Stay a Little Longer (34 page)

“That can be arranged,” Mason growled.

For a moment, neither man moved, but suddenly Rachel’s attacker pounced, lunging with a punch that connected but, with his
much-weakened state, wasn’t powerful enough to do any real damage. With a grunt, Mason retaliated, delivering a crushing blow
to the man’s chin, sending him hurtling backward; his knees quivered, and he finally crashed to the floor. He tried to rise,
but his senses had escaped him, and his head hit the wooden floor with a thud.

End this now!
Mason told himself.

Striding over to the man, Mason meant to do just that, his fists still bunched to administer the crucial final blow. But just
as he was about to reach down and snatch a handful of his opponent’s shirt, his foe pulled the knife he had hidden in his
boot, and swung it in a dangerous arc. Its long blade reflected the light emanating from the raging fire and caught Mason
in his forearm.

Mason winced in pain. “Damn it!”

Before the man could even rise to his elbows, Mason angrily kicked the blade out of his hand, sending it skittering across
the floor and into the depths of the burning kitchen beyond, safely out of reach. He followed this with another kick to the
stranger’s temple, rendering him incapable of further struggle. A red gash trickled blood down Mason’s underarm, to his fingers,
where it fell to the floor.

His anger peaking, Mason bent down and grabbed the beaten man by the collar. His head lolled unsteadily as Mason yanked him
up until their faces were only inches apart.

“Who sent you here?” he demanded. “Why did you want to hurt Rachel?”

“You… you got it… all wrong…” the man answered through bloody teeth.

“Tell me, damn you!”

“Weren’t her… that I was comin’ for… was you…”

Shock rose in Mason’s face so quickly that he couldn’t mask it; when the stranger saw his reaction, he began to laugh, a wheezing,
wet sound that struggled to fight its way out of his chest.

“Who sent you?” Mason demanded, regaining his wayward thoughts, refusing to relent until he got an answer.

“Shouldn’t… be… too damn… hard…”

“Who?”

“Your br… brother… Za… Zach…” And then the man was unable to answer any further, slipping off into the darkness of unconsciousness,
his body surrendering to the pain of his beating. Mason let him fall to the floor. His fears had been realized; Zachary knew
he was still alive.

Reaching down, Mason grabbed the unmoving man and, with some effort, lifted him up over his shoulder. As he made his way to
the rear of the house, he did all that he could to shield his weary, beaten body against the heat emanating from the kitchen
and the hallway beyond. He staggered to the door the assailant had entered by, yanked it open, and stepped out into the cold
November night. One thought consumed him.

You will pay for what you have done. Brother, this I swear…

Rachel paced back and forth in front of the blazing boardinghouse, nervously wringing her hands. The building had begun to
fall apart before her very eyes; waves of flame roiled across the outside walls, windows shattered spectacularly on both floors,
and the occasional crash of a collapsing beam echoed into the night. Jasper began to bark, as if he wanted their attention,
but Rachel knew that there was nothing that anyone could do; their home was being destroyed.

A small crowd of anxious neighbors had gathered in the November chill, offering their condolences and keeping a close eye
that the fire would not spread any farther. The idea of forming a bucket chain had been suggested, but everyone present knew
that it was far too little, far too late.

“Isn’t there anything we can do?” Eliza fretted.

“Too late for that.” Otis frowned. “All we’re gonna be left with is a bunch of hot embers for our trouble.”

“At least you all made it out alive,” someone in the crowd added.

Not everyone…

All Rachel could think of was that Mason was still trapped inside the burning building. What a horrible choice he had forced
her to make to leave him, but she knew that he had been right. Without warning, all of her family would have perished. But
with every passing moment, her fear grew. Was he still fighting amid the flames?

Just as she was about to throw caution to the wind and try to find a way back into the raging inferno, Mason suddenly came
around the corner, the man who had accosted her slung over his shoulder, arms hanging limply in defeat. As Mason reached her,
an audible gasp went up from somewhere in the crowd, from someone who clearly recognized the man who stood before them. As
if he were dropping a sack of potatoes onto the ground, Mason tossed down the unconscious man.

“Thank heaven you’re safe,” he whispered.

Without a word, Rachel hurled herself into his arms. She couldn’t have cared less what anyone watching thought, content instead
to bury her head into the crook of his neck as tears came to her eyes. Releasing her fear, sobs racked her body. All around
them, whispered voices spoke.

“How… how can it be?”

“What happened to his face? How did he get scarred?”

“But Mason Tucker is dead, isn’t he?”

“He looks like a… a monster!”

“There now,” Mason soothed Rachel, paying no heed to the chatter. “Everything’s all right.”

“I… I did… did as you said…”

“That you did.”

From over Mason’s shoulder, Rachel could see her mother watching them, but though she had expected Eliza to have a disapproving
look on her face, surprisingly, it was more one of curiosity. Hers was the only face that didn’t reflect shock at their embrace.

“He told me that Zachary had sent him to look for me,” Mason explained when they had finally separated, nodding at the unconscious
man. “You were right.”

Rachel took no satisfaction from Mason’s words. “He’ll pay for what he’s done.”

She began looking for Charlotte, wanting the young girl to join in their celebration, but glancing first from her mother,
then to Otis, to Jasper, and eventually to the small crowd, she was surprised to find no sign of her. Shivers of dread raced
down her spine. Suddenly, an earsplitting shriek managed to cut through the sounds of the raging fire.

It was Charlotte’s voice… coming from inside the house.

Mason raced up to the front door and, kicked at the blazing knob, driving it inward with a crack to reveal a raging inferno
beyond. Towering flames reached across every surface, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake. Waves of incredible heat
rolled over his skin.

“How in the hell’re you gonna get in there?” Otis marveled.

“She’ll be so scared, Mason!” Rachel pleaded. “You’ve got to get her!”

“I won’t let her be hurt,” he vowed.

Mason took a deep breath and, with his sleeve held tightly against his face, just as quickly as he could raced into the foyer
and past the hungry flames, only stopping when he had reached the bottom of the staircase. For an instant, the ever-present
heat brought back the horrors he had experienced on the battlefield, of the explosion that had scarred him and taken him away
from those he loved, but he refused to let himself be distracted.

“Charlotte!” he shouted. “Where are you? Answer me, child!”

There was no answer save for the sounds of destruction.

Suddenly, from somewhere behind him came the distinctive sound of a beam cracking, followed by the collapse of the dining
room’s ceiling. Debris, mostly plaster and wood, rained down on the floor, victim to the fire’s relentless consumption of
the boardinghouse. Still, in the din of noise, Mason heard the faintest of sounds, a voice, calling from the top of the stairs.

“Daddy! Help me, Daddy!”

It was Charlotte!

Mason had no idea how his daughter had climbed back up to the second floor, especially after Rachel had succeeded in bringing
her to safety, but he was far more concerned about reaching her again, saving his child from the flames.

Before Mason, parts of the staircase burned in orange-and-yellow flame. Steeling himself, he raced quickly up the steps, leaping
over a particularly nasty spot, but just as he tried righting himself by reaching out to the oaken banister, the railing gave
way and he found himself balancing precariously, high above the burning floor below. Flailing his arms, he finally managed
to regain his momentum before falling back on his rear.

Damn it, Mason! You won’t be any good to Charlotte if you’re dead!

Covering the short distance to the head of the stairs, Mason rushed to the open door to Charlotte’s room, flame pursuing him
at nearly every turn. What he witnessed inside made his heart stop: Charlotte cowered in the far corner of the room, her hands
clutched to her chest as everything around her collapsed into ruin. Part of the ceiling just inside the doorway had fallen
in, leaving a twisted, burning heap of wood blocking any entry or exit; it had clearly been what had caused her to scream.

“Charlotte?” Mason called. “Are you hurt?”

“No… no… Daddy,” she whimpered.

“Don’t move, honey,” he reassured her, fearful to frighten her further. “I’m coming to get you.”

Taking two short steps back, his feet precariously close to the railing, Mason girded himself and then raced back to the door,
leaping into the mess of wreckage and flame. Searing heat singed his arms, tugged at his hair, and sucked the very air from
his lungs. For a short, painful moment, he wondered if he would manage to clear the pile of debris, or if he would become
trapped, dying a horrible death before his daughter’s eyes, but somehow he continued on, landing in the relative safety beyond.

Rushing to Charlotte, Mason took the frightened girl in his arms as tears streamed down her face.

“What are you doing here, sweetheart?” he asked. “Why didn’t you stay with Rachel?”

“I had to! I had to come back inside! I couldn’t let Mama’s treasure be lost!” Charlotte cried.

“What are you talking about?”

It was then that Charlotte revealed what she had been protectively clutching to her chest; Mason immediately recognized the
well-read letter and worn photograph of Alice that Mason had given her.

Uncontrollably, a smile came to Mason’s lips. While he wasn’t happy that Charlotte had placed herself in such danger, he couldn’t
help but feel that she had done so out of love for her mother, even if her emotions had no memories to accompany them.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said.

It was impossible for them to go back the way that he had come; even if he managed to get past the rubble at the door, he
had no doubt that the flames had nearly finished their work on the stairs. The only option that remained to them was the window.

The intense heat had already managed to crack the window’s pane, splitting it nearly in two; Mason merely finished what the
fire had started, kicking out the damaged shards, clearing an exit with his boot. Pulling Charlotte tight to his chest, he
said, “Hold on to me as tightly as you can and don’t look down. We’ll be back with Rachel before you know it.”

Mason winced painfully as a fragment of glass sliced into his back as they climbed out of the window and onto the short roof
of the second floor. Aware of the layout of the house, he knew their best bet was to go to the rear of the building and use
the gentle slope that covered the rear porch to get to the ground.

Moving carefully, watchful not to slip or break through a weakened portion of the boardinghouse roof, Mason picked his way
toward the back of the building. He soon found that his plan wasn’t perfect; at the boardinghouse’s rear, the fire raged completely
out of control. The kitchen, where the fire had first begun, was almost entirely consumed; only the barest framework remained,
visible through the destroyed roof. Thankfully, some of the porch roof had survived, allowing Mason to inch his way out onto
it. The ground, no farther than ten feet down, seemed miles away.

“We have to jump, Charlotte,” he explained. “Can you hold on to me?”

Charlotte nodded fearfully, her blonde hair covering her face.

“That’s a good girl.”

Without hesitation, Mason leapt out into the November night. They landed on the hard ground with a thud, Mason rolling to
protect the little girl, taking the brunt of the fall on himself. Gasping, he held Charlotte close to his chest, thankful
that, somehow, he had saved them both.

“Are you all right?” he asked, wiping a strand of hair from her face.

Charlotte nodded weakly.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“I don’t want to do it again, not unless Jasper gets to come.”

As Rachel ran toward them, Mason couldn’t help but laugh.

Zachary Tucker paced nervously past the windows of his office, moving back and forth without ever coming to a complete stop.
Outside, heavy snow continued to fall, signaling the certain arrival of winter, but he paid it little heed. The Carlson Bank
and Trust was empty, all of the employees having left hours earlier, but Zachary was far too restless to retire for the night.
With a half-full glass of whiskey and smoldering cigar for company, he knew he couldn’t rest,
wouldn’t
rest until he knew the truth.

Sending Travis Jefferson to discover the facts was risky. The man had a fondness for violence that could end up with someone
being badly hurt, but it was a course Zachary was willing to take, no matter the consequences.

The thought that somehow his father hadn’t been delirious, that he hadn’t imagined his elder son had returned from the grave,
unsettled Zachary. Though he felt it was impossible for Mason to be alive, he knew the mysterious stranger was not someone
he could simply ignore. With his anticipated deal with the lumber company hanging precariously in the balance, there truly
hadn’t been a choice.

I need to know who was in my father’s room!

Suddenly, the sound of the downstairs door being opened rose to his ears. Zachary relaxed, slipping behind his desk; the only
person besides himself who had a key was Travis. He must have finally finished his work, returning to give up the information
his employer desired.