Chapter Fifteen
WHEN RUTHANN LEFT NORAH’S, the sky had turned cloudy and summer seemed to have gone with the sun. Most of the town, save for one brave soul who stood outside the home across the road, had gone inside to warm fires and a good roof.
Ruthann drew the shawl Norah had lent her closer around herself as she stepped down to the street. The wind picked up and sliced straight through the knit shawl. Ruthann shivered. Perhaps she ought to have waited for Norah’s father to fetch their carriage. It had seemed silly, though, when she’d considered it while sitting inside her friend’s cozy home, particularly since it wasn’t all that far of a walk back to the studio.
Well, the only thing to do now was continue on. If she walked quickly, she would make it back home in no time at all.
Ruthann ducked her head against a strong gust and kept going, one foot in front of the other. If it began to rain, she could always duck into one of the shops or eateries that sat between here and the studio.
Heartened by that thought, she continued on.
She was halfway home when she had the strangest feeling that she wasn’t alone.Don’t be silly, she told herself. It was the middle of town, after all. Of course it made sense that others would be out.
Except they weren’t, not in this weather.
Her heart beating faster, Ruthann turned her head slightly. Not a soul was across the road. There was no one in front of her. Saying a quick prayer, she glanced behind her.
A man followed her at a close distance. And, unless she was mistaken, it was the same man she’d seen across the street when she left Norah’s house.
Perhaps he was simply headed elsewhere too. But as she passed two boardinghouses, a diner, the general store, and the jeweler’s, he continued behind her.
And he was growing closer.
Something was wrong. Ruthann knew it as well as she knew her own face in the mirror.
She walked even more quickly. It wasn’t that far now to the studio. She’d slip inside and lock the door before he could catch up with her.
She glanced back over her shoulder, needing to see him and yet hoping he didn’t notice that she knew he was there. He was gaining distance and growing closer to her.
The town post office was just ahead. She could go inside there. The man surely wouldn’t follow her. And if he waited outside, Mr. Doyle or one of his assistants would escort her home or fetch the sheriff.
Another gust of wind grabbed hold of the ends of Norah’s shawl, and Ruthann reached out to catch it before it flew away. But just as she clutched on to it, she felt a tug on it from the other side.
As she turned to see what it had caught on, the shawl wrapped around her like a cocoon. Her eyes found the source of the pull, and it wasn’t a tree branch or wayward piece of lumber.
It was the man who’d been following her.
“Let go!” Ruthann twisted to pull away, but the man was too strong for her. He propelled her around the side of the gunsmith’s, next to the post office. Ruthann fought and turned back and forth, finally ducking low enough to let the shawl come over her head.
The movement freed her left side, and with just another twist, the shawl would be off completely—and she could run.
But the man must have seen the possibility too. He reached out and grabbed hold of her arm, letting the shawl fall to the ground.
Her heart in her throat, Ruthann felt a scream rising inside. Just as she opened her mouth to let it out, the man pushed her against the side of the building and slapped a gloved hand over her open mouth.
