From This Day Forward (25 page)

Which way should I go?
She studied the wall of green surrounding her and saw a trampled patch. She headed that way. Again a bellow echoed through the trees.
An alligator, not a beast I want to encounter
.

She began reciting Psalm 23, the words giving her the courage she needed.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me
.

Diving through thick bushes that clawed at her wet clothes, Rachel listened. Voices up ahead? As she drew closer, she discerned a man’s voice and Ben’s. Nearing them, she crept forward, her pulse speeding, her breath coming in shallow gasps. When she peeked through the dense foliage, she spied a wiry, medium-built man gripping the back of Ben’s shirt as he held the boy up in front of him.

“Where is it?”

Ben’s eyes were so large they overwhelmed his face.

“If’n you don’t tell, I will snatch your sister and wring her neck in front of you.”

Ben opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out, as though fear had robbed him of his voice. Rachel knew that kind of fear from when Tom had gone into his drunken rages.

She prepared the flintlock to shoot, ramming the ball and wad into the barrel and priming the pin. Then inhaling a fortifying breath, Rachel parted the branches and stepped out into the glade in the middle of nowhere—at least that was the way it seemed to her. She raised her pistol and shouted in the toughest voice she could muster, “Let him go. Now.” It was a shame it came out in a squeak barely heard across the feet separating her and the pair.

“What are you goin’ t’ do if’n I don’t?” The man tossed Ben to the ground and stalked toward her. “I seen you shootin’. You cain’t hit the side o’ the barn.”

With each word he came a step closer. The sight of his fierce expression, his dark eyes boring into her, seized her breaths and locked them away. The tremors in her body increased and she backed up, her hand shaking so badly she was afraid she would drop the gun.

“I shall use this if I have to.” This time her voice toughened to a steel thread.

He laughed and kept coming toward her.

Her lungs burning, she pulled the trigger.

“You need to take care of Mr. Baker,” Patrick said.

“But what about Rachel? I cannot let anything happen to her.” Nathan swiveled his attention from the swamp toward where Mr. Baker was.
What should I do, Lord?

“John and I can find Rachel. Go.”

I promised her I would look after her until she was settled. I cannot—I took an oath to help anyone in need when I could. How can I turn my back on that?
Nathan nodded. “I am going to Mr. Baker. Get Ben and Rachel out of there. Take Jasper.”

John called his dog then both men headed into the bog near the large live oak while Nathan jogged to the house, got medicines and supplies, then hastened to the path between George Baker’s and Dalton Farm.

Nathan glimpsed George on the ground with Maddy next to him, pressing a cloth into his shoulder, her gown covered in the man’s blood. As he approached the pair several hundred feet away, a gunshot reverberated through the air.

Nathan came to a halt. Rachel! No! He peered behind him. A knot lodged in his throat.
What if she is shot? What if I have lost her?

“Dr. Stuart, hurry. He needs you,” Maddy shouted, prodding Nathan into action.

He had to do what he could for George.
Lord, Rachel is in Your hands. Please protect her.

The flintlock pistol went off, momentarily stopping the kidnapper in his tracks, as the shot struck a tree to the left—a wide left from the man. Surprise flitted across his face, immediately to be replaced with fury. He charged Rachel, covering the few remaining feet quickly.

His hands gripped her upper arms, the pistol falling from her nerveless fingers. “A big mistake.”

No words came to mind as Rachel stared into the pockmarked face with the deadliest eyes she had ever seen. Suddenly Ben launched himself at the kidnapper and clung to his back, his hands digging into the man’s face. A finger found an eye and the man howled with rage. His grasp on Rachel loosened. She jerked free then flew at him while Ben rode his back. She scratched and kicked him wherever she could.

Finally the kidnapper shook Ben off him, the child landing in a heap at their feet. Rachel glanced at the boy to make sure he was all right, then brought her fist back and swung it at the man’s stomach. He doubled over.

Ben struggled to his feet and jumped on his back again while Rachel’s booted foot connected with the man’s shin. A guttural groan echoed through the glade, followed by barking and Jasper loping out of the thick vegetation, straight at the kidnapper. The wolfhound latched onto the man’s arm, sending him to the ground.

“Git him off,” the kidnapper yelled.

John appeared with Patrick next to him. John whistled, and Jasper released the man’s arm and backed away a few feet, growling, his whole body alert.

Rachel rushed to Ben and hugged the boy to her. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

He pressed himself against her for a moment. “I am all right.” Then he moved away, darting his glance to John and Patrick.

John yanked the kidnapper to his feet. “You have some explaining to do before we take you to the constable.”

Patrick positioned himself within inches of the man. “Starting with why you took the boy?”

Hours later, Rachel sat in the chair before the fireplace, staring at the blaze, seeing the orange and yellow flames dancing about the logs as though they were drawing her toward them. Numbness still clung to her body, briefly overriding the deep ache from the bruises and cuts of her encounter with the kidnapper—still nameless because the man refused to say a word, even when Patrick and John threatened bodily harm. She was never so glad to see a person leave as that man, escorted to Charleston by the two men.

Rachel finally tore her gaze away from the fire and scanned the main room for Ben, who had planted himself on the staircase to the loft and not moved in hours. A war of emotions had played across his face since his rescue, with a pensive look finally settling into place.

A niggling in the back of her mind grew, demanding her attention. Ben knew the man. She had seen it on both of their faces before she had spoken in the glade. So why hadn’t the child told them who the kidnapper was? Ben had said few words, other than he had been leaving the barn when the man grabbed him. He insisted he did not know why.

Nathan and Maddy left the second bedchamber. The expression on their faces offered Rachel hope that Mr. Baker would make it. She rose. “Is he still doing all right?”

“He is hanging on. I removed the ball, so now we have to pray no infection sets in.” Nathan walked to a bowl and poured water into it to wash his hands.

“It will not if I have anything to do about it,” Maddy said and then used the liquid in the pitcher to rinse the blood from her own hands.

Maddy hadn’t left Mr. Baker’s side from the beginning. She had insisted on helping Nathan any way she could while Rachel was left to deal with the children and seeing John and Patrick off with the kidnapper in tow and Jasper trotting next to them. Emma had finally fallen asleep on Rachel’s bed about an hour ago, with Faith in the cradle next to her.

“Mr. Baker ain’t goin’ t’ die, is he?” Ben asked in the quiet that had descended.

“Don’t know yet. Time will tell,” Nathan said in a serious tone.

“I heard him yell.” Ben’s eyes swam with tears.

“It hurts to remove a ball. But he is sleeping now.” Nathan rose. “I am going to check the barn and animals. I noticed the pig had her babies in the middle of all this commotion.”

“Oh, I forgot about that.” Rachel moved toward the food. “Maddy, you sit with Mr. Baker. I shall take care of preparing something for supper. Tomorrow I think we should make a soup. Mr. Baker may want something to eat by then.” She doubted he would wake before morning. His body had been through a trauma and still had a long battle ahead.

At the door, Nathan glanced at Ben. “Come help me. You can bring back any eggs we collect.”

Ben trudged toward Nathan. “I am going to miss Jasper. Liberty probably is lonely out there by hisself. Can I sleep in the barn too?”

Nathan stepped outside. “I think it would be better to let Liberty sleep up at the house. We need to teach him how to be a guard dog.”

“Can he sleep in the loft with me?”

With the door closing behind Ben, Rachel did not hear Nathan’s reply, but she suspected the dog would be in the loft with Ben tonight. She would not be surprised if they became inseparable. Ben needed something like that, because he still had not fully accepted her and Nathan or trusted them.
What is he keeping from us?

Emma appeared in the entrance of Rachel’s bedchamber, rubbing her eyes. “Where is Ben?”

“He went to the barn with Nathan. How do you feel?”

“Scared.”

Rachel spanned the distance between them and drew Emma toward the staircase, where Rachel sat so they were on the same eye level. “Why, honey? The bad man is gone. You saw him leave with Mr. McNeal and Mr. Stuart for Charleston. He will not be bothering Ben or you again.”

“Promise?”

“Yes. He is in serious trouble and will spend a long time in jail.”

“Very bad man.”

“Do you know him?”

Emma dropped her head and didn’t say anything for a long moment. “He took my brother. He killed my pa.”

“He did? Did you see it?”

The child looked up at Rachel. “No, Ben tolded me.”

“When?”

“After y’all came back from the swamp.”

“How did he know?”

Emma shrugged. “The man tolded him?”

“That was probably it
.” Or was it?
“I could use some help. I hear Faith making noises. Can you play with her while I fix supper?”

The girl’s eyes brightened with the first smile Rachel had seen in hours from her. “Yes.”

As Emma went into the bedchamber to pick up Faith from the cradle, Rachel remained seated on the stairs, watching the girl hold her daughter and hug her, whispering words to her that Rachel could not hear. Her heart swelled at the sight. The constable had told Nathan if no relatives could be found she could keep Ben and Emma. She wanted that. They needed someone to love them and care for them. She had a feeling there had been little of that in their lives.