A Noble Groom (Michigan Brides #2)(11)

“What?” Carl wanted to stop, to yell at Matthias for making such foolhardy plans.

But Matthias pushed him through the shrubbery so that he stood exposed by the moonlight in the middle of the scant woodlands bordering the river behind the castle.

Long shadows spread out around him like the ghosts of long-dead knights, waiting to pounce on him and drag him back to the dungeon.

The barking of a lone dog in the distance and the frigidness of the air sent shivers of fear up his back.

“You’re free,” Matthias whispered behind him. “Now run. Run for your life.”





Chapter

3





MARCH 1881

FORESTVILLE, MICHIGAN

At the snapping of a twig Annalisa turned with a start, and the story of “Lily and the Lion” died on her lips.

Her gaze combed the woods. The bare branches allowed her to see a fair distance in all directions. In late March the trees were gray and dull, brittle from the long winter and still devoid of leaves except for a few withered clusters that had forgotten to let go in the fall. The only sign of life within the towering maples was the sap that had begun to flow.

“More, Mama.” Gretchen looked up at her, eyes wide with expectation. Even with a knit scarf covering her head and ears and a double layer of clothes, Gretchen’s teeth chattered and her thin body shook. The spring sunshine didn’t lend any warmth to the lingering winter temperatures.

But the story had accomplished its purpose and kept Gretchen from thinking about how cold she was and the fact that her threadbare coat wouldn’t keep even the smallest mouse warm.



Annalisa scanned the rough path that hardly counted as a road. And she peered to the wisp of smoke rising above the treetops, above her parents’ farmhouse.

Vater had warned her about going out alone, especially since Ward had visited a month ago and again pressured her to sell him the farm. Everyone knew he wanted to build his sawmill on the prime spot on her land and that he needed to do it before the spring river drive, before the rivers thawed and the lumber camps to the north began moving their logs to market.

She’d refused him just as Hans had done in the fall.

Even though Ward had left peacefully enough, Vater had told her not to go out unless Uri was with her. Plenty of the farmers still blamed Ward for Hans’s death. But they’d had no solid evidence for bringing charges against him. And there were those—like Vater—who would think the worst of a wealthy, powerful man like Ward even if he’d been an angel in disguise.

“Bitte.” Gretchen danced on one foot, then on the other in the boots Idette had found among the outgrown belongings of her stepchildren. The boots were too large, but at least Gretchen had something. “Bitte. More story, Mama.”

Annalisa glanced to the far edges of the acreage.

She had nothing to fear except her own wild imagination. She was safe, especially by the road. And she was close enough to her parents’ home to cry out for help if anything or anyone threatened her.

But nein. Nothing would happen. Hadn’t she managed fine all winter? To be sure, she’d labored hard during the past six months since Hans had died, even with Uri and Eleanor coming to check on her and help her almost daily.

And she’d been safe. Nothing had happened.

Besides, with the freezing temperatures at night combined with the past several bright sunny days, the sap had begun to flow. She needed to empty her buckets before the load became too heavy to carry.

“Tell me more, Mama. More,” Gretchen pleaded.

“Ja, liebchen.” Annalisa turned back to the tin pail hanging from a spout in the tree. She rose on her tiptoes again and strained to see inside, but the roundness of her growing abdomen got in the way.

Perhaps she’d bored the tapping holes a bit too high. At least she’d done them on the sunniest sides of the trees and had avoided the northern exposure and any trunk defects. She’d also managed to make the holes almost a finger’s length in depth.

But she still had much to learn about collecting sap and boiling it into maple syrup.

“Now, let’s see.” The baby inside her gave a slight kick as if anxious to hear the rest of the story too. Annalisa rubbed her hand over her protruding stomach, grazing a tiny bump of a foot. “Where was I?”

“Lily must leave her papa to go to the lion.”

“Ach, ja. You’re right.” Annalisa hefted the pail away from the spout. Her arms and back strained under the weight. “So, the papa’s very sad and says, ‘My dearest Lily.’” Annalisa spoke in a deep fatherly voice. “‘I won’t let you go because the wild lion will tear you to pieces and eat you.’”

Gretchen gave the appropriate gasp.

At her daughter’s enthrallment, Annalisa’s lips curved into a smile. “But Lily’s a brave and good young daughter. And she tells her papa, ‘Dear Papa, the word you have given the lion must be kept. I’ll go to the lion and soothe him. Perhaps he’ll let me come safely home again.’”

Annalisa poured the sap from the smaller bucket into the larger container she’d brought along for collecting the liquid. Just the thought of carrying the heavy bucketful of sap back to the cabin made her tired.

“So, the next morning, Lily asked the way she was to go.” Annalisa hung the empty tin pail back onto the spout and then reached for the handle of the bigger collecting bucket. “Finally she took leave of her papa and went forth with a bold heart into the woods to face the lion.”