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Authors: Mary Connealy

BOOK: Out of Control
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Glaring at him, she seemed to gauge her chances of winning a fight. She must've gauged it right, because she folded without any more bickering. “Fine. Let's go back. I've said to God what I needed to say. Any answers will be between Him and my father, anyway.”

Rafe reached out, and after a moment's hesitation, she slipped her hand into his.

“When are you going to take me back down into the cavern, Rafe? You promised. Don't even pretend I'm going to forget.” They walked back together.

“Soon, Julia. Now's not the time.”

“Why not?” She tugged on his hand, not to be free but to draw his attention. Well, he didn't mind looking at her one bit. “We could get away for an hour or two, you know that. Leave Ethan with Audra and the baby. Ethan could promise to check on us after a while in case something happened to the ladder.”

“We'll see. Maybe we can do it tomorrow. Now quit asking me questions. I thought you wanted quiet.” Rafe looked back over his shoulder and wished he could be sure it was just an overactive imagination that had drawn his attention to those rocks.

“I wanted to be
alone
. That's different.” She turned her cute little nose up as if to prove to him she wouldn't say another word.

He seriously doubted she could sustain that.

She seemed determined to pretend he didn't exist. Rafe kept quiet, but he sure couldn't forget she was there.

They were planning to go back to the cavern.

He'd have to wait and take her in the dark. She would come. Her determination was clear. It was only when he made that decision that he realized how badly he wanted to go back into the darkness.

The couple moved out of sight, and he slipped over the ledge and slid away. He wanted to be back underground. It felt like home there. He could force Gilliland to admit where he'd hidden the money if he wanted to see his daughter alive again.

He rushed for his dark home in the netherworld and felt his spirits—evil spirits, he realized—burn with excitement. Burn as hot as Hades.

Chapter
9

Living with Julia was a little like being a child again with a bossy mother. Audra loved her stepdaughter dearly, but there was no denying who was in charge.

When Julia came back from her walk, she checked on Audra, who was sitting down, the baby on her lap.

Julia cocked her head as she studied Audra, as if trying to decide if Audra was tough enough to have a toddler sit in her lap. “Has he spoken to you?”

“No. He's stirred a few times, and muttered, but he's never opened his eyes or responded when I talked to him.”

“I'll get supper on. You stay with him. Give me Maggie.”

“No, go on.” Audra thought she sounded quite stern. “I'll keep her. She's fine with me.”

It hadn't taken Audra long to learn their lives were more peaceful if Audra did as she was told. So Audra did the few chores she could get to before Julia forbade it and otherwise minded her . . . daughter.

It pinched.

Now, she sat by her husband. Her dying husband. Her husband who would not leave a single person behind to grieve.

He was sleeping, or unconscious. Audra glanced over her shoulder to make sure Julia wasn't watching, then scooted off the chair to kneel at his side, urging Maggie to sit on the floor beside a basin of clean, cool water. Wendell's shirt was off and a blanket covered most of him. But his arm with its small ugly wound was uncovered, red and swollen. Audra saw nothing she could do for that, so she bathed his forehead.

At the first touch of the cold rag, he tossed his head and muttered, “Stop . . . go away.”

Leaning forward, she pressed the cloth to his brow and cheeks. “Wendell, you're very sick. We need to get your fever down.”

Wendell's eyes fluttered open. They looked glazed and seemed to have a film over them.

Bending toward him, she twisted so she could look him in the eye. “Wendell, I'm sorry you're so sick.”

She meant it. She had no affection or respect for the man, but he'd given her Maggie, and Julia. He'd given her life meaning whether he'd intended to or not.

Remembering her hasty wedding turned her thoughts to Carolyn. Audra's little sister was too young for a husband right now, but her father might well have new gambling debts building up. Audra had to find a way to save Carolyn from a husband of Father's choosing.

Looking down at her husband, she felt guilty for her uncharitable thoughts. She wanted him to
change
, not die.

“Pray with me, Wendell.” Audra set the rag in the basin and moved the water to her right so Maggie couldn't reach in and splash. Taking Wendell's right hand in hers, she said, “You are very sick. We need to pray. That's the only hope we have. We need a miracle to stop this infection.”

“My arm hurts.” He tugged against her hold, but she hung on, and only because of the pain, he didn't fight her.

“You've got a cut. It's infected.” Audra was careful not to move his arm.

“Just a scratch. Scratched it on a nail at work. Nothing. Need to be up.”

“Pray with me, please. We'll pray for healing and we'll pray for your soul, Wendell.” She braced herself for the cruel words she feared would come. “If we don't get a miracle, you'll be facing your Maker very soon. You need to make your peace with God.”

“Struck it rich. Hid it. A fortune.”

Startled, Audra leaned forward. “What about a fortune?” Then she realized what was really important. “We'll talk about that later. First we need to—”

“No one'll find it. No one. Not my stubborn daughter. Not my stupid wife.” Wendell laughed, weak and rusty but with a satisfied air. “Stuffed it in deep. Deep and dark.”

“Hush about the money. If you want to tell me about it, we'll do it later.” She hoped they had
later
.

“I'm not telling you where it is. I put it in a hole. No one'll find it.” Wendell fumbled for his shirt pocket, and found no shirt. “Where're my cigars?”

“Let's pray.” Audra moved one of her hands so she could hold both of his.

Maggie sat quietly in the corner, chewing on the hem of her little dress. The little one sitting quietly was a miracle in itself.

“Need my cigar case. Where is it?” Wendell's eyelids drooped as if they were too heavy to keep open.

Audra felt tension in his grasp, so she hoped he was still awake. She prayed aloud for him, hoping God could soften this hardhearted man.

She stayed with him, in prayer. She thought his lips moved with hers a few times and prayed fervently that God would reach the stony soil of Wendell's soul. Finally his hands went slack and he slipped into unconsciousness.

Audra stood, her knees aching. A wave of dizziness swamped her. For a moment Audra thought she might lose the contents of her belly. She sat in her chair to let her head clear, and just as her stomach began to settle, something else hit her. Pain. A solid wall of pain that tightened across her belly. She'd felt it a few times before. Once when Maggie was born. Several times with this child.

But it would stop if Audra would just stay quiet. It always had.

Maggie got up from her quiet play and came the few steps to Audra. The little one slapped at Audra's lap. “Up!” She reached her arms for Audra in such a sweet, loving way, Audra nearly cried with the pleasure of it. “Up, mamamama.”

It might not be Mama, but then again it might. Maggie made that same sound for a lot of things. But one of these times, someone was going to have to admit Maggie could say
Mama
. The tension left her stomach and, wondering if she should exert herself even this much, she pulled Maggie onto her lap.

It was mealtime for Maggie, so Audra took the moment of privacy as an opportunity to nurse her. The pains came again several times while Audra sat feeding Maggie, but they eased off and Maggie finished, and Audra hoped it meant things were fine again.

When Audra was sure she could stand, she rose to go help Julia, knowing Julia wouldn't let her do a thing.

She felt useless and protected and loved. A strange combination.

When she entered the front room, Julia looked up from a steaming pot and smiled.

“Rafe brought in four rabbits. We'll have fresh meat tonight.”

Julia set aside the potatoes she was cutting into chunks to stew with the rabbit. She saw Audra's wan face and rushed into her father's room, got the chair, brought it out and sat it beside the table. That was all the furniture they owned. Nails on the wall to hang the single dress each of them owned, to be taken down and replaced by their nightgowns. A makeshift table created by jamming split logs into cracks in cabin walls.

“Here, give me Maggie.” Julia took the little sweetheart and eased Audra down. She felt Audra's shoulder tremble. This life was too much for her fragile stepmother.

“That rag I tore up this morning was an old skirt of yours, but the shirtwaist that matched it is still in the ragbag. You need to change your shirt and wash up, Julia. You're a mess.” Audra smiled to take the sting out of that rather rude opinion.

Though Julia knew it was no opinion but rather the absolute truth.

“I'll clean up as soon as the stew is on. I'll be a while washing up and getting a comb through my hair.” Julia was made of sterner stuff by far than Audra. She'd moved many times, beginning soon after her mother had died. She knew how to make the most of the three carpetbags and two wooden crates she and Father could carry.

A skillet, a pot, plates and a spatula, a few tin cups, staples from the cupboard, blankets. And of course her precious few books, papers and ink, and the magazines she loved. Julia knew some might call those frivolous, but she refused to part with her books and her copies of the
Proceedings
. Her father had bought them for her. Those books and Father's help mailing off her articles were the only ways he showed any kindness to her. They meant more to her than simply something to read and study. She'd often thought that if she could get one of her articles published, her father would be really proud.

She'd learned to be ruthlessly practical during a move. But she couldn't bear to give up the books and the few tools she had for her exploration.

“I can hold her, Julia. You can't cut up vegetables with a baby in your arms.”

Julia smiled. “That's about the only thing I can't do. Let's let her run a bit. I can block her from the fireplace.”

Audra nodded and gave Julia a grateful smile. “Okay. I just have a bit of an . . . an . . . uh . . . upset stomach. You do so much for me, Julia. Thank you.”

“I've had some practice.” Julia set Maggie down on the floor. “Now, you be careful of the fire.” She tweaked the little sweetheart's cute chin and went back to preparing the stew.

When the stew was assembled and needed only time to get tender, she rushed into her room and changed into a clean, if faded and worn, shirtwaist that clashed with her skirt.

She washed a bit. The water from bathing her face and neck and hair was pink, tinged with blood. She struggled to tidy her hair for a few moments, but worry about Maggie and the fire and poor tired Audra had her doing a poor job of taming it.

When she returned to the kitchen she found the rabbit was simmering nicely. She'd made a huge pot and planned to dish up some for Audra as soon as the vegetables were tender. A little tough rabbit wouldn't do any harm. Then she'd skim off some broth and try to coax her father into eating. Then she'd see if Rafe was ready to eat. If there was time, she'd take Maggie outside and let her run a bit. Then she'd—

The door swung open, and Ethan Kincaid entered. Julia had forgotten about him.

“How's Wendell?” His attention was all for Audra.

And why not? She was the one who needed attention. Maggie made a break for the door.

“He's sleeping.” Audra rose from her chair, steadied herself by gripping the back, then headed for Maggie.

Maggie saw her coming, squealed and toddled faster, laughing. She loved the game of
chase me
. Ethan scooped her up, and Maggie giggled and hugged his neck. Ethan looked down at the baby with a disconcerted expression. “Go 'head and sit down. I've got her.”

Audra narrowed her eyes in a way Julia didn't understand. She almost looked angry, but why? The woman needed help. She should be relieved and grateful.

“Did you find that man?” Julia thought of being stranded in the pit. The fear combined with the lure of that cavern was almost maddening.

“No. I never caught up to him. I followed him until he hit a stretch so rocky I couldn't pick up the trail after that.”

Rafe came up behind her. “Could he have been heading for Rawhide?”

“Maybe. But it was . . . odd before that.”

“Odd?”

“Well, the way he wandered, it was odd.”

“Odd how?” Julia gripped Rafe's arm tighter. “Odd like . . . crazy?”

“No.” Ethan frowned at her. “What makes you say that?”

“Moving that rope, well, whoever did it knew I was down there. But a regular person, an unprincipled one, might take a chance like that to rob someone or even kill . . .” Julia shuddered.

Audra gasped.

Forging on, Julia said, “But just moving the rope, there was no point to it.” She whirled back to the fireplace, poked a carrot with a fork, and decided it was tender enough for a bowl of soup for everyone. The meat wouldn't be tender, the vegetables still a little on the crisp side, but it was still tasty. The smell of it made Julia's mouth water. Father always brought enough food, but none of it was very good.

“Tell me what made this guy odd, Eth.” Rafe's voice turned Julia from her cook pot to hear what Ethan had to say.

“Well, he went in circles a few places.”

“Maybe trying to lose you,” Rafe suggested.

Julia stuck a fork in a potato.

“I don't think so. The movement was more random than that. I don't think he knew I was trailing him.”

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