Brides of Iowa (60 page)

What if it was Susan? Should he call out to her?

What if it isn’t Susan?
A drop of sweat ran down his neck into the collar of his shirt.

A slight breeze stirred, and an owl hooted from a nearby tree. An explosion of noise erupted from the grass. His heart seized with a jolt, and he instinctively threw his arms up in front of his face. Two or three animals bounded into the woods, the sound of their feet leaping through the brush growing fainter as they retreated. Deer, most likely. Everett’s knees wobbled, and his stomach twisted with nausea. The breath he struggled to control moments earlier now came in great gulps. He bent at the waist and propped his hands on his knees.

“Thank You, God.”

He waited until his pulse returned to almost normal and the moonlight once again befriended him before he straightened. The owl hooted again, and Everett squinted up through the tree branches. “I suppose you’re amused by that.” He sent an accusing glare into the trees limbs, and the owl replied with a series of doleful
whoo-whoos.

The sound reminded Everett of the prayer he’d prayed a few weeks ago for God to make something beautiful of his life.
Something beautiful, beautiful…

He pressed on through the meadow, moonlight and clouds creating a strange patchwork of silver and shadow. The owl’s hoots followed him, floating on the still night air. Instead of sounding like a taunt, it fell on his ears in a soothing reminder of God’s hand liberating him from his self-made prison.

Everett smiled. “Lord, I don’t know what direction You will take me or how You plan to work in my life. I only know the best place, the safest place, for me to be is within Your hand. If I stay there, I believe You
will
make something beautiful happen. Guide me, Lord, through this night. Whatever path You’ve charted for me, keep me close to You.”

Something beautiful. Something beautiful.
Heaven spilled affirmation over him, as if God was agreeing with his prayer. Weariness drained away. A fresh spurt of energy flowed. Uplifted, Everett called out again. “Susan. Susan.”

What was that? An unidentifiable sound reached him. Another animal? He stopped, all of his senses piqued. The breeze picked up again and stirred the leaves and grass.

There it was again. A frail squeak filtered through the soft whooshing of the wind. Did Gray follow him out here? Silly cat.

He was about to move on when the muted mewing sound penetrated the darkness once more. “Gray? Is that you?”

When no meow replied, he shook his head, chagrined. Perhaps his imagination was getting carried away. He ran a hand through his hair. How long had he been out here? Four hours? Longer? With the light of the moon, he moved on in what he hoped was the direction of the church. His foot stumbled on a low spot, and he realized he’d come across a tiny rivulet, no doubt coming from a spring somewhere higher. Grateful, he bent on one knee to quench his thirst. As he was sucking in the third handful of water, the squeaky cry reached him again, but this time it was closer. And it spoke.

“Mama.”

The water slipped through his fingers, and he jerked his head up. “Susan?” He pushed to his feet. “Susan?”

He heard a tiny sob and hiccup. “Mama.”

Joy stirred in his middle and rose up, much like the joy he’d felt last year after the fire when he’d learned his father and Pearl were safe. “Susan, where are you? Keep calling so I can find you.”

Another weak cry rode on the breeze to his ears. “Mama.”

“I’m coming, Susan. I’m coming.”

“Mama.” Her voice grew stronger.

As the air currents moved the clouds away from the moon, a shaft of radiance like a beam from heaven widened across the meadow and revealed a patch of pale yellow at the base of a tree. Everett headed toward it. “I’m coming, Susan.”

“I want Mama.”

A grin split Everett’s face. He’d never heard such sweet words. A few more strides and he lowered himself to one knee in front of the little girl in the yellow dress. “Hey, do you know how many people are out looking for you?”

Susan tipped her face up and stared at him. She shook her head.

“Are you all right? Are you hurt anywhere?” He sent an anxious scan over her face and arms. No visible blood.

She held out one arm and twisted it around, pointing to a place near her elbow. “Ow.”

Everett couldn’t see much in the pale light, but based on Susan’s description of her injury, it was minor. A wave of relief washed over him.

The little girl chattered her teeth. “I cold.” She reached out her arms, and Everett gathered her close to his chest. She snuggled her head onto his shoulder.

He pulled his chin back and looked down at her. “I’ll bet you want to go home, don’t you?”

Moonlight shimmered off the tears on her plump cheeks. “I want Mama.” She locked her arms around his neck.

“I know, honey.” He patted her back. “Can I put you down for a minute?” He set her in front of him, and she leaned against his bent knee. A mixture of fatigue and exhilaration made his fingers fumble with the buttons on his shirt, but he pulled the garment off and wrapped it around her. It wasn’t a blanket, but it was the best he could do. He tugged the collar higher around her neck and face, and then adjusted his suspenders over the shoulders of his long johns.

“Let’s go back over here and get a drink of water. Then we’ll go home.”

He carried her back a few paces where the tiny stream cut through the meadow. Cupping his hand, he scooped up several handfuls of water for the little tyke, who slurped at the moisture noisily.

She leaned forward and peered up at his face. “Are you a angel?”

Everett chuckled and dabbed at her wet face with the tail of the shirt. “No, honey. My name is Everett, and I’m going to take you home.”

“Ever.” She wrapped her arms around his neck again.

He rose with the little girl safely snuggled in his arms. She felt like an aspen leaf quivering in the wind. Shivers rippled through her tiny, lithe body. Everett positioned his arms to cover as much of her as he could, hoping he could give her some of his warmth. Again he berated himself for not bringing a gun. The other searchers and those waiting at the church wouldn’t know he’d found Susan until he arrived back at Willow Creek with her.

If he kept the woods to his left and followed them, he should eventually find the town. With a prayer of gratitude on his lips, he headed toward the church with as much speed as his limited vision and small burden would allow. The very thought of placing the little girl in her mother’s arms filled him with unspeakable joy.

T
illie’s chest tightened at the sound of Tessa’s soft weeping. Mrs. Witherspoon sat beside the distraught mother, holding Tessa’s hand. Tillie rolled her head from side to side, working out the kinks in her neck and easing the tension in her shoulders. If only she could do the same for Tessa’s heart.

Tillie poured three cups of coffee and served sandwiches to the trio of men who’d dragged in minutes earlier, reporting they’d seen no sign of the little girl. With apologetic glances in Tessa’s direction, the men spoke quietly of the ground they’d covered and the thoroughness of their search. Tillie listened to their exchange with a sinking heart as they gulped down their food.

One of the men talked around the bite of sandwich in his mouth. “We heard that one rifle shot. Hoped it meant the little one had been found, but”—he shrugged—“there weren’t but one shot, so we kept lookin’.”

The other men nodded, and one of them jerked his thumb toward another pair of searchers. “Todd Finnigan said he took a shot at a wolf he saw in the distance, but the critter was out of range.”

Tillie glanced toward Mr. Finnigan, who was filling a lantern with coal oil. Though discouraged over not having found Susan yet, none of the men who’d come back for a fresh horse or something to eat talked of giving up. For that, Tillie was grateful.

Tillie carried a canteen to the pump at the side of the building and worked the handle up and down, filling the vessel. She fastened the closure and crossed the yard to hand the canteen to Todd Finnigan.

“Mr. Finnigan, where was that wolf you saw?”

The dancing light from the torches seemed to deepen the worry lines in the man’s face. “Southwest of here, across Devil’s Backbone Hill, near the edge of the woods.”

Tillie shook her head slightly. “Do you really think Susan could have wandered that far?”

He accepted the canteen and shrugged. “Who knows? I’ve seen little ones move faster than the parents thought they could.” He slung the canteen onto his shoulder. “Personally, I hope she’s found right here, holed up in some little out-of-the-way nook no one thought to check. I know you ladies are still looking all over town.” He tugged the brim of his hat and picked up the lantern. “Thanks for the water and the grub.”

The man stepped beyond the torchlight and disappeared into the darkness. With a sigh, Tillie poured another cup of coffee and picked up the old quilt she and Ben had sat upon hours earlier. So much had transpired—the picnic was a faded memory. She crossed the yard to the church steps and handed Tessa the cup. Tessa shook her head, but Tillie nudged it toward her insistently. “Drink it. You need something in your stomach.” She unfolded the quilt and draped it around Tessa’s trembling shoulders. “Mrs. Witherspoon, why don’t you go get yourself something to eat. I’ll stay with Tessa.”

The pastor’s wife smiled and rose, nodding toward the church door. “Some of the ladies have started a continuous prayer time inside. Two or three are in there praying right now. After a while some others will spell them.”

Tillie nodded. “I’ll join them in a bit.” She sat down and slipped her arm around Tessa. “Did you get any sleep?”

Tessa shook her head. “No, but Mrs. Witherspoon made me rest even if I couldn’t sleep.” She released a shaky sigh. “Oh Tillie, what if—”

“Stop!” Tillie held up her hand. “Don’t even think like that. There are dozens of men out there combing every inch of the woods and meadows and hills.” She rubbed Tessa’s back. “Mr. Finnigan said she’s probably right around here somewhere in a place we haven’t looked. She’ll wake up hungry and start crying for you, and wonder what all the fuss is about.”

Tessa nodded and took a swallow of coffee. “Has Everett come back yet?”

At the mention of his name, a rush of warmth filled Tillie’s chest and traveled up her neck. She shook her head. “No, not yet. I’m sure he’s just being thorough.” She didn’t voice the fear that had run through her head a dozen times already.
He’s not as familiar with these hills as the other men. What if he got turned around and can’t find his way back to the church?

Tessa’s soft voice broke into her thoughts. “I’m sure he’ll come in anytime now.”

Tillie blinked at her friend’s insight and unselfish expression of comfort. “Of course he’s fine. So is Susan. We’re the ones who have the hardest job of all—waiting.”

“Matilda.”

Tillie glanced up to see her father trudging across the yard. “Da.” She trotted over to greet him, clutching his arm the instant they met. There was no need to ask the question that burned in her heart. Da’s weary eyes and discouraged countenance gave her all the answers she needed. “Da, come and sit down. I’ll bring you some coffee and a sandwich.”

“’Twould be a blessin’, for sure.” He sat on the grass and leaned back on his elbows.

Tillie hurried to the table and assembled a sandwich from leftover chicken. Having a task to occupy her hands vented some of her nervous energy, but her mind and heart still yearned to see Everett emerge from the darkness. Immediately, her conscience was smitten. “Lord, it’s selfish to think of my own feelings for Everett at a time like this.” She glanced over her shoulder at Tessa, who remained on the church steps, looking forlorn with Tillie’s quilt draped around her. “Lord, please surround little Susan with Your angels, and bring her back home to Tessa and Gideon.” She put the sandwich on a tin plate. “Since You’re already working in the midst of this crisis, I beg You, heavenly Father, to bring Everett back safely as well.”

She took her father the food and coffee and sat next to him while he ate. He took a noisy slurp. “Ah, ’tis good coffee. It’ll warm up me innards.”

Tillie scanned the yard, taking in the handful of men, some of whom had just arrived and others who were preparing to go back out. Her gaze moved from left to right until it landed on Tessa. Every time she looked at her friend, Tillie’s heart cramped. Da also glanced in Tessa’s direction, a deep furrow in his brow.

“Poor girl.” He shook his head.

“Da, do you have any idea what areas the men have covered?”

Da munched on his sandwich and chased it down with a swallow of coffee. “Hubert Behr said he and Phillip planned to cover the area from his house south and east. Jed Brewer said he and his boy would go straight east from town to the Clermont road and then circle back toward the north. I covered the stretch between here and our place. Then I headed west a ways and crossed back to that rocky place in the hills where you kids used to go and play.” He took another bite. “Has Everett been back yet?”

Tillie shook her head. “When he left here, he was going toward the woods.”

Da stuffed the last bite of sandwich into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Mm. He planned to search through the woods. I told him a bit about the lay of the land, him bein’ here only a year. Showed him on a sketch how the woods curve to the northwest and meet Devil’s Backbone Hill. That’s the area he was searchin’. You say he ain’t been back in? He should have covered that area by now.”

The blood in Tillie’s veins froze, and a quiver shuddered through her that had nothing to do with the chill in the air. “Devil’s Backbone?”

“Aye.” Da hoisted himself to his feet.

Tillie scrambled to snatch Da’s sleeve before he could take a step. “Da, Mr. Finnigan said he spotted a wolf near there. He took a shot at it, but it was too far away.”

“Ah, that must’ve been the shot I heard.” He slipped his arm around her. “Don’t fret, daughter. Everett can take care of himself.”

“But Da, he didn’t take a gun with him.”