about the queasiness, Hannah told herself. Think of it swirling in your stomach, churning toward your throat. Concentrate on not vomiting. Then you won’t remember all the things he did.

  Useless. They came anyway, dark flashes. Broken pieces of a pain so sharp and jagged, the edges cut like shards of glass. She dared not try to grasp a piece and turn it, examine any thought.

  Tears leaked out beneath her swollen eyelids. She couldn’t help assigning the most razor-like a name. It had been rape, a word she’d only heard discussed in whispers, an act more filthy than divorce.

  She’d thought she would die. She’d fought so hard to make him kill her. But in the end, she wasn’t strong enough, and, God help her, she’d survived.

  She tried to move her arm to wipe away a tear. Hurts flared, no longer quite as dull. Whatever he’d shot her full of must be wearing off.

  Hannah tried to catalog her wounds as she lay still, but the task was hopeless. She had become all ache, with some spots only more or less insistent.

  Her mouth felt dry as tinder, and she thought longingly of snow. There must be snow outside this building. Snow to quench her thirst.

  “There’s water right beside you.”

  His voice. Had he read her mind? She started, all her instincts warning her to run, but her body far too battered. Finding the right eye swollen shut, she forced open her left. She had to see Malcolm, to locate the threat and edge away.

  Her gaze fell on the water. As much as she wanted to die, her body urged her hand to take the cup.

  It might be anything, she thought. It might be poison. Not caring, she tried to lift it to her mouth. Her battered hands refused to grasp, so she used them together clumsily, as if she were a child wearing mittens. She drank quickly, desperate to moisten her parched mouth.

  “Not too fast, or you’ll be sick,” he warned. “Morphine does that, first few times.”

  She wanted to ask why. Why would he beat her senseless, then give a drug used to ease soldiers’ pain? But she couldn’t talk to him, couldn’t risk that anything she said might anger him and bring a repeat of last night.

  “Who was the child?” he asked.

  Hannah lowered the cup and stared at Malcolm. He was sitting cross-legged by the fireplace, sipping at coffee. Child? Most of yesterday flashed on and off like fireflies in her memory. What did Malcolm mean? What was he expecting her to say?

  “At the church, who was the child?” he repeated.

  The lightning flashes coalesced into an image of Amelia, and Hannah abruptly found her voice. “You didn’t hurt her, did you? You didn’t hurt that little girl!”

  “I didn’t even know that she was there, but when I fired —I never set out to hurt a child, Hannah. Did you, when you spread that blood around your room?”

  He was blaming her again, blaming her for something he’d done to Amelia.

  She raised both hands to her face and sobbed aloud. Even if she managed to escape Malcolm, how could she face Daniel knowing she’d caused his child to be killed?

  o0o

  After a few hours of troubled sleep, Daniel was awakened by Abel Skinner at the door.

  “Mrs. Tanner passed away,” he whispered without preamble. Uncomfortably, the man adjusted wire-framed glasses.

  Daniel backed up and let him step inside. “Wake up, John,” he called.

  “I heard,” John said. He rubbed his eyes. “Poor woman.”

  Skinner continued. “Dr. Heinrich says she was conscious for a while. Long enough to say who did it. Fellow by the name of Captain Hollas. Fire victim. He was treated at a couple of Marinette temporary hospitals for burns to the face and hands. Nobody knows where he came from, and none of those Christian ladies tending him liked him in the least. Sounds like an ill-tempered, demanding ass.”

  “Sounds just like Malcolm Shelton,” Daniel said. “Maybe he never got out of Peshtigo in time. I thought we ran him off.”

  “About six feet tall, black hair, dark eyes. Is that your man?”

  Daniel nodded. “He’s from Shelton’s Creek, Pennsylvania.”

  “I’ll wire the law there. If he turns up, they’ll have questions. If he turns up with the woman, they’ll have proof as well.”

  “He’ll know that, won’t he?” Daniel asked. “He’ll know he can’t go back with her.”

  “Maybe. But he’s not a rational man, if he’s carried a grudge this far. I’ve wired every train station within two days ride. They’ll be looking for him and for Miss Shelton.”

  “He couldn’t ride far yesterday, not in that storm. Where could he be hiding?” Daniel asked.

  “We’ve checked the local hotels and boarding houses. No luck. But there are cabins here and there out in the woods. It’s a big area, although since the fire, it’s shrunk. We won’t need to check the burnt lands.”

  “How many roads and trails are there going out of town to the likely areas?” John asked.

  “Maybe half a dozen. But the snow covered any hoof prints.”

  “Hoof prints. So someone saw a horse?” Daniel splashed his face with cool water from the basin.

  “A big black, heading northwest.”

  “Shall we, John?”

  John nodded.

  Daniel shook Skinner’s hand. “You’ve had a busy night. Thanks for all you and your men have done.”

  “We’re not finished,” the sheriff said. “We’ll keep looking until we find her. I’d recommend that you stay here. This man is armed, and he’s already killed one woman.”

  Daniel nodded grimly. “And we’re going to find him before he makes it two.”

  After a hurried breakfast, the brothers went to the livery for their horses. Phineas had bought a pair for Daniel as a wedding gift. The two bay mares had been driven into town, for use after the ceremony. Now John and Daniel rented saddles from the livery.

  Their uncle met them, and they shared the morning’s news.

  Phineas pulled a huge pistol out of his belt and offered it to Daniel. “I know you don’t hold with guns no more, but even the Bible says there’s times to kill. When you find that bastard, give him some of this.”

  “Where the hell’d you get this hog-leg?” Daniel took it carefully. Though very old, the gun had been recently cleaned and polished.

  “Had it since I come here, back in ‘47. Still shoots straight as ever. I use it now and then when a weasel’s out to get my chickens. Figure if it can kill one kind of low-down weasel, it’ll be good for another.”

  Daniel clapped a hand on his uncle’s shoulder. “Thanks. You’ve been mighty good to us.”

  Phineas rubbed his shaggy beard and lowered his gaze. “Don’t speak no more about it. You and yours are all the kin I have that I can stand. I know I told you women were just trouble, but your Hannah’s a rare one. She don’t make a man feel like he’s all dirty feet and clumsy hands. Now you go get her back.”

  o0o

  As the morning wore on, harsher pain crept through Hannah’s haze. She tried to assess her condition while keeping still as possible. Though every part of her ached, a lump on the back of her head and her right eye felt most swollen. Her wrists and hands were stiff and badly bruised, but she didn’t think he’d broken any bones. In several spots, caked blood made her skin stick to the coarse blanket. Through slitted eyelids, she checked the room and found herself alone. Rolling to one side, she used her elbows to push herself to a sitting position.

  She must have slept a while, for she had not heard Malcolm leave the cabin. Daylight, as well as cold air, penetrated chinks in both the walls and ceiling. Was it possible that he had gone away? Or was he waiting out there, to see if she would try to run?

  She wondered how long it would be until he returned. Fear stirred her empty stomach once again. She couldn’t be here, with him, when night fell. For if his appetites rekindled, how could
she defend herself?

  Hannah pushed back the maddening thoughts that spiraled in like vultures. Instead, she turned her attention to searching the room for anything she might use as a weapon. It hardly mattered whether she killed Malcolm or provoked him to kill her. She couldn’t endure his weight on top of her again, the horror as he violated her.

  Unbidden, a memory of Daniel circled in. Daniel, who she’d loved so much. Daniel, who would never have her now.

  Her sore hands curled like the legs of a dead insect. She felt as empty as a lifeless husk. If she just lay here, unmoving, would it even matter what he did to her?

  With a painful moan, she staggered to her feet. Yes, it mattered. Yes. If she were going to die, she must do it as she’d lived. She would go out fighting for a chance.

  In the dying firelight, she searched. Except her petticoats and undergarments, Malcolm had stripped the room of everything, even the cup she’d used earlier. Could he have given up and left her here alone?

  That didn’t seem like Malcolm. Wouldn’t he gloat or threaten instead of merely slinking off? Even so, she supposed it might be possible. He had seemed affected when he asked about the child. Even after everything he’d done, she didn’t doubt his statement that he’d never meant to hurt the girl.

  He’d only meant to destroy the woman who could have been her stepmother. Could have been.

  Hannah remembered that night in the river with Daniel and Lucinda. Each of them took turns holding Amelia, shielding her from flame. The three had worked as one to save her against such awful odds. How could anyone take her from them now?

  Slowly, painfully, she dressed in all that was left of her garments. Beneath the soft heap, she was glad to find her shoes, even if they were impractical. Gathering the blanket, she wrapped it around her shoulders. She was going to need its warmth when she tried to escape.

  o0o

  Daniel rode just ahead of John, along another trail. Thin trees stood straight as bristles, reaching for the winter sun. Only the break between them marked the narrow trail. Ahead of him lay an unbroken track of white. The only tracks he noticed were the tiny footprints of birds and small rodents, none large enough to pierce the frozen crust.

  His head ached from lack of sleep and the glare off of the sunlit snow.

  “Let’s go back and try that other branch,” Daniel called behind him to his brother.

  Just as tired, John nodded, and they turned their animals. And saw it. The first time, they’d passed by.

  Daniel was first to slide off of his mare. Heedless of the snow dampening his legs, he knelt and lifted the edge of cream lace that peeked out above the surface of the snow. John was beside him in a moment. Both held their breath as Daniel picked up the ruined wedding gown.

  “For the love of God . . .” John muttered.

  Daniel couldn’t speak at all. Instead he leapt aboard the mare and urged her to a gallop. If Malcolm had killed Hannah already, only time and a good thaw would lead him to her body. But if there’d been some reason he had taken her, there must be a cabin, or Hannah would have quickly died of cold.

  And if they were in that cabin, then he might still have time.

  o0o

  Hannah pulled the loose board that served as the door’s handle and raised a hand to shield her vision from the whiteness all around. Tears collected on her lashes as she squinted. She stood, afraid to move until her eyes adjusted to the light.

  A strong hand clamped on her upper arm. “Get back inside. You’ll catch your death, dear Hannah.”

  Hannah wedged her body against the doorjamb, too repulsed to move. Malcolm’s face came into focus.

  “You look terrible. There must be so much pain. I’m going to give you something for it, just like I did last night.”

  Behind him, she saw his horse was saddled. A second animal carried several packs, but not a saddle. Malcolm didn’t plan to take her after all. The meaning of his offer crystallized. The shot he gave would truly take away her pain, forever.

  She shook her head and looked past him for a place to run. “I won’t die that easily. Not just to convenience you.”

  He closed on her, tightening the pressure on her arm. “Why not? Surely, you don’t imagine Daniel Aldman will still want you. He might have kept your divorce quiet, but after yesterday, everyone will guess what was done to you. I’m offering a kindness, Hannah, an easy, quiet passing. You must realize there’s nothing left for you.”

  The blanket slid off her shoulders, and she began to shiver. He was right. She thought again of a dead fly, lying beyond pain on a windowsill.

  Malcolm let his fingers trace the curve of her bruised neck. “Don’t be stubborn —or do we need a repeat of the lessons learned last night?”

  His threat shattered her inertia, and with strength borne of terror, she slammed her palm into his nose. He cried out in unexpected pain and stumbled backward. In that moment, she ran. She clambered aboard his black horse and dug her heels into his sides.

  The animal leapt forward, the packhorse trailing of its own accord. In the snow, the horse moved slowly, but still fast enough to outdistance a man on foot.

  But not a bullet. Hannah heard three blasts before the gelding lurched, then tumbled forward with a grunt. Before she even realized the horse had been shot, she rolled forward, downward, into a ravine.

  Pain flared in a dozen spots, and her vision grayed. Only the cold shock of snow against her flesh prevented her from losing consciousness. Instead, the icy jolt propelled her to her feet at the bottom of the gulch. Remarkably, no trees were growing in it, so Hannah ran along the clear path, heedless of her wounds.

  o0o

  Daniel saw her in the distance, clad only in a petticoat. He drew his uncle’s pistol as shots brought down the horse she rode. But he couldn’t find Malcolm, even though he heard the gun.

  Instead, his eyes were drawn to Hannah, floundering through the heavier snow along the ravine’s bottom. He heard her frightened cry, and then another, far more terrifying sound. A crack of ice, not gunfire.

  Hannah was on the frozen surface of a creek.

  “Don’t move!” he shouted, not caring if he gave away his position.

  A movement distracted him as a man leapt aboard a gray horse laden with packs.

  Daniel raised his gun to fire —and heard a second loud crack, then a splash. He looked where Hannah had been standing —and realized she was gone.

  The pack horse’s hoof beats were receding, but he barely noticed. Instead he urged his own mount closer to where Hannah had disappeared. Leaping off, he slid down the steep bank. He remembered Hannah couldn’t swim. In this frigid weather, it might not matter if she could.

  He saw her face lift from the water, her hand clutching the broken edge of ice. Her face, so discolored with bruises, he almost doubted who she was. Tearing branches from the nearest bush, Daniel slid toward her on his belly. He held them out and called to her, “Hold on!”

  Her hands grasped the bare limbs reflexively, and he began to pull. In the distance, he heard another shot. His brother. John didn’t own a gun, didn’t have one with him now. Had Malcolm Shelton shot his brother too?

  Hannah’s upper body was lying on the snow above the water level. Her blue eyes stared past him, through him, as though cold or shock were leaching life from her.

  “Don’t let go!” he shouted.

  She grabbed tighter, and then the thin bush snapped. Much more quickly than she’d emerged, she slid back toward the opening, and death.

  o0o

  Fire flared in John’s forearm, where the bullet struck. His instinctive recoil knocked him from his mount, and he rolled into the snow, staining the pristine white with blood. The armed rider had come on him so fast, he hadn’t had a moment to react. Even if he had, he wondered what he could have done. He’d been an idiot to come here unarmed.

  There were two wounds, top and bottom, and he guessed the lead had passed right through. Though he felt nauseated with the pain, he realized he’d
been lucky. Clutching his left arm tightly, he lurched to his feet.

  The horse had shied away and refused to allow him to approach, so he stumbled off in the direction he’d seen Daniel ride. God help him if his attacker were still near.

  When he saw his brother, John nearly forgot the throbbing pain. Daniel was lying on his belly in the bottom on a ravine, reaching into what looked to be a hole punched through a sheet of ice. Daniel scooted backward, yanking —John’s heart jerked at the sight —a drenched body by its dark, matted hair. Awkwardly, Daniel pulled each arm out of the hole. Then, grabbing the wrists, he continued backing toward the ravine’s edge until the sodden form lay upon the surface.

  John half-ran, half-slid down the bank to reach his brother. The body Daniel dragged toward him was nearly as white as the drifted snow. It took John’s shocked mind several moments to realize this limp mass could be only Hannah Shelton.

  Daniel spared him a glance. “I heard a shot. Glad to see you’re still alive.”

  John stared at Hannah’s bluish lips when Daniel rolled her over. Against her pale, pale flesh, black and purple bruises stood out starkly. Daniel scooped her into his arms as though her weight were nothing and started running up the hill. “We have to get her warm!”

  It took only a few minutes to follow tracks and find the deserted cabin. Inside, a fire’s embers still glowed life-giving warmth. Staggering behind them, John picked up the blanket lying in the doorway and brought it to where Daniel had placed Hannah, near the hearth.

  “If you’ve got any of those fancy prayers saved, now’s the time,” Daniel said as he tucked the blanket’s edges around her.

  Finishing, he glanced at his brother. “You’ve been shot.”

  John nodded and sank to the floor. “Hurts like hell. Bleeding some, too. Guess I ought to have a look.”

  The cabin started spinning.

  “Don’t you pass out on me.” Daniel fished out a clean handkerchief. “You have another one of these? I can make a decent bandage.”

  His head bobbed in response. He let his brother remove his coat and tend the wound.

  “See,” Daniel told him as he worked. “The Army did me some good after all. This looks pretty clean. Went right between the two bones. Now, if you can keep from fainting, I need you to chaperone.”