climbing through carefully, she studied the dark field. Where was the most logical position for a well? She swung the light from left to right but couldn't see any possibilities close. But in the distance she could see the dark outline of several buildings. The old farmhouse, maybe? It was as good a place as any to look for a well.
It took five minutes of tramping through the overgrown field to reach the outbuildings. To the right of what looked to have been a barn was an odd-shaped mound of stone. Her heart leapt, and she ran towards it. Please, please, let this be it…
She slid to a stop and leaned over the uneven wall. The knobby edges of the stone dug into her stomach as she directed the flashlight into the well. Deep down in the darkness, gold flickered.
'Jon?' She waited anxiously for an answer, but nothing came. Maybe he was unconscious. 'Jon!'
This time something stirred. She leaned over the edge a little more, desperate to catch any noise.
'Jon!' Her voice echoed. After a moment, she heard a soft groan. He was down there all right, but he had to be awake if she was going to help him. She couldn't get him out of the well on her own. 'Answer me, damn it!'
'Madeline?' His soft question was harsh with disbelief.
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she blinked them away quickly. Crying wouldn't help anyone. It certainly wouldn't help him out of the well. 'I'm here. I've got some rope in the truck. I'll go get it, but you have to stay awake, okay?'
He grunted or groaned in reply—she wasn't sure which. She ran back across the field, the flashlight weaving uneasy patterns through the darkness ahead. She hesitated when she reached the fence. Was there a gate somewhere, or would she have to cut the wire? The light reflected oddly on something to her right—someone had looped the wire loosely around a pole. Once undone, the gap would be wide enough to drive the truck through.
She quickly undid the wire. The last strand snapped away from her grasp, tearing at her fingertips and palm. She swore and shook the blood away as she ran back to the truck.
Maybe it sensed her urgency, because the engine roared to life the second she turned the key. She reversed out of the clearing and drove down the road until she saw the gap in the fence. Changing gears, she headed into the field, the truck bumping and lurching over the rough ground.
She stopped near the well. Leaving the headlights on and the engine idling, she scrambled out and ran back to the well.
'Jon?' she called, leaning over the edge again. Stone shifted underneath her, and several rocks fell down into the darkness. Water splashed.
'Here,' he called, his voice stronger than before. 'Stop throwing things at me.'
She smiled, and yet his comment made her uneasy. What sort of man made jokes in a situation like this?
A man who was used to being in dangerous situations, that's who. Just how wise was it to get involved with this man? While she had no doubt she'd need his help, she knew nothing about him. Not even if she could trust him.
'Still with me, Madeline?'
There was a hint of tension in his voice, as if he'd sensed her sudden doubts. She nodded, then remembered he couldn't see her. 'Yes. If I throw a rope down, will you be able to tie it around you?'
'Yes.'
She ran back to the truck and hauled the rope out of the box in the back. She wasted several minutes trying to secure one end of the rope to the front of the truck, then ran back to the well.
'I'm lowering the rope.' She fed the hemp into the well, but her gaze was drawn to the dark outline of the old homestead. Had something moved, or was it just a trick of the light?
'Got it,' Jon said.
The sudden sound of his voice made her start. 'Tell me when you're ready, and I'll reverse the truck to haul you up.' She watched the rope dance around and wished he'd hurry. The feeling that someone was watching them was growing—or was it simply a case of bad nerves?
'Ready.'
She climbed into the truck and shifted into reverse, grinding the gears in her haste. Wincing, she slowly backed up. The need to hurry, to get out of this area as fast as she could, was growing. She bit her lip, trying to ignore it. It didn't matter what was out there watching them. She had to get Jon out of this well.
And if she backed up too quickly, she might just kill him.
When the top part of his body was visible, she pulled on the hand brake and climbed out.
'Not a trip I'd recommend,' he gasped, looking up at her as she approached.
He was a mess. Sweat beaded his forehead, and his face was white with pain. His whole body was trembling, even though he was doing little more than simply hanging on to the edge of the well. She grabbed his right leg, helping him over. He fell, more than rolled, to the ground.
'We have to get out of here.' She knelt beside him and undid the rope. He was so cold his fingers were almost blue. She undid her jacket and placed it around his shoulders.
He gave her a wan smile of thanks. 'You have to… to do something first.' He closed his eyes and leaned back against the well.
'What?' she asked, rubbing her arms as the wind whipped around her.
'Remove the shaft from my arm.'
She'd seen the wound as she'd helped him over the edge of the well, and that was about as close as she wanted to get. His whole arm had swollen, and the handkerchief he'd wrapped around the wound was a bloody mess. She'd risk causing more damage if she tried to do anything other than getting him to a doctor. 'No. I can't.'
He grabbed her wrist when she tried to rise. 'Madeline, you have to take it out. I can't last much longer.'
There was something more than urgency in his voice. She fought the instinct to pull away from his touch and wrapped her fingers around his instead, offering him the warmth of her hand. Warily, she met his gaze. In the blue depths of his eyes she saw a hint of desperation—and a pain that went far deeper than anything she'd ever faced.
She tore her gaze away and shone the light towards the farmhouse again. Though she'd seen no movement nor heard any unusual sound, something was out there watching them. They had to get out of this area quickly. She glanced back at Jon and felt something tremble inside.
'I don't think we're safe.' She hesitated, her gaze drawn back to the shadows. 'I'll remove the damn thing if you want, but I won't do it here.'
Jon bit back the urge to swear and nodded, reluctantly releasing her hand. What she said was true enough. While he couldn't hear anyone in the immediate area, he knew someone was bound to see the headlights sooner or later and investigate. Better they left before anyone got too curious.
He just had to hope moving around didn't drive the shaft and its deadly splinters too much deeper or he'd be in real trouble.
Maddie put her shoulder under his, lending him her strength as he tried to rise. His foot slipped out from underneath him, and he dropped heavily. She cursed, her breath warm against his ear as she went down with him. The shattered end of the arrow scraped against rock, and he bit back a groan. Heat flashed through his body. He gulped down air, fighting the rush of dizziness.
She had to take the arrow out. The white ash shaft was killing him.
'I'm sorry,' she whispered, her voice full of concern and a slight edge of panic.
'Not your fault.' He opened his eyes, desperate to find something, anything, to distract him from the pain.
Her face was close to his, and in the harshness of the headlights, her hair seemed afire. She wasn't what he'd expected. Smaller and slimmer than she'd first appeared, she surrounded him with the rich scent of roses. And fear. He couldn't tell if she was more afraid of the situation or of him.
'We have to get moving,' she said softly. Her fingers twitched against his shoulder, her touch light yet warm.
He followed the direction of her gaze. Something stirred in the shadows, a whisper of movement
