Inch by inch, he eased toward the side of the wagon and, hopefully, safety. The wagon quivered.
Dianne gasped, the sound echoing in his head.
He froze. Didn’t even breathe. When nothing more happened, he resumed his slow passage. Now the ground was within reach. All he had to do was jump, and then the other twocould leap into his arms. But would the sudden shift of weight be enough to end this precarious situation?
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t jump.
“Eddie, move slowly toward me. Like an inchworm.” He held out a hand, prepared to grab the boy and toss him to safety if it came to that.
Dianne’s eyes bored into his. Dark, fearful, and desperate.
“Follow him, Dianne. Slowly. Very slowly.”
Her throat worked. Her gaze never leaving his, she moved.
The wagon shivered. And the adults tensed, waiting—a wheel squawked protest.
His heart hammered so loud she must hear it.
Eddie reached his side.
Jace’s fingers caught Dianne’s. His tight hold must be mashing her hand, but he wouldn’t—couldn’t—ease back. All that stood between them and certain death was this grasp. If the wagon tipped further, he would toss the pair free.
The shifting weight made the conveyance teeter as if uncertain to trust the trail or take the easy way and fall.
“Eddie, when I say so, you jump. But don’t move until then.”
“Do as the man says.” The words breathed from Dianne’s lips.
“Yes, Mama.”
“Good boy. Mind you jump as far as you can and then get to that bank of dirt.” Jace held Dianne’s gaze as firmly as he held her hand. “When he jumps, I’m going to yank you over the side. I will be rough, but it’s necessary.”
“I understand.”
Jace drew in a breath. “Are you ready?”
She nodded, still clinging to his eyes.
He offered her silent encouragement. Then he added something that would give her more. “May God protect you.”
“Amen.”
Another deep breath was taken, and then Jace gritted his teeth. He had to do this right. “On the count of three. One. Two.Three. Eddie, jump. Jump hard.” At the same time, Jace grabbed Dianne with both hands and tossed her from the wagon. Then he clung to the seat while the wagon, accompanied by creaks and groans, played seesaw.
He had to get off while he could. As the corner dipped, he launched himself toward the roadway, crashed close to Dianne, and lay motionless, struggling to catch his breath.
She crawled to his side. “Are you hurt? Say something. Jace.” She shook his shoulder.
“I’m fine.” He sat up, rubbing dirt from his sleeves and brushing his hand over his face to clean it. “Where’s Eddie?”
“I’s here.” The boy sat against the bank of dirt. Even in the shadows, his eyes were too big.
“You did good, boy.”
Eddie nodded. “I did good.”
Jace turned his attention back to Dianne. “You’re in one piece?”
