by Betty Bolte
"Be that as it may, you wait here while I ready the carriage." Paul nodded briskly, then slipped through the door leading to the kitchen and the west side of the house.
Amy bristled at the implication of his command, but then saw the fear reflected in the eyes watching her and relented. Evelyn appeared at the top of the stairs, cradling her baby tight against her chest. Paul was right. Amy's place definitely remained with her family and friend.
Blasts from the guns sounded outside the front door. Walter called out once; then silence fell. The fighting had shifted closer to the house, pinging bullets skittering across the porch boards. Fiddlesticks. The timing couldn't be worse but they must make the attempt to remove everyone to a safer place.
"Walter?" Evelyn clutched little Jim in her arms, staring out the window from the bottom step where she'd stopped.
Samantha moved to stand with the new mother, an arm encircling her shoulders in a comforting embrace. Emily gripped her hands together, her body trembling from the confrontation beyond the walls of the large house. Suddenly the gunfire stopped, eerie quiet settling around them. Amy strained to hear voices or scuffling, but nothing. Then horses hooves and carriage wheels sounded from outside the door.
Amy released her breath and looked at each woman in turn. "Ready?"
Widened eyes and grim faces stared back at her as they bobbed their heads once.
Slowly opening the door, Amy peeked around it. Paul climbed down from a larger, well-appointed four-person carriage that reflected Walter's former status as a successful merchant. "Now."
Evelyn clutched her child against her, her eyes worried as she faced Amy. "Where are we going? What of my husband and the others?"
"They are providing the diversion so you can escape." Amy prayed her guess at the silence proved accurate. She gazed at the concerned faces regarding her. "You must go to town, where the British soldiers still rule and there's some measure of order. You'll be safer there."
"How will they know where we are?" Emily fumbled with tying her bonnet strings. "That we're safe?"
Amy flattened her lips in a line. "Do not worry about that now. Let's go." She didn't dare risk them staying another minute.
The group eased outside, where the sounds of shots and grunts no longer filled the air. They dashed to the carriage. Evelyn stumbled, and Emily caught her arm, preventing a nasty spill by both mother and child. Samantha limped along as fast as she could, but to Amy she seemed to move with the speed of a tortoise. Amy took Jim from Evelyn as she prepared to step into the carriage. Paul helped Evelyn and then Emily into the carriage, then turned to wait for Samantha.
"Samantha, you must hurry!" Amy called, patting Jim on the back as her gaze swept the yard for any sign of the renegades or Walter. Or Ben. Where was Ben?
With a grunt, Samantha picked up her pace, finally reaching the carriage and its relative safety. Samantha struggled to climb into the carriage behind Evelyn, biting back a cry of pain when she lifted her injured leg with both hands to force her foot to the narrow metal step and then hoist herself up. Emily held on to her as she slowly climbed the couple of steps and took her seat. Paul resumed his place and picked up the reins. The nervous horses jostled the harness, setting the metal rings jingling and jangling as they pranced.
"You ain't goin' nowhere."
Amy clasped Jim to her chest, startled by the cruel voice sparking fear in her heart. The harsh, guttural voice could only belong to one person. Peter.
"Ladies, get ready." Amy pivoted and held the baby up. "Here, Evelyn, take Jim."
Evelyn's fear radiated from her as she reached out and took the baby. Samantha settled more securely on her seat, grabbing the side rail so tight her knuckles shone white. Emily hunched over and made her way to sit beside Samantha. Paul tightened his grip on the reins.
Amy faced the sweaty man who had brutalized her. Seeing Peter's stubbly jaw and yellow teeth and then recalling his mouth on hers caused the back of her throat to burn, the bite and tang forcing her to swallow. The motion broke the tension that had driven ice into her muscles, enabling her to move. To think. To give the others time to flee. And mainly to speak.
What would he want to hear? "I knew you'd come for me to claim your vengeance."
The pistol he aimed at her never wavered as he strode toward her. He swaggered across the circular drive, teeth bared in a hostile smile. He drew closer, his stench reaching her long before he could touch her. He cocked the pistol and pointed it at her heart. "Damn right, little lady. You're too valuable to let get away. You and that stone about your neck. And you owe me a damn good time."
Maybe a kick in the shin or some other tender area would distract him enough to let the others escape. He loomed over her, disgusting and menacing. He would not touch her again. She would not allow it. She only needed to delay long enough to ensure the others could escape. She took two steps toward him, luring him to her, away from the others.
"Then you don't mind if the other ladies go on their way, right? This is between you and me, after all." The slight shift of the carriage behind her indicated they were ready, everyone in place and the team itching to run. Where was Ben?
Peter ran his tongue over his lower lip and swallowed greedily. "Can't have word getting out about what we've been up to, so they will have to stay, I'm afraid."
"No need for that, sir. I'm sure we can come to some understanding." She saw the light of lust flame in Peter's eyes at her words. Ben, where are you?
She cast a glance at the open door, praying he'd sense her fear and come help her. She'd been able to talk her way out of situations ever since she was a toddler. Unfortunately her storytelling capability fled as Peter's steps brought him nearer and nearer to where she stood her ground. His presence strangled her thoughts, silencing the creative flow of words. Silence filled her head instead of the stream of narrative usually at play there. Her throat became a desert as her mind vividly relived the terror he'd inflicted upon her the day before. A terror Ben's kisses and caresses had overlaid with love. She forced herself to breathe normally, to stay calm, even as he raised his free hand to grab hold of her.
The bone-shaking sound of a musket firing echoed across the open yard, startling the horses behind her. Peter's pistol flew into the air. He hollered and fell to the ground, blood pouring from the shot through his wrist. The urge to flee invaded her thoughts and forced her to react. Gagging from the bloody sight, she spotted Ben hurrying toward the grisly scene, but she could not stay this close to Peter for one more moment. Remembered terror at his hands prompted her to spin and clamber into the carriage.
"Go, Paul, go now!"
The carriage lurched forward in response to Paul's yelling at the horses. Amy looked back in time to see Peter slowly rise from his prone position, angling his body to shield his actions as he grabbed the dropped pistol with his one good hand. Wedging it in the crook of his injured arm, he worked the firing mechanism and shifted the weapon to aim. Ben maintained his pace, closing in on Peter, apparently not seeing the danger.
"Watch out!" The blast of the pistol silenced her warning.
Ben collapsed, dirt puffing into the air as his body thudded to a halt. Amy's blood chilled when he didn't move. She choked back her anguish. As much as she longed to escape, she couldn't leave him lying in the dirt injured and under threat of more attack. She must do something. It was up to her.
"Oh God, no!" She was already hiking her skirts so she could jump out of the moving carriage. "Stop, Paul!"
"What?" Paul slowed the horses with an effort, hauling back on the pairs of reins. "No, Miss Amy, don't!"
"Get out of here. I'll catch up." Amy leaped. When she managed to land on her feet, she thanked her lucky stars. She heard Paul yell at the horses, and the carriage rattled away. Ducking down, she ran to Ben's side. Kneeling beside him, she laid a tentative hand on his sleeve. "Ben?"
He stirred, and her heart filled with relief. He opened his eyes, focusing on her face. "The bastard shot me."
"I'll shoot you again, too." Peter slowly approached, the pistol aimed at them. "I want the wench, and you'll not stop me."
A muscle jumped in Ben's jaw as he sized up the man before them.
"You won't let him get me, will you, Ben?" She spied the musket lying beside him. If she could reach it, her marksmanship would turn the tide in their favor. She indicated with a nod to Ben her intent. He winked back and turned his attention to Peter, who stood over them with his gun aimed at Ben's heart.
"She's not yours," Ben said. "She's promised to me, and I'll not allow you to lay a hand on her."
While Ben distracted Peter, Amy used her foot to inch the musket butt toward her, finally slipping it beneath her splayed skirts while keeping an eye on the horrible man. Once again her long skirts came to her rescue, hiding the true nature of her actions and intent.
"Stand up and fight like a man," Peter growled. "I'll not shoot you while you lay there. Now up with ya. Both of ya."
Ben grunted as he pushed himself to his knees, then slowly stood. Blood oozed down his right side, staining his white shirt crimson.
"You can't have her, you bastard." Ben pressed one hand on his wound as he moved to stand between Amy and the dirty, bloody bastard.
"She's already mine." Peter leered at Amy. "Or didn't she tell ya what we shared together? She was feisty, I'll give her that."
Finally Amy reached the musket with her fingers along the hem of her dress. She closed her hand around the warm wooden stock and dragged it up beside her as she stood, careful to keep it hidden in the folds of fabric.
"Stay behind me, Amy," Ben said. "I said I'd protect you and I meant it."
"You done lost her already, friend." Peter sneered at Ben as he sniggered. He leveled the pistol at Benjamin. "After you're dead, I'll finish what I started with the slut, and she'll thank me for the rest of her life, not that she'll be alive much afterward."
Amy tasted bile but determined to end this nightmare once and for all. Silently she stepped from behind Benjamin. In one practiced, fluid movement, she raised the musket, aimed at Peter's black heart, and pulled the trigger. The deafening bang stunned her ears as the stock pounded into her shoulder, but she had braced for the backlash and held her aim, the shot true.
"You bitch..." Surprise turned to shock on the man's grimy face as he grabbed at the hole in his chest where his heart beat its last time. He reached out as though to grab at her but fell to the ground, never to move again.
A person shouldn't feel relief when they killed another person, she mused. She hoped he didn't have a wife and family somewhere waiting for him. Then again, maybe they'd be better off without him to bully and harass them. She should feel some kind of remorse, but honestly only satisfaction and relief washed over her like an incoming tide. No more would he scare and threaten anyone.
"You need medical attention right away. Are you able to ride?" Amy lowered the gun as she inspected Ben's face and body for additional wounds, love for him soaring into her heart and overwhelming her senses. She thanked God that this man, her man, survived the attack.
"Peter was the last of the renegades." A slow smile lit his face. "My amazing Amy." He kissed her lightly, a promise of more to come.
"Thank you for defending us all. But it's your turn to need help. I'll fetch Icarus, and we'll follow the ladies into town. Samantha can patch you up there."
Benjamin pressed a hand on his shirt where the blood darkened as it dried. "He only grazed me, thank goodness. I'll summon Dr. Cunningham when we get back to town. He's handled gunshots many times."
"You don't trust Samantha?" Amy took a deep breath to defend her friend but suddenly smelled wood smoke. She glanced over toward the house and saw a layer of smoke drifting by. "Oh my God, fire!"
Ben and Amy rushed to the open door, skidding to a stop when they saw the manor house licked by flames. Amy was glad everyone had escaped. Without a word they ran around the inferno to the back door, where Icarus pranced and tugged on his reins. His eyes showed their whites at the sight of the house fully engulfed, dark smoke rising into the pale blue sky.
"Where's Walter?" Amy asked breathlessly. "He was with you."
Benjamin shook his head. "No, he was fighting off one of the bastards who was trying to get in through the front door while I went after the other two men."
"Oh no. I remember he cried out then nothing." She searched the windows but couldn't see into the house. "What caused the fire? I don't understand."
"My guess is the kitchen fire ignited something or other, but we may never know with it burning so fast."
A loud pop inside was followed by a new burst of flames reaching through the wooden wall to sear the outside of the house. Behind them, the horse neighed and stamped.
She handed Ben the musket and went to calm the nervous stallion. "I need to take Icarus away from here before he hurts himself."
"I'll see if I can find Walter." Ben raced out of sight around the side of the house.
She spoke soothingly to the horse, calming him with her voice as she'd done all his life. Finally he allowed her to stroke him and untie his reins from the hitching post, though he continued to jig on the end of the reins as she led him away from the inferno. Once far enough away that he calmed, she lithely mounted, tucking her skirts under her legs as she settled in the saddle. She rode around to the front of the house and stopped a good distance away, out of range of the fierce heat of the nightmare vision coming true before her eyes. Only the forest wasn't reclaiming the house by sucking it into the woods. Fire danced and leaped from every window. She shuddered at the rapid demolition of the stately yet foreboding mansion. Suddenly she saw Walter's body lying to one side of the Pegasus statue, half-hidden in the bushes surrounding the winged horse.
"Ben!" Amy urged Icarus closer, but the stallion's instinctive reaction to the blaze overrode her encouragement, and he refused to move nearer to the heat and flame, backing and whirling in response to his primal fear.
Ben ran around to the front of the house, halting when he saw the spinning stallion and Amy's attempts to control the horse. "Amy?"
"By the statue, hurry!" Amy stopped trying to move closer to the house and allowed Icarus to halt, trembling, as they waited for the verdict on Walter's condition.
Ben looked at the base of the marble horse and then strode to the fallen man. Laying a hand on the huge man's heart, he paused, then gazed at Amy and shook his head. "He's been shot."
"He's dead?" A mix of sadness for the man and relief for her sister settled on her heart. Then another more urgent concern overshadowed her grief.
What would she tell Evelyn?
Chapter 14
The soft quiet of the late November evening wrapped itself around Amy where she sat in the gazebo in the McAlesters' garden. Beyond, the garden had been transformed into a fairyland of candlelight and tables laden with a bountiful repast to celebrate the harvest as much as the pending withdrawal of British troops. A string quartet played softly in the background. Guests mingled, their laughter and murmured conversation creating a comforting buzz. Fading fingers of sunlight reached across the expanse amid the variety of low plants and bushes. The familiar sense of comfort flowed through her, a feeling of calm exuded by this garden that provided Samantha's healing simples as well as a visual medley of color each spring and summer.
The peace surrounding her conflicted with her inner turmoil. The horror of Walter's death echoed in her mind, her imagination filling in gruesome details of his last minutes fighting and losing. Evelyn believed her tale of Walter's heroism, comforted in some small measure by his last act to defend their home. She tried not to dwell on the pain he suffered from the shot through his heart as well as the shot through his stomach. At least he did not live to see his home reduced to ashes, apparently by the reckless addition of a
kitchen in the main house. That sight would have torn him apart.
After burying him, Ben had mounted Icarus behind Amy and they hurried back to town. Evelyn had collapsed at the news and had yet to emerge from the darkened room upstairs where she grieved with little Jim at her side. Amy shuddered when she recalled her previous wish that Walter would be removed from Evelyn's life. She'd never meant for him to die. So much had gone wrong lately that she resisted wishing or dreaming for anything else to change. Fortunately they had made it safely back to town, where her parents and friends would look out for them all.
She hugged herself as she surveyed the beautiful gardens flanking the aged gazebo. She and Emily had enjoyed high tea with Samantha countless times in this very spot with its whitewashed walls and dark, pointed ceiling. Happy memories flooded her thoughts, banishing the recent tragedy. Buttered scones, biscuits, and cake slices all had been consumed amid laughter and dreams shared within the gazebo. Samantha's many blends of tea from her own garden had flavored those memorable conversations as well.
The crunch of shoes on the shell path alerted Amy to the presence of someone else seeking the tranquility of the garden. She smoothed her skirt with damp hands, praying Ben was the one seeking her out.
Ben stepped up into the gazebo. He braced one hand on a trellis supporting the dormant vines of the climbing roses that would bloom in spring. "I had hoped you'd be here. It's a nice night to be outside."
His blue eyes hid in shadow, but his gaze weighed on her. Strength and confidence emanated from his broad shoulders and square jaw. She imagined his dimples deepening when he smiled.
She loved him. All of him. She rose, her eyes leveled on his mouth, a strong yet tender pair of lips that sparked intense emotion inside her at their merest brush of her own.
"Does Evelyn need me?" Her voice emerged sounding breathless, and she swallowed to moisten her suddenly dry throat.
His gaze rested on her mouth before moving to meet her eyes. He took her hands in his, clasping them lightly at his chest. "No, she's resting comfortably. I need you, though."
