Love's Awakening (The Ballantyne Legacy Book #2): A Novel (15 page)

 15 

More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.

A
LFRED
L
ORD
T
ENNYSON

Long after the music had faded, Ellie lay awake, listening to the house settle, trying not to think of jail and the strange matter of bail. ’Twas all too easy to ponder River Hill instead and wonder whether Chloe was abed, or whether Jack . . . Stifling the thought, she turned on her side, the linen pillow slip smooth against her heated cheek. Old houses seemed to have noises that only came alive at night. Though she didn’t believe in ghosts, she felt River Hill and New Hope a fine haven for them, full of dusty memories from another century.

At midnight the Edinburgh-made clock in the foyer far below struck a resounding twelve notes like little chimes. Ellie felt a ripple of unrest at another sound. Approaching horses. Her heart seized. Bounty hunters?

Lord, protect us, please
 . . .

Mina slept alongside her, her breathing deep and even. Tonight Ansel wasn’t home to throw open the door, rifle in
hand, Andra in his wake. Just two helpless women. Getting up, she reached for her dressing gown and felt her way to the door, dredging up Scripture to keep her knees from knocking.
The Lord is my rock, my fortress
. . .

A key clicked in a lock. The front door swung wide as she peered into the foyer below.

Peyton looked up at her, bewhiskered and red-eyed, Ansel silent and serious behind him. She hovered on the top step, wondering what Andra would do in such a moment. Lambast Peyton, most likely. She felt a rush of gratitude her parents couldn’t see their firstborn so . . . undone.

Hurrying down the stairs, she read a question in Peyton’s eyes. Unable to bear that querying look, she did what her heart bid and slipped her arms around him in an awkward embrace. He stiffened, unused to her touch, clearly uncomfortable with any display of affection. Or far too inebriated to appreciate it.

Ansel’s frown deepened as Peyton pulled away and moved past them, treading up the stairs like lead lined his shoes, gripping the balustrade to stay his swaying.

“It’s all right, Ellie.” Ansel’s words held wry exasperation. “His pride is damaged. But he’s got plenty left.”

“What happened?”

“The sheriff told of a bet, a brawl. Someone insulted Wade and a duel was threatened. The men’s club is a bit of a wreck as a result. Damages will have to be paid.”

“Was Wade’s brother involved?”

He looked at her, surprise sketched across his features. “Gentleman Jack? Why do you ask?”

“I . . . I’ve been . . .”A small thread of hope tightened round her heart. “I’ve been praying for him.”

“About his drinking and carousing, you mean?”

She nodded. “Da used to visit him in jail. He even gave him a Bible.”

“Jack? And he kept it? Didn’t pitch it in the river or gamble it away?” He looked bemused at the thought. “I wonder how many of those Bibles that Da’s given out are ever used?”

Ansel was studying her, and a wave of guilt swamped any high feeling. He didn’t know she went to River Hill. No one knew but Mamie and the stable hands. What would Ansel say? Keeping it secret seemed devious, but she wasn’t comfortable sharing it . . . yet.

She changed course. “Your sweetheart is above stairs.”

He nodded absently as if he’d forgotten. “And Adam and Ulie?”

“I took supper up to them. They’re ready to leave with Dr. Brunot when it’s safe.”

His face clouded. “I’d meant to send word to Brunot tonight. But there’s still some sign of bloodhounds and slave catchers along the far shore.”

Hearing it, she felt small and overwhelmed. “I’ll feel better when Da is back—and Mama.”

“They’ll soon walk through that door to find you here—and Andra gone.” He released a pent-up breath. “I wonder what Da will have to say about that.”

Ellie was more worried about Mama’s reaction, especially where Andra was concerned. She had more to pray about than Jack and Chloe Turlock, truly.

Dr. Brunot came the next eve, pulling the carriage known as a liberator into the lantern-lit stable at nearly midnight. Adam and Ulie were waiting, knapsacks brimming with food and clothing to see them north. Ansel had taken care to fit them with new shoes, and Ellie wondered how many miles they would go to find freedom. The Quaker settlements were close, but Canada seemed a world away.

Handing Adam a Bible, Ellie was touched by the sheen in his eyes. He couldn’t yet speak, but he’d begun to read, and his appreciation was unmistakable. Ellie hugged Ulie and the baby as Brunot opened the trap door in the false bottom of the carriage. Surely a more cramped, uncomfortable ride couldn’t be found. Ellie felt an overwhelming need to know they’d be safe, that the next haven would indeed be welcoming, but the night held few guarantees.

Removing his hat, Brunot bowed his head and offered up one of the most heartfelt prayers Ellie had ever heard. When the coach clattered away into the night, Ansel lingered in the stables while Ellie returned to the house.

She lay awake in her bedchamber long after the coach had departed, but the sound of its wheels atop the drive didn’t seem to fade. She would never forget the cruelty of Adam’s injuries. Or all that Ulie had suffered at the hands of the Turlocks’ overseer. While her heart was too full for sleeping, the attic was all too empty.

Mamie served strawberry ice for breakfast the next morning as the sun poked fierce spokes across New Hope’s grounds, banishing the dew by seven o’clock. “Summer is here,” she crowed in satisfaction, standing amidst her kitchen garden. Old Jacob had been working night and day to restore the physic and formal gardens to their former glory, while Mamie labored over her own humble patch. “Look at these herbs already flowerin’. Glad we took two tons of ice from the river last winter, or this heat would curdle all my cream.”

’Twas the end of June. Ellie felt time slipping through her fingers like river sand. She went about her morning duties as if driven, thoughts on River Hill and afternoon lessons. A wheel was being repaired on the coach, denying her the usual
transport, so she asked a groom to ready the two-wheeled chaise. Peyton, fully recovered from the debacle with Wade yet tight-lipped about the lapse, had left for the levee at dawn with Ansel. Only Mamie eyed her with concern as Ellie placed her bundle of flower seeds and sewing basket beneath the seat, the pearl-handled pistol hidden within.

Mamie gestured to the rear platform where a groom usually perched. “Where’s your escort?”

Ellie stepped up into the vehicle and smiled in reassurance. “The stables are busy today. Two of Da’s prize mares are foaling and the coach is being repaired.” She sat atop the upholstered seat and arranged her skirts, glad the chaise’s leather bonnet half hid her from Mamie’s probing gaze. “I’ll take the back road. ’Tis quicker that way.” Feeling a twinge of conscience, she confessed, “I wouldn’t want to miss lessons with Chloe Turlock.”

“Well, you look like a fine lady even if you be bound for Hades itself.”

“Oh, Mamie, you should see it. Next to New Hope, River Hill is the most wondrous place in all of Allegheny County.” She took up the reins—ribbons, the grooms called them—unable to contain her delight at riding out on so beautiful a day. “I’ll be home by suppertime.”

Round the stables she went and out a side lane, birdsong bursting all around her. A warm wind tugged at the chin ribbons of her straw hat, and she slowed the horse to a walk, wanting to savor every minute. All dark thoughts seemed to take wing on such a sunny afternoon.

She’d not taken the back road for years. In the early days it had been little more than an Indian trail north, bordered by giant hardwoods and abundant berry vines. Seldom used, it seemed safer than the main thoroughfares. Her brothers needn’t worry, nor Mamie.

Reaching down, she felt beneath the seat for her basket, her anticipation of planting a garden making the miles fade to mere inches. Chloe’s enthusiasm had surprised her—the prospect of digging in the dirt garnered as much interest as fishing. Contrary to what she’d expected, Chloe threw herself wholeheartedly into anything Ellie suggested. Even Jack seemed surprised.

Her pulse quickened as River Hill’s gate loomed in the distance. How different than the dread she’d felt at first, when she’d gone to honor Chloe’s request and Jack had turned her away. Unconventional, unpredictable Jack. She flicked the ribbons harder as if to outrun any further thought of him, sliding slightly on the seat as she took a bend in the road too quickly.

Here the trees grew so close the way was dark as a tunnel. Shadows loomed everywhere she looked. Her gaze fixed on a break in the trees just ahead where light again limned the road. The bay was acting strangely skittish, slowing down slightly, ears flickering nervously. Ellie ignored the shiver of fear that skimmed over her till the chaise shuddered to a sudden halt . . .

Before a wall of men.

Bullwhips, ropes, and handcuffs were lashed to half a dozen saddles, the horses restless, the dust roiling. She blinked against the grit of gray, and the reins grew slack in her gloved hands.

If ill will could be felt, she felt it—a cold malevolence like icy fingers on warm skin.

Three men were on horses, three on foot. All were masked. In seconds a hard hand clutched her arm, propelling her out of her seat. She heard the jarring tear of fabric as it caught on some trappings. Her skirt? The men circled round, tightening like a noose. Though her eyes were everywhere at once, her breath came in short, desperate bursts, her voice not at all.

“Well, Miss Ballantyne, I’ve a mind to hold you for ransom. But since your pa ain’t here to pay, we’re after other things.”

She stood, limbs like wax, as the vehicle was searched, her sewing basket flung open, seeds scattered, the pistol confiscated. A sudden slashing sent her shaking. Were they knifing the bonnet of the carriage to ribbons? The poor bay was straining against the harness, clearly as terrified as she.

“Stop!” The word burst out of her but was drowned out by their laughter as they held up a dainty handkerchief meant for Chloe.

Another man drew near, dwarfing her with his largeness. “Let me have a look.”

The dark eyes slanting down at her were full of some darkness she couldn’t name. With one deft move he jerked her hat free and sent it into a ditch before taking her roughly by the chin.