Unforsaken (19 page)

She turned, suppressing the urge to run. The last thing she wanted was to appear frightened or threatened. She'd barely gone ten yards before a hand clamped around her arm and whirled her around to meet the glaring face of one of the intruders.

"You just forget all about that sheriff, lady,” he warned, “or I'll give you something to tell him about besides burglars."

She understood him perfectly. Panic welled up inside, and she swallowed back a scream, desperately trying to remain calm. “Let go of me."

"Let her go, man,” his accomplice urged. “We ain't getting paid enough to get hanged."

His grip tightened on Olivia's arm. “We ain't gonna get hanged."

Her hard-won control snapped, and she fought desperately to escape his hold, but her scream was muffled beneath his palm. A narrow catwalk ran between the office and the gin and warehouse, and another branched off from there toward the mill.

Her captor turned toward the mill and dragged her along with him.

Once inside, she saw him raise his fist but couldn't duck fast enough. The blow left her staggering and he hauled her to the back of the warehouse. The second blow sent her tumbling to the ground like a rag doll. Vaguely aware of the two men looming over her, Olivia fought to remain conscious.

"Damn it, I told you, I don't want no part of a killing."

"You want to leave her here to send the law after us?"

"Well, what can we do?"

"We finish the job we came here to do. What happens to her will be an accident ... an accident we don't know anything about. Come on."

Olivia knew she had to get out of there, but she couldn't let them know she was conscious. Her head throbbed and she couldn't move without causing the pain to worsen. She waited until she heard them turn around and their footsteps grew fainter, but she could no more sit up than she could stand up. She slumped forward, hoping she could crawl to the stairs, but spots swirled before her eyes and blackness enveloped her.

Dusky shadows followed Matthew as he made his way up the walk toward the Chandler house. He and Olivia had decided to tell Sarah about their decision together, and he couldn't wait to see her reaction. The child absolutely adored Olivia, and he had no doubt how Olivia felt about Sarah.

Before his foot touched the top step, the front door burst open and Miss Eula stared out at him. “Where's Olivia?"

"Olivia?” he repeated. “Isn't she home?"

"No, she hasn't returned since this morning.” Motioning for him to be quiet, Eula stepped out onto the porch and closed the door. “I thought she might be with you."

"No, ma'am. I saw her earlier today, but she was still at the gin when I headed back home."

"I'm worried about her, Matthew. Please, go into town and see if she's all right."

No sooner than the mill came into sight, Matt knew something was horribly wrong. He could see men scurrying to and from the building, hear them shouting and cursing, and then he smelled the smoke. He swore under his breath and urged his horse into a run.

He stopped two men, asking about Olivia, but no one had seen her.

"Miss Chandler? She wouldn't be here this time of night."

"Yes, she would."

He shouldered his way through the crowd, shouting once again, “Has anyone seen Olivia?"

Inside her office, he found her shawl and her reticule, and his heart sank. A ledger lay open on the desk, as if she expected to return to it. He swore out loud. She shouldn't be working in the cotton gin in the first place.

He made his way back outside, pushing through the men thronged in the street. Most were passing buckets of water in a feeble attempt to douse the fire. Thick black smoke billowed outside when he opened the door, but he dashed inside, covering his face with a handkerchief. He didn't waste breath shouting for her and scrambled to his knees to avoid breathing any more smoke than he could help.

He caught sight of her sleeve. Her body was limp, her face covered with soot, and a nasty cut marred her forehead.

He shook her slightly, but she made no response, and he felt her throat to find she was barely breathing. He scooped her into his arms and hurried through the thick smoke.

Once outside, several men rushed forward, offering to help, but Matt would not release her until he knew she was safe. Dr. McComb shouted for him to get her inside the physician's office, and Matt rushed inside, placing her on a narrow cot.

The old doctor felt her pulse and lifted her eyelids, all the while sternly instructing her to answer him when he spoke to her. She broke into a fit of coughing and tried to roll over on her side, but Matthew managed to hold her still. Dr. McComb listened to her heart and lungs.

"Olivia, answer me,” he ordered. “Do you know where you are?"

She nodded and coughed again.

"Say it, girl. I need to know if you can speak."

"Yes, I know where I am,” she gasped, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper. “How did I get here?"

"Try to remember what happened.” Matthew held her hand. “What were you doing in that warehouse?"

"She can answer those questions later,” the doctor interrupted. “Right now she needs to rest. All that matters is that she's alive."

"Olivia!” Eula gasped, rushing into the room and sinking to her knees beside her niece. “Oh, sweetheart, are you all right?"

She nodded weakly. “Where is Sarah?"

Eula gently touched her fingers to the angry gash across Olivia's forehead. “She's just fine. I left her with Maddy."

"Now, folks, I know you're worried about Olivia,” Dr. McComb spoke up, trying to keep her calm, “but I want all of you to wait outside while I tend to that cut and make sure there aren't any other injuries."

Olivia felt as if she'd been run over by a team of mules. Her head throbbed, but her vision was clear. She shuddered to think how close she'd come to burning alive, but she was more troubled by the knowledge that her life was still in danger. Once her attackers learned that she had survived, they might decide to finish her off.

Someone had sent them, just as someone had sent the men to burn the Flemings’ barn, and another surge of anger bolted through her at the thought. And she would be damned if she would let a pair of thugs intimidate her. The trick would be finding out who had sent them.

Eula eased inside the room and placed a tray on the bedside table. “You really need to eat something."

Olivia only nodded.

"I know you don't want to tell me, but I want to know what's happening at the mill. Are you in some sort of trouble?"

"Of course not,” she answered, ignoring the doubt in her aunt's eyes. She took a cup from the tray. “I was only working late and had the misfortune of being the one to discover the fire. I should have sent for help rather than try to investigate alone."

"You should have been at home.” Eula studied her. “Just what exactly is Rodger pouting about?"

Before she could answer, the door to her bedroom opened barely an inch and she heard Sarah's timid whisper, “Can I come in?"

"Of course, honey."

The door swung open wide and Sarah dashed inside the room. She came to a halt just before reaching the bed, as if unsure of her surroundings. “Nobody let me see you when you came home."

"I'm sorry about that.” Olivia held out her hand. “I'm fine now and you can see me all you want to."

Sarah hesitated, and her reluctance gored Olivia. The child's lip trembled slightly. “Daddy said you got hurt."

"Not bad, honey. Just a little bit.” Olivia sat up on the bedside to prove her words and held out her arms. “I'm just fine."

Sarah lunged into her embrace, clinging to her as if her life depended on it. Olivia stroked her hair and whispered, “Don't cry, sweetie, please don't cry."

"I don't want you to go to heaven,” she sobbed. “Stay here and take care of me."

"Oh, Sarah,” she managed, though her throat tightened around the words. “Honey, did you think I was going to die?"

"I saw Daddy put you on the bed, and your eyes were closed, and you didn't answer me when I called.” The words came in a rush of sobs and hiccups. “He said you were just sleeping, but you always wake up when I need you."

Olivia glanced toward her aunt, hoping for a sign that things hadn't really been that bad, but Eula turned away and wiped her eyes.

"The doctor gave me some medicine that made me sleep,” she explained calmly, horrified to think of the image she must have presented to a child who'd already seen the death of a loved one. “That's why I didn't hear you."

Sarah leaned back and studied Olivia's face, doubt still clouding her eyes. She raised trembling fingers to the puffy bruises along one side of Olivia's face. She tried not to wince when the child touched her cheek, and she could just imagine how wretched her appearance must be.

"The bruises will go away in a few days,” she promised. “I'll be right as rain."

"Don't you go back there,” Sarah pleaded. “Promise you'll stay home where you won't get hurt."

"Sarah ... honey, I can't..."

She was grateful when the door opened and Maddy made her way inside. Grateful, that is, for a moment. Maddy studied her with undisguised censure and disapproval. “I told you. You got no business down at that place. Maybe now you'll believe me."

With a jerk of her head toward Sarah, Olivia said, “Let's discuss the matter some other time."

"The sheriff is downstairs and wants to discuss the matter right now,” Maddy informed her. “What do you want me to tell him?"

Eula didn't wait for Olivia's answer. “Tell him she simply isn't able to see anyone."

"Says he needs to talk to her, and he'll come upstairs if she can't come down."

"In her bedroom?” Eula blanched. “Good heavens, what sort of heathen is the man?"

"It's all right.” Olivia eased out of bed and slipped her dressing robe over her nightgown. “I can manage getting downstairs if it means preventing a scandal."

The sheriff was waiting in the foyer, and his stunned expression told Olivia just how odd a sight it must be to see one woman being led downstairs by two others and a child.

"Miss Chandler,” he said by way of greeting, “I'm sorry to trouble you. I know this must be a difficult time."

"And I'm sure your questions are very important or you wouldn't be here."

Relief washed over his face that she understood and he nodded. “I only need a few minutes of your time."

"Let's go into the parlor,” she suggested, feeling somewhat light-headed. “I think I'd be better off sitting down while we talk."

"Of course."

She settled herself on the divan while he remained standing. Under great protest, Sarah had accompanied Maddy to the kitchen.

"I need to know if you noticed anything unusual last night."

"You mean besides my warehouse being on fire?"

He smiled and started to speak, but the sounds of footsteps silenced him. Matthew appeared inside the doorway, and she smiled, grateful for his reassuring presence.

"Miss Chandler, we found evidence of a deliberate break-in. The fire was no accident."

Matthew's expression grew grim with concern and she could feel both men waiting for her answer.

"I'm sure I don't—"

"Isn't it rather unusual for you to be at the mill so late?"

Her gaze snapped back to the sheriff, and she found the accusation in his eyes as well as his words. “There were papers needing my attention."

"Nothing that couldn't wait until morning?"

"Tell him the truth, Olivia.” Eula marched into the parlor and settled herself beside her niece. “Tell him."

Matthew stepped forward. “Tell him what?"

"I interrupted two men in the process of setting the fire."

"What?” Matthew demanded. “Why didn't you tell me?"

"Did you recognize these men?” the sheriff asked.

She shook her head in answer to the sheriff's question, and struggled to think of an answer to Matthew's. She prayed the men were long gone by now and their connection, if any, to Rodger wouldn't be discovered.

"I didn't want anyone to know,” she said matter-of-factly.

"Olivia, for God's sake, they tried to kill you!"

"And everyone will think they did more than just that,” she countered. “My injuries were minor and the damage was slight. I won't have everyone in the county speculating over the ... extent of their attack on me."

The sheriff cleared his throat and nodded. “Most times a woman doesn't fair very well in a situation like that."

"Well, I managed to escape with nothing worse than a few bruises and I want the matter forgotten."

"If you had said something earlier, they most likely would have been caught."

"And then what?” she demanded. “A trial? That's out of the question."

Matthew studied the charred lumber scattered across the back lot of the gin. Men from the mill were busy dismantling the damaged part of the building and placing the blackened boards into a pile to be hauled away.

He couldn't forge the picture of Olivia lying lifeless on the floor, barely visible with all the smoke. If he had been five minutes later finding her, she would no doubt have been dead. Yet, all she could think of was her reputation.

"I had to see it with my own eyes."

Matt turned to find Rodger Kirk winding his way through the rubble-strewn lot, gaping at the burned building. “But I still can't believe it."

"Believe it,” Matt said more to himself. “And be thankful it wasn't worse."

"Yes, indeed. It's a good thing someone noticed the fire in time.” Rodger rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Half of this year's cotton is already baled and waiting in the warehouse. This county would have been ruined if it had all gone up in flames."

"I'm talking about Olivia.” Matt had always considered Rodger irritating.

"Olivia?"

"She was inside the warehouse,” he said.

"Good heavens!” Rodger's face paled visibly and his eyes widened in alarm. “Is she ... all right?"

"By some miracle, yes. She's going to be fine."

"What in the world was she doing down here at that time of night?"