Ravenwood(11)

“You climbed out of that yourself?” Caleb asked, indicating the carriage with his head.

“Yes,” Elinore replied, already moving to the front of the carriage where she knew Thistle must still be trapped. “Thistle? It’s Miss Reed. I’ve returned with assistance.” Elinore crouched down in the mud, resting on her knees before dropping to her hands, trying not to think about the pain in her arm. She bent low, her eyes searching for the driver. She heard a low, quiet sound that could have been the wind in the trees or might have been Thistle. She wasn’t sure.

“He’s trapped under there?” Caleb came to bend down low beside her and she nodded tightly. Her eyes tracked over the wet earth, unsure how much was rain and how much was blood. She saw Caleb’s nose twitch slightly and he too stared down at the ground.

“Thistle,” he called out. “It’s Caleb.”

“Mr. Caleb? Miss Reed?”

Thank God, thought Elinore. She feared she would come back and find the poor man dead. She exhaled a shaky breath. Thistle’s voice was quiet and weak, but he was still alive. Though she was low to the ground and pressed close against the wreckage, she had to strain to hear him.

“I told you I would return with assistance,” Elinore said, smiling as she spoke, hoping to infuse her words with some kindness Thistle would hear. Caleb was moving around, his eyes traveling over the wreckage, presumably trying to ascertain how to get Thistle out.

“So you did, miss. You’re all right? You didn’t have any trouble in the woods.”

“None at all, Thistle,” Elinore lied, glancing up at Caleb, his eyes meeting hers for a moment. He nodded once tersely as though to indicate he would support her words. “As I said, things in the woods are more afraid of us than we of them.”

A wet coughing sound came from Thistle again and Elinore’s stomach clenched at the sound.

“Thank God, miss. I was so worried for you.”

“Thistle, I can see how you’re trapped,” said Caleb. “I’m going to try to move some of this wreck. Miss Reed, if you could move back a bit.”

Elinore scurried backward, dragging the cloaks and her skirts in the mud. Caleb braced his shoulder under a bit of the wreck and pushed up with a mighty heave. To Elinore’s surprise, the carriage moved upward and then off to the side. She heard a pained gasp from Thistle and she clenched and unclenched her fingers - wanting to go forward and help but not wanting to get in the way. She thought at one point that Caleb would have to concede defeat - the carriage was not moving enough to free Thistle. But then, Caleb appeared to double his efforts and the entire thing shifted back a foot. Another wounded sound came from Thistle and Caleb stepped back from the wreck, panting slightly. He bent down low, peering underneath. She could now see Mr. Thistlewaite, pale-faced and features tight with pain.

Elinore scooted forward in time to hear Caleb warn Thistle he was ready to pull him out. Some low words were exchanged between the two men before Caleb reached in and got his arms under Thistle and then in a smooth, strong motion, pulled him out from under the carriage. Thistle cried out as he was freed and Elinore quickly took Caleb’s cloak off and draped it over Thistle, hoping to give the poor man some warmth. She took one of his hands in hers while Caleb moved down to Thistle’s leg, examining it.

“There you are now, Thistle. We’ll have you safe as houses before morning.”

“Thank you, miss. I’m glad to see you’re all right.”

Elinore smiled down at him. “I should be saying that to you.”

Caleb pushed down on a part of Thistle’s leg and he yelped.

“Sorry,” Caleb said lowly. “Broken in at least two places. Maybe crushed. I cannot say. I daresay you’ve broken at least two ribs as well.” Caleb’s head turned sharply toward the woods, his body going tense for a moment before relaxing. Elinore’s eyes searched the foliage, but couldn’t make out anything. Moments later, she heard the sound of horse hoofs and then down the path came three riders. Caleb stood, making his way toward them. The men showed only a casual interest in Elinore - eyes flicking up and down her, then the carriage, and back to Caleb.

One of the men spoke, “Heard the gunshots. What happened?”

“Carriage accident,” said Caleb tersely. “Thistle’s injured.”

The man nodded curtly. “I’ll ride to Haleton and fetch the doctor.”

The other two slid from their horses, securing their weapons to their horses. Elinore couldn’t tear her eyes from them - shotguns, pistols, one had a sword. She recalled her words to Caleb, asking him what he was doing out at night. Hunting, he said. What on earth were they hunting in the pitch black of night? What kind of creature could possibly warrant so many weapons?

Then she remembered the wolf’s yellow eyes, glowing in the dark and the snarling sound it made as it stared at her. She recalled the wolf’s sharp teeth tearing into her arm. How she’d felt so small and vulnerable as it pounced. How even though she shot it, the wolf had still lunged forward to bite her. Perhaps she could see the need for such weapons after all.

Caleb’s voice, low and rough, pulled her from her thoughts. He’d quickly given her name to the men and introduced them just as quickly back, though it all passed over her in a quick blur. He then instructed the men to make a stretcher from the wreckage in order to ferry Thistle back to the manor. Caleb reached down to a part of the carriage that had formerly been the driver’s seat and pulled, leaving Elinore surprised when it gave away. It was either ready to break or, once again, Caleb was much stronger than he looked. Leaving the men to their work, Elinore leaned closer to Thistle again.