Duncan took Kit’s horse and rode off, while Kit went from door to door trying to find out if anyone could give him any clues as to where the women were taken.
Fifteen minutes later Lee and Duncan rode up. Kit was waiting near the hitching post.
“Did you find out anything?” Lee asked.
Kit shook his head. “Nobody saw anything, except Maddie and Liv, and they said the wagon headed that way.” Kit pointed down to the bay side of the hill. He rubbed his temple in frustration. “God, I don’t even know where to start looking.”
As if he weren’t in enough hell, the sky suddenly poured with rain. The clouds rolled in and the rain drummed on the wooden walks. A scream echoed up from the bottom of the hilly street. The men turned and saw Dagny, torn and barefoot, running toward them, screaming and stumbling up the hill.
They raced to her, and Kit caught her in his arms. She was so hysterical and out of breath that her words were indistinguishable between her panting breaths. He held her and rocked her, trying to get her to calm down so she could speak. She cried so hard, all she could do was gasp, fighting for air, until finally her stammers cleared.
“Abner Brown. He’s burying her... in a coffin...” she gasped, and then fainted.
Kit handed her to Duncan. “Take her home and get Sheriff Hayes. We’ll meet you at the cemetery!”
Kit and Lee mounted their horses and raced toward Telegraph Hill. Kit kicked his horse harder and harder, praying that they’d find her. The rain poured, turning the streets to mud. As he pushed his horse faster, his mind flashed with a picture of the mud, seeping into a deep hole and covering over any evidence of a fresh grave. It drove him on, numb with panic and racing with fear.
They reached the road to the semaphore tower. Kit jumped the gate and his horse faltered in the soft, slick ground. He landed on his right arm and rolled hard against a tree but pulled himself up, ignoring the pain, running and stumbling through the grounds.
He could hear Lee calling out behind him, but he didn’t stop, he couldn’t. The storm lashed around in the black night air, making it hard to see. Kit came over another rise and stopped, peering through the downpour.
Then he saw the wagon.
He closed in on it, running so hard his bones ached. He could see a figure, bent and shoveling mud into a hole. He flew onto Abner, knocking the shovel from his hands as they rolled to the ground. Kit was on top and his hands closed around Abner’s neck, but Abner wedged his leg between their struggling bodies and shoved Kit backward with his foot.
Abner grabbed the shovel and Kit ducked, so the shovel only cut into his shoulder. Pain shot down his injured arm, and he struggled to get up. Lee ran past him, heading straight for Abner, but the madman saw him and swung the shovel, catching the side of Lee’s head and knocking him unconscious.
Kit used the wagon wheel to pull himself up. Abner had the shovel, holding it in front of him like a sword. Kit charged and Abner stepped aside, laughing loudly as Kit stumbled and fell on his back in the mud. He looked up just as Abner swung the shovel back, intending to crush his skull.
The shovel blade hit one of the wagon horses ,and the animal screamed and reared, its frantic hooves catching Abner like hooks and pulling him under the team. Both horses trampled and pawed until Abner’s broken body was pounded into the mud.
Kit groped toward the grave, using one hand to scoop out the mud.
“No!” he screamed. “Goddammit, no!” The mud flowed into the hole faster than he could get it out. “God, you can’t do this! I can’t lose her... I can’t—” His voice cracked with the agony that he couldn’t get to Hallie.
Calling her name again and again, he slid into the hole, wedging his body between the side of the grave and the head of the coffin. He grabbed at the lid but the nails held it shut. He tried to lift it but the heavy mud and his injured arm made it impossible. He had to get the lid off.
Frantic, he looked for something to pry at the nails. He spotted the shovel, broken from the horses’ hooves and half buried in the mud. He crawled from the grave, rain splattering so hard on his face he couldn’t see. He felt around for the shovel but only found mud.
Hurry, Christ hurry!Then his fingers grazed metal. He grasped the wood of the broken handle, dragged the piece into the hole and wedged the metal blade under the lid. Leaning his upper body on the handle, he forced it down with all his body weight. The lid pried open. Over and over he wedged the blade until he could kick the lid open enough to get to Hallie.
He pulled her out and held her against him, rocking with her and calling out her name, begging her to wake up. Then he sat back, cradling her head in his arm and looking at her. Her eyes were closed, as if she were asleep, or dead.
He shook her shoulders.
“Wake up, dammit, you can’t die... you can’t... I can’t lose you...” His tormented words were swallowed in the noise of the storm. “I love you... I love you. Oh God! Don’t do this again... I love her... I love her... I love her...” Pulling her limp body against him, he buried his head in her neck and cried out his pain, his love.
Her hand touched his shoulder, and suddenly she was stroking him.
He pulled back, looking down into her face, wet and spotted with mud. It was the face he loved.
Her eyes opened, hazy, drugged, and blinking against the rain. Recognition lit her features.
“I love you,” he said, his voice hoarse.
She whispered, “I know.” And she smiled.
EPILOGUE
