Dorothy Garlock (26 page)

“I just can’t… believe that he’d do… such a thing,” she stammered.

“Look at my face!” Cole barked. “He can do exactly such a thing!”

The countless bruises and welts on Cole’s face throbbed angrily, a painful reminder of the vicious beating he had received
only the night before. Somehow, he had managed to limp his way back home, finally collapsing on his bed with the scant comfort
offered by a wet washcloth pressed gingerly to his aching face. He’d been unable to sleep a wink, tossing fitfully from both
the soreness of his wounds and the beating that had been inflicted on his pride. All night and early into the dawn, he’d wondered
about Sophie’s reaction, not only to the condition of his face but also to the questions he knew he would have to ask. Now
he had the answer and it was proving just as painful.

Still, Cole knew that he was being too hard on Sophie; with the way his voice was rising, it was as if he were blaming her
for what had happened to him. It undeniably rattled him that even after she had gotten a good look at his bruises, she still
was reluctant to disclose his attacker’s identity.

“Just tell me his name, Sophie,” Cole said softly, his hand reaching tenderly to her own. “He’s one of the hooded men that
attacked your family. There’s no reason for you to protect him.”

Slowly, Sophie’s eyes rose to meet his and, in that moment, Cole knew that his words had reached her. She nodded as tears
streaked down her cheeks. “You’re right. If he’s responsible for what happened to you, if he’s in league with a man like Ellis
Watts, then there’s nothing that I can do for him.”

Sophie told Cole all about Graham Grier; about how they had been close for a long time, friends from nearly their first meeting.
She spoke of how that friendship had changed in Graham’s eyes and blossomed into something more, of how he had come to her
and laid his heart bare, professing feelings that she wasn’t able to return. With pain in her eyes, she explained how hurt
she had been at the revelation that Graham had been involved in the burning of her family’s barn, of how she had incredulously
asked him about it in the diner and of how he had refused to answer.

“Why would he be involved with a man like Ellis Watts?” Cole asked.

“I just don’t know!” Sophie exclaimed. “I can’t understand what would cause Graham to follow along with men like that! When
we were children, he was never cruel, never hurtful. He never showed anything, any sign that would lead me to believe that
he would end up this way!”

“Do you think it has something to do with you rejecting his advances?”

“No… no, it can’t be the reason,” Sophie answered, but Cole could clearly see from the way she hesitated that she wasn’t convinced
of the truth of her words. Based on how Graham had lashed into him with his fists and the words that he had spoken when doing
so, Cole was certain that her rejection had played a large part.

“Tell me what happened,” Sophie urged yet again.

Though he knew that his words would pain her, Cole recounted the details of the attack outside the school. He told her about
how he had felt he was being followed, first outside the tavern and finally in front of his soon-to-be classroom. He spoke
of how he had called out his pursuer, only to find himself on the receiving end of a furious attack, replete with nearly as
many hurtful slurs as bone-rattling punches.

“Are you sure that it was Graham who attacked you?” Sophie asked.

“It was him,” he answered simply.

“And he was by himself?”

“I thought at first that there might have been more than one man following me,” Cole admitted. “But in the end, it was only
Graham.”

Though it pained him to admit to having been outdone by one man, Cole knew he had simply been caught off guard. When Graham
Grier had exploded from the bushes and lit into him, it had taken only a split second for the man to gain the upper hand.
If they were to meet again, Cole swore he would never let his guard down.

“Did Graham say anything to you?” she asked. “Did he give you any idea why he was doing such a thing?”

Cole was reluctant to answer Sophie’s questions truthfully; it was quite clear to him that she was having difficulty digesting
what Graham had done. The murderous words that he had spoken while unleashing his furious assault would undoubtedly upset
her further. To withhold Graham’s brutal words could only spare her that pain.

“If I see you with her again, I’ll kill you.”

“All he said was that I should stay away from you.”

Sophie gasped. “There was a threat, too, wasn’t there? It wasn’t just advice.”

“There was, but that doesn’t matter,” Cole explained. “Since I’ve already gone against his advice, it doesn’t leave us with
much time to act.”

“So what do you suppose we should do?” Sophie wondered.

“What choice do we have? We need to go to the police.”

“No! We can’t! My father—”

“Do you think that this is just going to go away?” Cole asked, cutting Sophie off midsentence. “Do you think that after attacking
me these men are just going to stop? The next time it’s going to be your father who is beaten, or maybe they’ll choose to
go after your brother. Either way, unless we do something, it will happen again! Is it going to take someone being killed
before you realize that this has to stop?”

“You gave me your word,” she sobbed, her tears falling freely.

“I wasn’t lying to you, Sophie,” he explained, his voice grave. “But we would be fools to think that these men aren’t going
to strike again. After what they’ve already done to your family, you couldn’t have believed that they were just going to stand
aside and let you go on with your lives, could you?”

Sophie remained silent, her gaze evasive. Over their last few weeks together, Cole had noticed that she had let her guard
down a bit, that she had convinced herself that the worst was over. She’d allowed herself to become comfortable and complacent.

But from the first moment that Cole had looked into Ellis Watts’s face, his green eyes filled with a deep malice, the precariousness
of their situation had been obvious to him. They were not safe! The threat that faced them all was still there, but had simply
gone into hiding, biding its time, waiting for the opportunity to rear its ugly head. That time appeared to be now.

“We need to go to the police,” Cole repeated.

“Cole, I—” she started but quickly fell silent, her moist eyes searching his own as if she were weighing whether to expose
her words. When she finally spoke, her voice was nearly as soft as a whisper. “I know you believe what you’re saying, and,
quite frankly, I find it hard to argue, especially after what happened to you,” she said. “But I still want to talk to Graham
first, to try to make some sense of just why he’s behaving this way. Please, Cole, let me at least try.”

He was about to argue his point further, to try to explain to Sophie that there was no way he was going to allow her to speak
with the very man who had attacked him just hours earlier, when a muffled scream reached him. The sound momentarily startled
Cole.

“What in the devil was that?”

“Where did—” Sophie stammered in confusion.

“The store,” he answered simply, already making his way in the door, Sophie following on his heels.

Back inside the hardware store, Cole found the two middle-aged women who had been looking at iceboxes standing frozen in place.
One raised a shaky arm and pointed. Cole followed their direction but could see nothing save the open door to the storeroom
below.

“What happened?” he asked. “Where’s my father?”

“He… he… just collapsed…” one of the women managed to stammer.

“Your father,” the other woman said, her gloved hand rising to flutter before her face. “He was going… to show us some new
pans… he said that they’d just arrived, but…”

“He had only made it to the door,” the first woman continued, picking up the story where her companion had left off. “He seemed…
to stumble… like he was dizzy, and then… he just fell…”

“Oh, Cole,” Sophie whispered behind him.

Suddenly, the horrible truth of what the women were telling him sank in.

As quickly as he could manage, he went over to the open door and looked down the stairs. There, lying in a heap, was his father.
Robert Ambrose had previously looked to be the vision of good health, but he now appeared small and frail. His body was awkwardly
draped over the last couple of steps, a pool of dark blood spreading from the spot where his head had struck the floor.

B
LOOD POUNDED FURIOUSLY
in Cole’s ears at the sight of his father lying motionless at the foot of the stairs.

“Get the doctor, Sophie. Run to Dr. Palmer’s office,” he urged, his voice trembling. “It’s just around the corner. Bring him
back as fast as you can! Hurry!”

Sophie followed his directions, whipping open the front door and hurrying out into the sunlight. Fixated on his father and
unaware whether the two middle-aged women had stayed in the store or if they had left, Cole faced the nightmares that had
been plaguing him for most of his days.

Even though it had been more than ten years since the fateful day that his mother had fallen down the tall staircase of their
home, the memory of discovering her broken body still haunted him. The image of her, lying just as his father lay now, badly
hurt and seemingly beyond his reach, was one that he could not erase. When he allowed himself to remember that moment, he
was forced to recall his own impotence, his failure to reach her in time, and the pain of his loss. Now he found himself faced
with the same dilemma once again.

Taking a tentative step onto the stairs, he steadied himself before forcing his handicapped leg to move forward.

“Dad? Are you all right?” he called, but his father did not stir.

Cole struggled to keep from toppling headlong down the stairs. He would be no good to anyone if he were to take a fall of
his own. Patience was a virtue he didn’t seem to have enough of; twice his twisted foot slipped off a step and he only maintained
his balance by gripping the rickety railing.

“One step at a time, Cole,” he warned himself.

Finally he arrived at the bottom of the stairs, kneeling at his father’s side and gently pulling the man’s bleeding head into
his lap. A deep pair of cuts had been opened up at the top of the man’s scalp, crimson blood pouring forth with little sign
of stopping. Cole did his best to staunch it with his own shirt. Robert was still breathing, his chest rhythmically rising
and falling, albeit shallowly, but he had been knocked unconscious by the fall. In his current state, his father seemed so
frail, so old. The evidence of his vulnerability was frightening.

“Dad, can you hear me?” Cole asked, but received no answer.

The reality of the situation was grim; there was no way he could carry his father back up the steps. Cole cursed his leg’s
deformity. If only he were a healthy man, if only he weren’t a crippled failure, then things might be different…

All that he could do was wait and hope that help would arrive in time. Unlike when he had managed to reach his mother’s side
and been unable to go for help, he now had Sophie racing toward the doctor’s office.

“Hurry, Sophie,” he whispered. “Please hurry!”

Sophie raced out the hardware store’s front door, leaped down the steps in one treacherous bound, and dashed down the street
just as fast as her legs could carry her. Panic held a tight grip on her heart, urging her forward. The sight of Cole’s father
lying in a growing pool of his own blood had chilled her and she found she couldn’t help but fear the worst.

“Faster,” she willed herself. “Run faster!”

Rounding the corner next to the post office and running the short distance to the doctor’s office, Sophie burst through the
door gulping large gasps of air. It hadn’t been a long distance to run, but the burden of her fear and apprehension had been
exhausting to carry. She imagined that she was the one who looked to be in dire need of medical attention.

Philip Palmer stepped out of his examining room and regarded her curiously. Victory’s lone doctor, middle-aged, with a thick
paunch circling his midsection, charcoal gray hair swept casually over a round face, Dr. Palmer’s ever-watery eyes carried
an air of sympathy that was equally evident in the gentle way in which he cared for his patients; given the current emergency,
Sophie was thankful that he didn’t appear to have anyone else requiring his assistance.

“Sophie?” he asked, concern written large on his round face. “Whatever is the matter, dear?”

“You need… you need to come…” she gasped, the words caught in her throat so tightly that she couldn’t dislodge the ones that
she needed. “You need… to come… with me… There’s been a…”

“What happened?” Dr. Palmer pressed, his expression suddenly anxious. He stepped toward her, placing his hands upon her shoulders,
steadying her. “Is someone hurt?”

Sophie furiously nodded her head, hoping that gestures would succeed where words failed. “It’s… it’s Robert Ambrose…” she
finally managed. “He’s had a… fall and is… hurt…”

“Where is he? Where did it happen?”

“At the… at the hard…”

“Is he at his store?”

“Yes…”

Without any further hesitation, the doctor snatched up his small medical bag and rushed for the door. Though emotionally and
physically spent, Sophie did her best to hurry along behind him.

She could only silently pray that they would arrive in time.

Cole did his best to wait patiently, his father’s damaged head cradled in his arms, but his eyes kept darting back to the
top of the stairs, ever hopeful that Sophie would suddenly appear with the doctor in tow. Every passing second seemed as painfully
slow as if it were an hour. He kept the hem of his shirt pressed tightly to his father’s bleeding scalp as his fingers smoothed
the man’s thinning hair away from the syrupy blood.

“Dad?” Cole asked over and over. “Dad, can you hear me?”