Blossom’s nearly unfocused eyes looked up at her each time Lilah changed the baby. She seemed to watch her new mother when Lilah sang to her as she rocked Blossom to sleep or crooned sweet words while bathing the child with a warm washcloth. Myra felt sure Blossom was less than a week old and still too small for a tub bath.
Lilah just knew she and her claimed daughter were off to a great start. Tiptoeing past the basket where Blossom slept, she couldn’t resist a glance and held the candle high to see the perfectly formed miracle.
Yes, they were off to a great start, with Myra’s help. Lilah wished that she could say the same thing about her marriage.
Moving with care out the door of the first-floor bedroom, she mulled over the memory of her wedding that day. Fred claimed to need her and that was a far cry from loving her. Even if Myra later told her, “German men don’t need anyone. At least, not often. Fred’s admitting he needs you was quite a declaration.”
Wanting to groan at the memory of his sweet, tender peck on her lips, she worked to stay silent. She didn’t want to wake the house, after all. Myra had finished feeding Blossom within the last half-hour and needed to sleep.
Turning the key left in the backdoor, Lilah stepped out onto the porch that served as a mudroom for the family. Lifting her coat from the hook attached to the back wall of the house, she slipped her arms into its cold fabric and shivered. She might have done better to race out into the cold wearing only Myra’s flannel nightgown. The others in this house must bring their coats inside to warm up before wearing them each day.
Careful not to let the screen door slap against the doorframe, Lilah moved out into the moonless early morning. Her small candle’s light barely penetrated the inkiness surrounding her. Focusing on only the few inches ahead of her, Lilah watched the ground so she wouldn’t stumble over a rock or clump of raised earth. The short walk took longer than she expected. By the time she reached the small building, Lilah all but danced from one leg to the other with her need.
Even so, she held the candle high inside the outhouse to check for bats or spiders. Satisfied, she made ready to sit down and realized she couldn’t hold the candle and lift her nightgown at the same time. A peg protruded from the wall where a person could rest a lantern. No candleholder sat in the building.
Unhappily, Lilah blew out the candle and laid it beside her. In the smelly darkness, she took care of her pressing need. Finished, she picked up the useless candle and opened the door to the blackness. Funny, she’d just walked safely to the privy, but that walk took on an eerie foreboding without her candle.
“There’s not a thing to be afraid of in the dark.” She reminded herself that the time right before dawn always was the darkest. It was why the inky black seemed to cling to her.
The quiet words sounded like a shout in the absolute quiet of the early morning. A woof from the farm dog answered her. Then it started barking and growling.
A sudden yip and whining alarmed Lilah. Rather than heading for the safety of the dark house, she moved in the direction of the poor animal.
In the murky gloom, she couldn’t see the dog and moved forward slowly toward the small cries it gave off. Something had hurt it.
Or someone! What was she doing? Suddenly, she realized the danger and knew she needed to get back to the house. It was like the Holy Spirit urged her to move. Holder would check on the dog, once she woke him. He could come out with a lantern and a shotgun.
Whirling, she forgot her unbuttoned boots as she raced toward safety. Did she imagine it or had she heard the raspy breathing of someone running after her?
A boot flew off her lifted foot as she sprinted to the porch and went behind her. In the quiet, a gasp of pain alerted her. There was another person in the darkness with her.
Then hands grabbed her flapping braid, jerking her painfully to a halt. Wordless, bruising hands gripped her upper arms. Did the person have two sets of hands? Somehow, she was gripped while being gagged and then blindfolded. Two or three people. She couldn’t be sure since they blindfolded her so quickly and no one spoke.
Without a word from her captors, Lilah felt herself being wrapped with ropes before they lifted her. Anticipating the hard feel of a wagon box under her, she was startled to touch her cheek against leather as her kidnappers lowered her into a tight space.
A buggy. That’s where she must be. Kidnapped again. What were the chances of that happening?
Somewhere in the darkness, a window lifted. She heard the scrape of the wood before Holder’s voice bellowed angrily.
“What are you doing down there?”
A curse exploded near her and the buggy rocked with the sudden weight of new passengers. Leather snapped in the air and the buggy rolled forward with a quick jerk from the horses pulling its weight.
The faint sound of the backdoor being thrown open let her know they were already leaving the house behind. The house and her safety.
Fred shook his head at Banker Strong’s blustering. It was way too early in the morning for such mudslinging. Of course, no time was great for his kind of attack.
During this rally, each time the man pointed a finger
