Dawn's Prelude (24 page)

Lydia stretched and yawned, looking again at the clock. It was nearly seven.

Zerelda could see Lydia’s impatience. “He’ll be here soon. If I did indeed hear someone coming, it would have to be him. He wouldn’t leave the horses out in the storm, so he’ll need time to care for them, as well. Don’t fret so.”

But a half hour later, Kjell had still not appeared. Lydia sipped the coffee Zerelda had given her and worried. “Where could he be?”

Rain was now pelting the house, and the wind had not calmed.

Lydia supposed Kjell might have decided to wait until the storm passed, but what if it lasted all night?

“He’ll be here when he can, Liddie. You mustn’t . . .” Zerelda fell silent. “Sounds like the baby is fussing.”

Dalton’s cry soon reached Lydia’s ears. “You do have good hearing, Zerelda.” She put the coffee aside and got to her feet. “I suppose he’s hungry again.”

Just then something hit the porch outside. Zerelda jumped to her feet. Lydia froze in place. Her aunt was already heading to where the Winchester hung by the door. “Might be some animal seeking shelter,” Zerelda told her.

“Don’t go out there. If it’s an animal, you certainly don’t want to have to fight it now—not with the storm,” Lydia said. Dalton began to cry harder, and she headed for the stairs.

“It could be a tree branch has broken off and hit the porch. I need to at least check it out. Don’t worry about me,” Zerelda said. “I’ve taken care of myself for a long many years.”

Lydia nodded. “I forget just how capable you are. But please, be careful.”

She headed upstairs as Zerelda began to pull open the door. The cold wind blew in, causing Lydia to pick up her pace. Slipping into her bedroom, Lydia left the door open and quickly lit one of the lamps.

Dalton soothed as she whispered and cooed to him. “Just a minute, sweet baby. Mama is here.”

A commotion from downstairs, however, drew Lydia’s attention. Zerelda was shouting at someone. Lydia stepped toward the open door and strained to listen. The sound of men’s voices rose, along with Zerelda’s insistence that they leave or she would shoot them.

Lydia put her hand to her mouth and eased into the hall. What kind of trouble was this? A shot rang out, and Lydia heard more shouting. She wanted to go to Zerelda’s aid, but her feet felt rooted to the floor. How could she help?

The revolver!

Kjell kept a gun in the bedroom. She would get it and defend her aunt. But Lydia had taken only two steps when another shot rang out, and Zerelda screamed. Lydia’s legs felt like lead weights as one of the men’s voices called, “Get the baby. Get him now.”

Her breath came in rapid gasps as she hurried into her bedroom and closed the door. She frantically searched for some way to stop whoever it was from entering, but there was no lock, no bar. She thought of trying to slide the dresser against the door and went to give it a shove. It was too heavy. She only managed to move it a few inches.

She heard the doors to the other rooms being opened and closed. She felt bile in the back of her throat. What was happening? Why were they after Dalton? Then a hideous thought came to mind: Marston. This was his doing. He was trying to take the baby from her—to force her to return to Kansas City, where he could control her.

She again tried to push the dresser. With a strength she didn’t know she possessed, she shoved it over before it caught on the rug. It now crossed the jamb by a small margin, blocking the door from opening at least for a bit. She went to get the revolver but it was gone. Kjell must have moved it. But where? There was no time to consider as someone began pounding on the door. The dresser began to shift. Hope faded.

Lydia frantically looked for a means of escape. The window was her only hope. She rushed to open it, wondering if she could ever manage to keep herself and Dalton safe on the slippery roof.

Struggling with the window, Lydia felt relief when it finally gave way and opened far enough for her and Dalton to make their escape. She was nearly blown backward by the wind and rain but gave it little thought. Instead she hurried to the bed and took up the quilt.

Lydia had barely made her way back to the cradle when the door finally gave way and the dresser was pushed aside. A large man came storming into the room.

“Give me the baby,” he said. His Russian accent was thick, and his blue eyes seemed to stare right through her.

“Who are you? Why have you come here?”

“The child.” He pointed to the cradle. “I want the child.”

“No!” Lydia cried, putting herself between the two. Dalton began to fuss at the sound of his mother’s frantic voice.

“You will wrap him warmly and give him to me.”

She was nearly hysterical by this point. It didn’t matter if he killed her—taking her baby would do that anyway. “Look.” She took a step forward. “Whatever Marston Gray is paying you, I will double—no, triple.”

The man’s expression told her she’d touched a nerve. Lydia hurried to continue. “He doesn’t have as much money as I do. I can get whatever you need.”

The man seemed to consider this for a moment, then laughed. “Anatolli!” a voice called from downstairs. “Are you coming? I’ve killed this woman—have you taken care of the other one?”

Lydia knew then that Marston’s plan was more hideous than she’d imagined. He didn’t intend to urge her to follow him back to Kansas City at all. He intended to take the child and have Lydia put to death. That way she couldn’t hurt him. She couldn’t point a finger or put the law on his tail.

“Bring him now.” The man’s insistence was followed with the appearance of a revolver. “You will do as I say. Tell your son farewell.”

“You can’t do this. You mustn’t,” she cried. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “He’s just an infant. He’ll die in that storm if you take him out.”

The man cocked the revolver. “Your time is up.”

Lydia saw him point the revolver not at her, but in the direction of Dalton. She rushed to put herself between the baby and the gun. A shot rang out and she felt as if something had punched her hard in the shoulder. Then there was another hit and a burning sensation in her neck. She stumbled back and grabbed the bedspread as she sank to the floor.

She tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Looking up into the cold expression of the man, she could only watch as he lifted Dalton from the cradle. He cradled the baby awkwardly— not entirely sure what to do next.

The light in the room grew dim, and Lydia dropped her gaze to find the front of her blouse covered in blood. She was dying.

She was dying and this man was stealing her child.

The darkness overcame her and she slumped over. “Kjell.”

Chapter 19

K
jell felt exhaustion and cold permeate his bones as the horses made their way in the icy rain toward the house. He would have loved to leave the horses and run for shelter, but he couldn’t be that cruel. The pair had served him faithfully for over five years and counted on him just as much as he did on them. Warmth and Lydia’s sweet affection would have to wait until the animals were cared for.

He was about to drive the wagon around to the horse stable when he noted the front door was wide open. Reining back on the lines, he waited a moment to see if someone was coming from the house, but no one appeared. Something was wrong. He sensed it immediately and set the brake. Reaching under the wagon bench, he took up his revolver. He’d carried it with him since learning about the Sidorovs being hired to set the fire at his mill.

He carefully approached the door of the house and tried to peer inside. He could neither see nor hear anyone stirring. He edged just inside the threshold and caught sight of a woman’s booted feet. Zerelda!

Throwing caution aside, he went to where the woman had fallen. Blood stained the floor beside her head. Kjell knelt and gently turned her face to see how badly she’d been injured. Zerelda moaned and struggled to open her eyes.

“Zee, what happened?”

She looked at him blankly for a moment.

“Can you hear me, Zee? What happened?” He patted her hand, hoping the contact might help bring her around.

She blinked hard several times. “I don’t know. There was some commotion and . . .” She shook her head.

“Just rest.” He jumped up and went to the kitchen drawer, where he knew he would find clean dish towels. Grabbing up several, he came back to Zee and pressed one against the wound.

“Looks like somebody hit you hard upside the head. There’s a pretty nasty gash and a lot of blood.”

“Blows to the head always bleed badly. I’ll be all right.”

Kjell glanced around for Lydia. There was no sign of his wife or child. “Zee, where’s Liddie? Did she try to go for help?”

“I don’t know.” Zerelda’s eyes opened wide. “Two men. They busted in. We were fighting, and I fired my rifle.”

“Then what happened? Where was Lydia?”

“I don’t know. I . . . everything went black.” Her expression contorted. “They wanted the baby.”

Kjell jumped up and ran for the stairs without another word.

There would only be one man who would try to steal the child.

Lydia would never allow for it, so he had probably taken her, as well.

The door to the bedroom was open and Kjell could see that the dresser had been pushed out of place. “Lydia? Liddie?”

Wind and rain rushed through the open window, giving Kjell hope. Maybe she had escaped. After all, there was no sign of either her or Dalton. Kjell rushed to the window and pushed it up all the way. He stuck his head outside but could see nothing. “Lydia!” he called out against the storm.

His heart raced and chest tightened. Where was she? Did Gray have her? He pulled back inside and closed the window. Wiping rain from his face, he turned back to survey the scene—and that was when he saw her. Crumpled there between the bed and the cradle, Lydia was covered in blood.

There was no time to react to the horror. He lifted her in his arms and carried her downstairs. He would load her and Zee in the wagon and get them to the hospital. Dr. Ensign would know what to do.

When he came down the stairs, Zerelda was already sitting on a chair. She held the towels to her head, but her eyes had cleared considerably. There was a noted look of shock when she realized that Lydia was lifeless in Kjell’s arms.

“Oh, dear Lord. Is she dead?”

“No, but she will be if we don’t get her help. I’m gonna put her in the back of the wagon, then I’ll come back for you.”

“I’ll get some blankets,” Zerelda said, trying to stand.

“Never mind. Just follow me if you’re able.” Kjell headed out the open door. “If not, I’ll carry you, too.”

“I’ll manage just fine. I’ll bring a lantern.”

The storm had lessened, and while it still poured rain, the winds had dissipated. Kjell placed Lydia on the soggy floor of the wagon and turned to help Zerelda into the back. “Tend her as best you can, Zee.” He took the lantern and tried to shield it from the rain, but even as he did, the flame flickered out.

“Can’t see much in this blackness, but I’ll do what I can.”

“Kjell, what of the baby? What about Dalton? Where is he?”

The baby! Kjell had been so concerned about Lydia that he’d completely forgotten about the child. He put aside the lantern and raced back into the house. He listened for any sound of the child.

The silence was almost deafening. Kjell tore through all of the upstairs rooms, then made his way downstairs and searched the area. Dalton was nowhere to be found.

Kjell left the house and bounded up into the wagon and grabbed the reins. “He’s not there.” He nearly forgot to release the brake as he slapped the backs of the horses. The brake eased off just as the horses began to pull. Kjell glanced over his shoulder at the women but could see very little. “Dalton’s gone.”

“Gone?” Zerelda called back. “How can he be gone?”

Kjell clenched his jaw. There was only one way as far as he was concerned, but explaining it to Zerelda just now wasn’t going to do any good.

“Just see to Lydia,” he commanded.

It felt as if the ride into town took forever. Muddy ruts caused the wagon wheels to slip and slide. In places the rain-soaked roadway threatened to engulf the wheels altogether, but somehow he managed to keep them moving.

Kjell took the last curve slightly faster than he should have and felt the wagon sliding away from the horses. Issuing a silent prayer, he reined back just enough to slow the animals and right the wagon.

Up ahead, he could see the lights of the hospital. There were also several uniformed men standing outside. “I need help!” he yelled.

The rain had finally stopped, but the temperature was dropping.

Kjell worried that Zee and Lydia were probably frozen by now.

The soldiers approached and quickly recognized Kjell. “What’s wrong?” one man called.

“My wife and her aunt have been wounded. Someone broke into the house.” He stepped over the back of the seat and into the wagon bed. “They need a doctor!”

The soldiers helped Zerelda from the wagon. Seeing she could walk with help, the man in charge issued an order for one of the privates to aid her into the building. Next, he turned to help lift Lydia from the wagon, but Kjell pushed him back.

“I’ve got her. You lead.”

By the time Kjell cleared the door, Mrs. Ensign, one of the doctors’ wives, was there pointing the way. “They’ve taken Zerelda to the dispensary. Follow me.”

They moved quickly down the west hall until they reached the end. Two orderlies followed behind with a long table. They assembled it in the middle of the room at the doctor’s instructions. Mrs. Ensign quickly covered it with a sheet and motioned to Kjell.

With great care, he deposited Lydia on the table and then stepped back. The scene was terrible. Blood was caked and clotted on her neck and blouse. She was as white as the sheet upon which she lay, and there was only the tiniest hint of her breathing.

Dr. Ensign joined them. He turned to the orderlies. “Clean Miss Rockford’s wounds while I see to Mrs. Lindquist.”

The men nodded and immediately went to where Zerelda sat. Kjell turned his attention back to Lydia. Dr. Ensign began carefully pulling away the fabric of her blouse. “Bring the scissors.” His wife went to fetch them while he cast a quick look up at Kjell. “Are you injured, too?”