A Noble Groom (Michigan Brides #2)(66)

“Carl!” She screamed his name again.

Smoke filled her lungs, and she found herself falling to her knees, convulsing with choking coughs.

The roaring and crackling of the flames overhead shouted their warning. The heat of the growing fire slammed her, giving her no choice but to go back.

She was scrambling to retreat when she bumped into a hoe. And a boot . . . Her fingers trembled as she made contact with one of Carl’s legs and then the other.

She didn’t wait to see what had happened to him or even if he was still alive. With all the strength she could muster she grabbed him by his calves and dragged him toward the door.

The smoke burned her eyes and throat.



“Gott . . .” She didn’t know what to pray, only that she needed Gott’s help like she never had before. At some point in her life she’d stopped believing that He cared about what happened to a woman like her. But maybe now she was going to have to trust that He was listening to her. If she’d been wrong in her beliefs about the love between a man and a woman, was it possible she’d been wrong about His love too?

With a half sob, half prayer, she tugged Carl. The heat and the deathly fumes reached out to consume her. A dizzying wave crashed over her. Darkness threatened to close in. She blinked hard and fought to stay conscious.

Finally she stumbled backward out the door, pulling Carl into fresh, breathable air.

She collapsed against the dry mud of the barnyard.

The flames swallowed the thin boards of the barn in full fury, threatening to reach out and capture them. Taking a gulp of air, she crawled backward and hauled Carl with her.

The barn gave a large shuddering creak and then it cracked, as if an oversized ax had crashed through the structure.

Annalisa threw herself over Carl and cringed, praying she’d made it far enough away.

The roof caved in with an enormous roar. The impact of the falling boards sent heat and flames shooting into the air. A hot blanket seemed to fall across her back, but she didn’t move until the roar had faded. Then she lifted her head and peeked at the barn. It was completely flattened, the fire now shooting high into the air along with clouds of black smoke.

Sophie’s unending cries by the house reassured her the baby was still alive and safe.

But what about Carl? Was he alive? The question petrified her.

There had been a gunshot. Even though she hadn’t noticed any blood, Ward’s man still may have shot him.



Carl’s body lay stiff and unmoving beneath her weight. She shifted and pressed her ear against his chest. At the steady drumming of his heartbeat, she shuddered with relief.

His face was pale beneath the dark scruff that lined his jaw and cheeks. After the weeks of taking care of him during his fight with typhoid, she allowed her trembling fingers the freedom to graze his face again. His scratchy skin tickled her and reminded her how much she liked touching him.

She moved her hand into his hair, then gasped and pulled back. Her fingers were slick with bright red blood.

“Nein!” Frantically she searched his hair, looking for the wound and praying it wasn’t a bullet hole.

She didn’t have to hunt for long before she found a gash in his scalp. Had Ward’s man hit Carl?

She parted his hair and examined the slash. Fortunately it wasn’t deep, but the gaping flesh still made her stomach churn. She hadn’t seen a wound like that since she’d found Hans . . .

With a start, she spun around and stared at the woods where Ward’s man had disappeared. He’d been heading in the direction of the river. Was he the one who had been marking the trees and clearing out the island in Mill Creek? What if he was the man who’d snuck up on Hans and killed him?

A tremor started in her torso and moved to her limbs until she was shaking with chills.

The typhoid had kept Ward away for weeks, yet it was clear he wasn’t about to give up on taking her land from her. And that he would do anything to get it, including murdering any man who opposed him.

She turned to the burning mass of boards—all that remained of her barn.

Had Ward’s man started the fire too?

The acridness of the smoke permeated the air around her. Blinking back stinging tears, she ripped her apron and tied a strip of it around Carl’s wound, stemming the blood flow. Then she rubbed a hand across her forehead, wiping away sweat and trying to calm the pounding.

Perhaps she needed to convince Carl to leave the farm, tell him she didn’t want him there anymore. How could she live with herself if her selfishness—her inability to let him go—was the cause of his death?

With a groan she laid her head on his chest and threw her arms across him. She couldn’t bear the thought of life without him. How could she live without wondering what sort of contraption he would create next for her? And how could she make it through the day without seeing one of his smiles or the playfulness dancing in his eyes?

An ache wrapped around her lungs and squeezed until she could hardly breathe from the pain of imagining life without him.

“My love.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.

She froze. Had she fallen in love with Carl?

She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth to stifle a cry. Why had she allowed herself to fall in love with him? He wouldn’t, couldn’t stay. She needed to keep herself from getting too attached and save herself the heartache.

The warmth of his chest and the gentle rise and fall of his breathing soothed her frantic questions. She pressed her face into the grainy linen of his shirt and breathed deeply of his manly scent—one that hinted at earth, and beasts, and hard work.