Hunter's Prize (35 page)

“Calm yourself, little gal. There’s no need to get fidgety.”

“Uh-huh. I’m ‘bout to show you fidgety.” She tilted her head. “Go on, do like I say and leave.”

Easing past Charlie, Denny raised his hand. “Dreadful sorry, but I can’t go just yet.”

She licked her bottom lip. “What you mean?”

“Listen, we’re not looking to hurt anybody.”

Her gaze drifted to the letter opener. “You ain’t lookin’ to hurt nobody? Is that what you jus’ said?” Glaring, she lifted the makeshift weapon higher.

He took another sliding step. “There’s something here that belongs to me, and I mean to have it. The sooner you help me find it, the quicker you’ll be shed of us.”

She blinked her confusion. “If you left a hat or cane or some-such here, why you don’t knock at the front door and ask?”

“No hat or cane, darlin’. The item in question is far more valuable.” He eased off the bottom step and moved to the side of the banister, giving her a clear shot at Charlie. “My friend here is about to go upstairs and have a look around, and there’s nothing you can do to stop him.”

Charlie’s eyes widened.

Denny gave him a firm nod.

Gripping the railing with white-knuckled hands, Charlie started to climb.

Falling into Denny’s trap, the maid lunged, aiming the crude knife at Charlie’s back.

Denny’s hand shot out and cruelly gripped her wrist.

She screamed, and the opener clattered to the floor.

Bending at the waist, he picked it up and held it to her throat. “Where’s the boy?”

Her body heaved against him. “M–Masta Ceddy? What you want with him?”

He gave her a shake. “Answer the question.”

“He ain’t here.”

“Sure he is.”

“No, suh. I swear it.”

“You want me to tell you how I know you’re lying? Charlie and me just saw his old auntie and the hired girl in town. The brat wasn’t with ‘em.”

Her chest rose and fell in a sob. “Don’t you go callin’ Little Man no brat.”

Losing patience, Denny pushed the point a little harder against her skin. “Tell me.”

She gasped. “Masta Ceddy gone missin’ again, and we cain’t find him.”

Releasing her, he spun her around. “What do you mean ‘missing’?”

“He runs off on occasion.” A sudden thought sparked in her eyes. “Miss Priscilla gone for help. Half the county gon’ show up here any minute. Search parties and such.” Her throat bobbed. “It won’t do for you two to be caught inside when they come.”

Denny cursed and gripped her shoulder. “If you value your life, take me to his room.” He shook her hard. “Go on! Which way?”

Stumbling over her feet, she struggled to the stairs, slid past Charlie, and clawed her way up the banister.

They fell in behind her and followed her to the first door on the right. Swinging it wide, she hurried inside and huddled in the corner.

Denny’s gaze darted to the cheery quilt on the bed, the bright rugs, and the scattered toys. Confident she’d brought them to the right place, he took an anxious breath. “He had a rock when he came here.”

She frowned. “A rock?”

“That’s right.” He made a circle with his finger and thumb. “About this big.”

“Yessuh?”

His heart thudded in his chest. “White it was.”

She nodded. “Yessuh?”

“Do you know where he kept it?”

She shook her head.

Bile rising in his throat, Denny held the letter opener over her head. “You’d best start figuring it out.”

Leaping like a gazelle, she shot across the room to a large upright chest. Opening the lid, she tilted the contents onto the floor. Reaching for a shelf behind her, she swept several crates over the edge with her arm. They fell with a crash that emptied their contents. Dashing to the bed, she scrambled beneath it and pulled out several square display boxes. Crying now, she dumped them onto the mountain of stones in the middle of the room. “There be more in the closet,” she panted. “You want me to fetch them?”

Denny stared in disbelief. Rocks of every imaginable color, shape, and size lay in a heap at his feet. “What the devil is this?”

“Little Man’s collection, suh.”

“This ain’t a blessed collection. It’s a quarry!”

Backing away from his shouting, she cowered next to the bed.

Denny hooked his thumb at Charlie. “Get started, mate. This lot could take all night.”

“Right, Den,” Charlie said, dropping to his knees.

Casting the maid a warning glare, Denny knelt to join him. “Best hurry, too. If what she said is true, we ain’t got much time.”

Delilah met the carriage before it rolled to a stop, waving her arms overhead and screaming.

Priscilla gasped and turned a sickly shade.

Addie bailed out the side without waiting for the driver’s assistance and ran to grip Delilah’s arms. “What’s wrong? Have you found him?”

She wailed an answer Addie couldn’t understand and fell sobbing onto her shoulder.

Fearing the worst, Addie turned flooded eyes to Priscilla. “I can’t understand what she’s saying.”

Climbing down, Priscilla rushed to her maid and spun her around. “Delilah, get hold of yourself. Tell us what happened.”

“They come in the house,” she shrilled. “I took your letter opener and tried to make ‘em leave, but they wouldn’t go.”

“Who?” Priscilla shook her. “Who came in?”

“Those two men. The same ones who come earlier today askin’ for to let a room.”

Priscilla flinched. “They came back?”

“Yes’m.”

“Whatever did they want?”

Delilah stamped her foot. “Aren’t you listenin’? They ain’t made no social call. They broke in at the back door. Went up to Little Man’s room. Threatened to kill me ‘less I helped them find one of Ceddy’s rocks.”

A chill crept up Addie’s spine. She suspected which stone they wanted. But why?

“One?” Priscilla’s mouth lifted in a smirk. “Out of all he has? How curious. Did they find it?”

Addie knew the answer before Delilah spoke. Unless they had Ceddy, they hadn’t located the white rock. She shuddered. Or her pendant.

“They ain’t found it, but not for lack of trying. They tore up most every room in the house.”

Her eyes wide, Priscilla stared over her shoulder at the mansion. “They ransacked my home? Where are they now?”

“They left once I told them Mr. Pearson mos’ likely took Little Man.”

Addie’s stomach lurched. “Why did you tell them that?”

“I had to, Miss Addie.” Her bottom lip trembled. “In all my days, I never been so scared. I jus’ wanted them to leave.”

Addie smoothed her back. “Don’t fret now. In your place, I might’ve done the same.”

Pressing her temples, Priscilla stared at the ground. “None of this makes a lick of sense. I can’t keep up anymore. Ceddy’s missing. Pearson’s gone. Strange men are rummaging through my house …” Her frightened eyes begged Addie for answers. “What on earth is happening?”

“Calm yourself, dear lady,” Addie said, taking her elbow. “Come inside, and I’ll brew you a cup of tea.”

Priscilla tensed. “I’m a little afraid.”

“It’s all right now,” Delilah said. “They gone.”

“I don’t mean them.” She sighed. “I’m scared to see the damage they’ve done.”

Addie’s fingers tightened on her waist. “We have to go in, Priscilla. Suppose they left behind a clue to finding Ceddy.”

She inhaled sharply. “Do you think it’s possible?”

“I don’t know, but let’s go see.” Tugging gently, Addie coaxed her into motion.

Breathing harder as they approached the door, Priscilla allowed them to lead her inside.

Along the downstairs hall, drawers were pulled out, curio cabinets emptied. The parlor fared no better. Cushions from the sofa and chairs littered the floor, and a music box from the mantel lay in pieces.

Back in the hall, Priscilla’s shoulders relaxed from around her ears. “It’s awful, but nothing we can’t put to rights.”

Her eyes bulging, Delilah shook her head. “You ain’t seen Masta Whitfield’s den yet. They busted it up pretty bad and stole all his guns.”

Priscilla gasped. “They took my brother’s weapons?”

“Sho’ did. Broke the glass and reached right in. Left nothin’ behind but an empty case.”

Priscilla moaned, and tears slid down her cheeks.

Delilah waved her hand. “That’s nothing. Wait till you see up them stairs.”

“Oh Delilah, don’t tell me.”

She shook her head. “I won’t, ‘cause I cain’t describe it.”

Clutching Addie’s sleeve, Priscilla stared through the rails of the banister. “I can’t bear this, Addie. Go with me, dear.”

Addie squeezed her hand. “Reverend Stroud and his search party should be here soon. If he’s able to round up men to look for Ceddy, surely he can enlist the women to help us clean up.” She rubbed Priscilla’s arm. “Just remember … the only things irreplaceable are our loved ones.”

Priscilla nodded, a wistful glint in her eyes. “You’re right, of course. And wise beyond your years.”

Addie didn’t feel wise. She just felt terrified for Pearson and Ceddy.

Upstairs, she crept over the threshold of Ceddy’s room and groaned. Behind her, Priscilla cried aloud.

Ceddy’s entire collection lay scattered over the floor in a rainbow jumble of rocks and stones. His bed had been stripped, the mattress slit open and the stuffing pulled out. They had dumped his clothing out of his drawers, smashed and broken his toys to bits. No books remained in the bookcases. They’d been pulled out and tossed aside, their spines cut open and covers ripped off. Ceddy’s beloved collection boxes lay splintered and empty.

“Merciful heaven,” Priscilla said. “What could be so important in a child’s room?”

Her hands at her hips, Addie turned full circle. “It would have to be something quite valuable, wouldn’t it?” Her gaze jumping to the broken boxes, she pointed. “Ceddy had a few precious stones in his collection, didn’t he? A sapphire, an emerald, and a few others?”

Priscilla nodded. “Yes, but they were very small stones. Surely not worth much.” She sighed. “Definitely not worth all this destruction.”

Bending to pick up one shattered container, she blinked back tears. “These were far more costly in terms of sentimental value. Ceddy’s father made them with his own hands.”

Addie squeezed her shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”

She lifted her chin. “We’d best go see the damage to the rest of the house.”

Addie nodded. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

She shook her head. “No, but I suppose we must. It can’t be any worse than this.”

Still hovering near the door, Delilah grunted. “I wouldn’t place no wagers, Miss Priscilla. Them vicious dogs turned desperate by the time they reached your rooms.”

Moaning, Priscilla let Addie lead her down the hall.

P
earson pulled the wagon to a stop. Puffing his cheeks, he blew a frustrated breath. “I don’t want to push her any more, Theo. She’s limping pretty bad.”

They sat staring at the horse’s twitching ears, as if waiting for her opinion on the matter.

Theo twisted his mouth to gnaw on the side. “The lake is only a mile or so farther. You don’t think she’ll make it?”

Giving it a few seconds’ thought, Pearson shrugged. “We’re talking about a horse, partner. If you want to know if the patch in the bottom of a dinghy will hold, I’m your man. But an animal …” He gave Theo a sideways glance. “You should know what to do. You have a horse.”

Theo’s finger shot up. “Papa has a horse. I just borrow him. He gets a limp, I take him home.”

Pearson leaned forward to think. “She’s been hobbled for a while now. If the extra mile will cripple her, I won’t risk it. The liveryman will put her down. You want her death on your conscience?”

Theo held up his hands. “Then what are we supposed to do? If you haven’t noticed, we’re out in the middle of nowhere.”

“I can see that.”

“It’ll be dark in a couple more hours.”

Pearson squinted at the low-riding sun. “I see that, too.”

“We need time to set up camp, build a fire, heat some food.”

“I agree. Do you have a suggestion?”

“Yes, I say we press on,” Theo bellowed, banging his fists on his knees.

Pearson caught his wrist. “Did you hear that?”

Theo’s head swung around. “Hear what?”

“A voice.”

Theo smiled. “Yes, mine. Echoing off the trees.”

Pearson shook his head. “This was close by. Like the moan of a woman or child.” Shifting his weight, he gazed behind him, a chill going up his back. “I’m almost positive I—”

Theo nudged him in the side with his elbow.

Irritated, he turned. “What?”

Struck dumb, Theo pointed.

It took Pearson a few seconds to see him.

A man had stepped out of the woods, so wild in appearance he blended with the surroundings. His hair, mostly dark but streaked with strands of gray, curled behind his ears and from under his hat. The beard and mustache he sported appeared dark at the roots but frosted with white. A pair of baggy denim pants covered his legs, and a shirt stitched together from hides draped his torso. He balanced a muzzle-loading shotgun over his shoulder.

It crossed Pearson’s mind, a bit late, that they carried no weapons at all. He raised a hand in greeting, boasting a confidence he didn’t feel. “Afternoon, sir.”