He’d have to light one of the lines of gunpowder. He’d take a volunteer for the other. Get everyone clear if they had the time. Jeremy had agreed to come rescue Morning Fawn if anything happened to Devon and get her to Federal territory.Please, Lord, don’t let it come to that.
The barn-door-wide entrance to the back of the warehouse sat ajar. He shoved it with his shoulder. A couple of lanterns swayed from the rafters, dimly illuminating row upon row of burlap-wrapped bales. A narrow maze of pathways separated the cotton towers, and three iron hoists hovered silently overhead.
He handed Oscar and his brother a keg each. “Start here at the door and pour a line each between the main rows, then join them at the center of the building. Take off your coats—and your boots if you have to. Can’t get the powder wet.”
Gunter set his barrel in the center, then followed him out the door. Two more loads. Double quick. Oscar’s brother Jarvis joined them on the third trip. Sweat soaked Devon’s shirt.
Kegs and barrel in the center. Two lines of powder betweenthe rows, meeting close to the door. Ready to light if the enemy showed up. But there weren’t enough kegs here yet, not if he wanted the towers to turn into unstoppable infernos.
Devon pointed to Jarvis. “Help us carry another couple of loads over from the supply depot.”
A bugle blast. Schramm’s signal. The hairs on Devon’s arms stood. He broke two matchsticks off the bundle and shoved them into Oscar’s hand. “Light it and get out.”
Devon took off at a run, followed by Gunter. He had to get to the depot. Blow those supplies sky-high.
Halfway there, he slipped on the ice. Pain coursed through his knee.
“Hey, you.” Someone yelled as he pumped his legs past the opening between the buildings.
Gunter halted at the corner and shouldered his rifle.
Devon lunged for the depot. The cotton warehouse should have blown by now.
Gunfire.
Frederick swung the depot door open. “What?—”
“Get to the trees.” Devon flung his coat off and rubbed his hands against his shirt.
“But—”
“I’ll light it.” Heel against the doorjamb, Devon dug a Lucifer out of the waterproof pouch. His hand shook.
A different bugle. Shots rang through the air.
Devon struck the match, his heart pounding.Dear God in heaven, please don’t let this be the end. Take care of Morning Fawn. He bent and dropped the flickering flame onto the black powder. A sizzle. It caught.
He spun on his heels and bolted into the storm. Ice pellets, slicked grass, blistering wind… He ran with all his might. Shots, men yelling, men coming after him. Up ahead, Frederic fell. A boom rocked the air, throwing him forward and to the ground. But not the charge he’d set—farther away. His head rang. He scrambled to his feet. Something tore into his arm. Still, he ran. No time. Not far enough away. He dove for the incline, just a small slope. Maybe it’d be enough. Landed on his belly and slid downward?—
Boom! Boom. Boom.His hip slammed into a tree. Time stopped. No more men. Smoke filled the air and clogged his lungs. No more sound. Only a ringing deep in his head. He had to get up. He had to move. His life depended upon it.
He crawled to his knees. Pebbles and sleet stung his palms. A board lay in front of him. From the warehouse? He stood. Pain shot through his thigh. He’d crawl. Stay hidden that way. Hand and knee, hand and knee, he plunged forward into the brush.
Snags clawed at him as he moved toward the river. He gained his feet. The pain didn’t matter. If he didn’t get away, he’d never feel pain again.
The hill sloped to the water. He half tumbled and rolled. Shots. He could hear again. The water—he heard that too. He shivered, pushed to his feet, and ran.
A woman stepped out of the shadows. Morning Fawn?
No. Dark cloak and hair. Frieda. “What are you doing here?” He grabbed her arms.
“You’re bleeding. You’re hurt.” Her voice raked the air.
“I told you to get to the safe house.”
“I found someone to loan me a boat.” She pointed to the water where a canoe slushed against the bank.
Fire glowed back up on the hill, despite the sleet. Bells rang. And in the mix, gunfire snapped through the air. He shoved her toward the canoe.
