by Jody Hedlund
“I’ll t-take you t-to him,” Arnie said. There was a sharpness to his voice that worried her even more.
“I’ll go tell Tessa.” Once again she tried to break free, but his grip proved too firm.
“There’s no time f-for that,” Arnie said. “We h-have to go now.”
The urgency in his tone propelled Caroline into action, and she didn’t resist when he pulled her toward the woods.
“Is he hurt?” she asked breathlessly, trying to keep up with his fast pace.
Again he nodded. “There’s b-blood.”
Her heart plummeted, and she stumbled. But his grip on her arm kept her from falling. He led her through the thick woods, over fallen logs and under low branches, until they reached the clearing by the old windmill. Beyond it was the old well that Hugh had fallen into and that Ryan and the boys had subsequently filled with dirt and rocks.
The crumbling ruins of the windmill stood only a short distance from the shore. Just to the north rose a tiny spiral of smoke. Monsieur Poupard’s log cabin.
Caroline’s breathing was ragged, her chest pinched by the time Arnie finally stopped. She bent over, trying to catch her breath, and was surprised when Arnie didn’t relinquish his hold on her wrist. If anything, his clasp seemed to tighten.
“This w-way,” he said, jerking her toward the bricks that still formed a circular wall of what had once been the base of the windmill.
“What happened to him, Arnie?” she asked through her huffing. “Why is he here?”
Arnie didn’t answer but instead narrowed his eyes on the open doorway.
She followed, confusion mingling with her worry. Each step closer to the ruins, her dread mounted. What would she find inside?
Arnie stepped over a pile of bricks and stones in front of the door and then ducked into the windmill. The broken, jagged walls were all that remained. The roof and the windmill itself were long gone. With the exception of one shadowed corner, the daylight flooded the interior.
It took her a moment to distinguish Ryan. He was sitting against the wall, legs outstretched with his hands behind his back.
“Ryan!” she cried. In the dimness of the corner she couldn’t see anything wrong with him, didn’t spot the blood Arnie had mentioned.
At her voice, he sat forward. “Caroline,” he croaked. “Run!”
Run? Why? She started toward Ryan, but Arnie yanked her back with enough force that she careened into him and caught a whiff of fish and onions on his breath.
“Arnie,” she said, struggling to tug her arm free and put some distance between them. “Would you please let go now? I need to help Ryan.”
“Get out of here, Caroline!” Ryan called again.
“Arnie,” she said louder, “let me go to him. Isn’t that why you brought me here? To help him?”
For once, Arnie didn’t blush, didn’t shuffle his feet or act in any way embarrassed. Instead his jaw tightened, and his eyes flashed with a wildness that took Caroline by surprise.
“The b-best way to h-help Ryan is to m-marry me.”
She gentled her tone as though talking to one of the twins. “Arnie, do you remember what I explained to you earlier? I can’t marry you.”
“You c-can if you decide t-to.” His fingers dug into her arm. A vicious look came over his face, reminding her of Mr. Simmons when he’d lashed out at her father.
Fear tingled up her spine. She’d never been afraid around Arnie before. He was always so kind and soft-spoken with her. What had happened to the young man she once knew?
“Let her go, Arnie,” Ryan demanded, wriggling his arms. “Do with me what you want, but let Caroline go unharmed.”
Was Ryan tied up?
She looked more closely and saw that a rope was wound around his feet in a tight knot. Although she couldn’t see his hands behind his back, she guessed he was attempting to get loose, but unsuccessfully.
She made a move toward him, to unbind him, but once again Arnie stopped her. Pain shot into her shoulder and down her arm, and she couldn’t prevent a half scream, half gasp from slipping out.
Ryan thrashed. “Don’t hurt her! Kill me, set me on fire! But let her go.”
Before she could think past the burning in her shoulder, Arnie twisted both arms behind her back and wound a rope around her wrists several times before knotting it. He pulled her backward and looped the rope around an iron post sticking up from the ground.
She was too shocked to react.
“You c-can save Ryan’s life,” Arnie said, “b-but only if y-you marry me.”
Ryan shook his head. “Don’t do it, Caroline.”
Arnie shoved her aside at the same time he unsheathed a long hunting knife. He strode across the ruins toward Ryan.
“No,” Caroline squeaked, filling with panic. She wanted to believe that Arnie wouldn’t really hurt Ryan, that something strange had gotten into him and that he’d be back to his usual sweet self in a minute.
But when he reached Ryan, he raised the knife up and brought the hilt down onto Ryan’s injured arm with such force that Ryan cried out, writhing in agony.
Arnie lifted the weapon again, the blunt end poised to thrust into Ryan once more. Ryan braced himself for the blow.
“No!” she screamed.
But her protest did no good. Arnie swung the knife, driving the butt end against Ryan’s arm with all his weight.
Again Ryan cried out, the anguished sound echoing among the ruins like a wounded animal.
A sob rose in Caroline’s chest, and tears sprang to her eyes. “Please, Arnie. Please! Don’t hurt Ryan anymore.”
Arnie swung around and twisted the knife so that the blade pointed upward. The tip was smeared with blood.
Was that Ryan’s blood? Her stomach swirled with fear. Then everything made sense. Arnie had hurt Ryan. Arnie had tied him up. And Arnie had brought him out here as his prisoner.
But why?
“If you don’t m-marry me,” Arnie said as if sensing her question, “I’ll k-kill him!”
Ryan now lay twitching on the dirt floor, gasping for air.
Caroline hesitated. She’d decided not to marry Arnie. She had no reason to do so now, not with Ryan marrying Tessa and agreeing to take care of everyone.
At her reluctance, Arnie turned and aimed a sharp kick into Ryan’s side. Then another.
“Stop!” She strained against the rope binding her hands.
Arnie acted as though he hadn’t heard her. He lashed out with another kick, this one directed at Ryan’s head.
Ryan grunted, but hardly moved.
“I’ll marry you!” she screamed. “Just stop!”
Arnie took a step away from Ryan. Even in the coolness of the fall day, his face was flushed, and sweat had formed on his balding hairline. His eyes held that same wildness as before, and for a moment she wondered if he was crazy. She’d always known he was a simple man, but she’d never imagined that a monster lurked beneath his bashful exterior.
If she hoped to save Ryan, she would need to stay level-headed and try to placate Arnie.
“I changed my mind. I’ll marry you.” She forced calmness to her voice that belied the churning inside. She had to save Ryan, even if it meant her marrying a monster.
Arnie cocked his head, his eyes still narrowed.
“I didn’t realize you were so intent upon marrying me, Arnie. I thought you made the offer out of compassion, to provide an alternative to my predicament at the lighthouse. I didn’t know you wanted to marry me regardless.”
Arnie wiped his sleeve across his forehead, seeming to wipe away some of the tightness in his face.
She hurried on. “Now that I know how you really feel, I’ll go back with you and we can get married.”
Arnie stared at her as if testing the truth of her words. “T-today?”
“Yes, of course, today.” She made herself smile at him.
After a brief moment of hesitation, he gave her one of his shy smiles. “Are you s-sure?”
&nb
sp; “I’m positive.”
His smile widened, and the crazed look in his eyes dimmed a bit.
She drew a shaky breath. “Now, why don’t you untie Ryan and let him go. He needs to get back to Tessa. She’s in her wedding dress, waiting for him to take her into town to get married.”
The hard lines returned to Arnie’s face, and he turned to Ryan, who lay unmoving on the floor.
A dark wet spot seeped through the back of Ryan’s coat. Was it blood?
She wanted to rush over to him and tend to his wound. Instead she forced herself to look away and pretend to ignore Ryan. She had to draw Arnie’s attention away from hurting him any further.
“Let’s go, Arnie,” she coaxed. “We can go get married right now.”
Arnie nudged Ryan with the tip of his big shoe. “We’ll g-go, but I’m leaving him t-tied up.”
She didn’t know how she could walk away and leave Ryan bleeding and wounded. She had a strong feeling, though, that if she protested, Arnie would likely inflict more pain on him.
Arnie toed Ryan one last time before turning and joining her. He unhooked the rope from the post but wrapped it around his hand. He led the way toward the door, stepping over the fallen bricks and stone. She stumbled along, her wrists chafing against his pull that tugged her arms at an awkward angle.
She cast one final glance over her shoulder to where Ryan lay. She willed him to wake up and look at her, so he could see the message in her eyes—that she would come back for him after the wedding. Or somehow she’d get word to Tessa to go to him.
One way or another she’d rescue him.
Chapter 23
Ryan moaned. Fire seared his arm. He was in the middle of a battlefield, facedown in the trampled dirt. He knew he was alive only because of the grit coating his teeth, the dust lining his nostrils.
He lifted his head and found himself staring at a dismembered arm almost touching his face. The dirt-encrusted fingers were rigid and spread wide, as if reaching out to him and begging for help.
For an instant, he wondered if he’d died and this was hell.
He dropped his face back to the ground. The screams of the wounded penetrated the ringing in his ears caused by the blasting of cannons.
A white-hot burning sensation shot down his arm and ended at his hand. He wiggled his fingers, only to feel more fire licking at his skin. Strangely half his hand was numb. He could feel nothing in several of his fingers.
He tried lifting his hands, but something bound his arms behind his back. He yanked, then cried out as pain once again sliced like a knife into his arm.
His mind raced back to what had happened. He’d been sneaking along the edge of the clearing, low to the ground, crossing to the woods with his regiment. His comrades had been on either side of him, breathing hard, the stench of sweat and fear swirling about them.
Then the gunfire and cannon blasts hit them without warning, decimating them before they’d had the chance to return fire.
He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the fog. This time Caroline’s face flashed before him, her blue eyes wide with shock and worry. She’d tried to rush to his side, but she hadn’t been able to come to him.
He’d wanted to warn her to stay away, that it was too dangerous, but he’d fallen back into a state of oblivion where everything was black.
“Caroline,” he murmured, his tongue swollen and sticking to the roof of his parched mouth. “Stay off the battlefield.”
He pried open his eyes. A brick wall and silence greeted him.
Where was he?
He pushed against the dirt, broken pieces of brick cutting into him. He lifted his head enough to see crumbling walls surrounding him.
Everything came crashing back: Arnie dragging him through the woods, tossing him into the windmill ruins, and binding him so that he couldn’t move. The young man had been strong and ruthless. And Ryan hadn’t been able to fight back. He’d simply lain there, half conscious, not really caring if he died.
After a while, Arnie had returned with Caroline, had bound her too, and then had proceeded to beat him in front of her.
Being the sweet, caring young woman that she was, Caroline had caved to Arnie’s demand that she marry him. She was always sacrificing for others. She didn’t take the time to think about what she needed or how the decision would impact her.
Arnie had known she wouldn’t be able to withstand watching the beating, that she’d have too much compassion, that she’d want to put an end to his suffering, even though he’d deserved it.
Aye, he’d deserved every punch and kick for being so stupid and turning back to his drink. He’d been a fool to believe that he could just have one glass of whiskey or one sip. The craving inside him was still too strong.
He knew now that if he wanted to truly stop drinking, he would have to stay far away from the temptation. Turning to drink was the cowardly way to deal with his problems. He’d been afraid last night, afraid that Caroline wouldn’t want him, afraid that he wasn’t good enough for her, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to be the kind of man she or her siblings needed. And he’d let his fears push him to swallowing the whiskey.
He didn’t want to think that maybe he’d even unconsciously sabotaged his relationship with Caroline, giving her an easy way to say no to his proposal.
Even so, he hadn’t meant for everything to get so far out of control. He hadn’t meant to fail so utterly. He slumped back into the dirt.
Not only had he failed himself, but worst of all, he’d failed Caroline. If he’d been fully alert and at his strongest, he could have protected her. He could have figured out a way to help free her from Arnie.
He released a long, frustrated groan. There was no telling what Arnie might do to her. The man was dangerous. And he couldn’t let Caroline marry a man like that, especially not to save him.
Ryan jerked against the ropes binding his hands and feet, but they burned his flesh and dug into his skin. He had to free himself so that he could rescue her. He strained once more, but all he managed to do was rub his flesh raw. The pain ricocheting up and down his injured arm was almost as intense as the day he’d gotten the wound. His body throbbed, and his head pounded. Bile churned, the nausea rising up. He was going to be sick.
After several heaves, he moaned and lay listless, the stench oozing next to his face.
He closed his eyes, not bothering to move. He thought he’d been in hell on the battlefield, but the thought of Caroline marrying Arnie was worse. And there was nothing he could do to stop her.
Arnie shoved her into an empty chicken coop and then locked the door. She tried to protest past the gag over her mouth, but her muted cries only burned her throat.
“I’ll be b-back . . . just as s-soon as I get the p-preacher,” he said, then turned and stalked off.
She was trapped again. She’d thought during the walk back to the inn that his anger had dissipated, for his expression had grown kind again. He hadn’t rushed her as he had when leading her to the old windmill. They’d walked along amiably enough, or at least she’d tried to give the appearance of friendliness.
She didn’t want him to know how he’d reviled her. But with each step away from Ryan, she hadn’t been able to stop shivering as she thought about how brutal Arnie had been. And with each step the thought of marrying him grew more repulsive.
Nevertheless, she’d kept up her charade of civility, praying that when they arrived at the inn, he’d free her hands and remove the gag. She’d hoped perhaps she could reason with him and make him understand that they needed to release Ryan.
But Arnie was determined to marry her before doing anything else. He probably thought Ryan would try to prevent the marriage if he was set free.
Ryan had tried to warn her to run. He’d known the danger she was in. But at the time, she was too confused to heed him. And now it was too late. Even if Ryan managed to free himself, he wouldn’t know to look for her in this chicken coop. No one would think to look for her here.
The darkness closed around her. The only light slanted in through a few cracks in the walls. The air was stale and reeked of chicken droppings and the metallic scent of blood.
She crouched into a ball with her hands still bound behind her. She shifted, her knee squishing against something slimy. She shuddered to think of what remained in the coop. Body parts of one of the cocks killed in the weekend’s fights?
“Arnie! Anyone! Let me out!” she cried. But the gag in her mouth choked the words back, making her cough. Her breath caught in her chest, and all she could think about was that she was going to die here. In the dark. Alone.
And if she died, then no one would know where Ryan was. No one would come to his rescue. He’d die too. What would become of her family then? Who would take care of them?
Tessa had no skills for earning an income. Mr. Finick would force her out of the lighthouse, and the Lord only knew what kind of work the girl would find then. Sarah would die. The twins would have to scrounge on the streets.
In a burst of panic, Caroline banged her shoulder repeatedly against the side of the coop. She had to find a way out. A hollow echo was all her pounding elicited. Finally she stopped, dropped her head to her knees and gasped for air.
Darkness hovered all around her, ready to claim her. She felt dizzy and weak. All she could do was huddle in a shivering mass.
Chapter 24
Ryan wasn’t sure if minutes or hours had passed as he fell in and out of consciousness.
At the crack of a gunshot, he stirred. His eyes flickered open, and he found himself staring at the faded brick wall of the old windmill.
A gunshot meant someone was out hunting.
A jolt of energy propelled him up. He could hardly move without causing unbearable pain in his arm, but he somehow managed to rise into a sitting position. The knife abrasion in his back stung, and blood had plastered his shirt to his back. Yet he could tell it was only a surface wound; a few stitches should take care of it.
He strained to hear more gunshots. Instead, only the eerie silence of the overcast day met him.
