A Noble Groom (Michigan Brides #2)(98)

Sophie’s cries turned shrill, almost as if she sensed the panic burning through Annalisa.

“Carl!” Annalisa craned her neck but couldn’t see anything, not even Gretchen’s face. Only the weight of her daughter and the warm breath against her cheek assured Annalisa that Gretchen was there.

A flaming ember floated across the opening of the well, illuminating them for a brief instant before plunging them back into darkness. The fire was almost on top of them now.

The hope that had ignited when Carl walked into the barn sputtered and fizzled into nothing.

He was going to die.

A cry rose to her tight throat. She wanted to scream just like Sophie.

Gretchen’s cold, wet hand slid against Annalisa’s cheek. “Maybe we should pray, Mama.”

Annalisa sucked in a breath, catching a waft of the smoke pressing down into the well. “Ja, liebchen. We must pray.”

But any semblance of a prayer stuck in her throat.

“Help Carl. Help Uncle Uri. Help Opa. Help Tante Eleanor . . .” Gretchen’s prayer was so simple, so trusting.

Maybe she needed to learn to have Gretchen’s faith. After all, Gott had helped her in the barn when she’d prayed. Even though she’d had to sign the deed over to Ward, Gott had given her peace about doing so. Somehow she’d known He was there with her. That no matter what happened, she’d done the right thing.

He’d be with her again, wouldn’t He?

“Gott,” she whispered, pressing a kiss against Gretchen’s damp skin. “Won’t you be with us one more time?”

“He’s already with us, Mama.”

She hadn’t meant for Gretchen to hear her prayer.

“He’s here right now.” The girl’s voice was so matter-of-fact, Annalisa knew she had to trust that once again Gott was with them, that He wasn’t too busy to help and comfort a poor widow and her children. That perhaps He never had been too busy. Perhaps Gott had been there all along, loving her, regardless of how good she was.

Another burning ember flashed in the opening of the well, only this time it drifted down the passageway toward them.



She splashed it with water and doused it.

But as another fleck of burning wood rained down on them, Annalisa knew the fire was closing in. It was hungrily devouring everything in its path.

All she could think was that Carl was out there, in the danger and flames.

And she didn’t want him to die.





Chapter

21





Carl tightened his arm around Ward’s waist. The man groaned, nearly dragging him down with his weight.

“So you were the one who hit me.” Ward’s voice was slurred, the gash near his forehead oozing and raw. Bits of hay stuck to the blood that streaked his cheek and ear.

Carl didn’t say anything. Even if he’d had the breath to answer, his silence was the better option. He wanted to avoid implicating Uri. Better for Ward to think it was him.

“Don’t believe that I’ll let you get away with this.” With each step Ward’s breath was more labored.

Carl had left the lantern in the barn. But above the woods beyond the cabin, the flames leapt into the sky and lit the darkness like a giant torch.

The well loomed before them. Flying sparks had landed in the dry grass near the cabin, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before the wind fanned them into flames as big and roaring as the ones headed their way.

“The well?” Ward struggled to stop. “You can’t possibly expect me to take refuge in the well.”



Carl strained to propel the man forward. “It’s all we have. Now go. Before we’re both roasted alive right here.”

“I refuse to get in a well.” Ward straightened and jerked away from him with surprising strength. “I’ve heard stories about the fire of ’71. How families got in their wells and either suffocated or were boiled like chickens until their flesh fell off their bones.”

Carl had already counted the dangers—the lack of oxygen, the possible carbon dioxide poisoning, the rise in temperature that could kill them. He’d gone over all the worst-case scenarios but had decided the well was still their best chance for survival.

“We don’t have time to argue.” Carl reached for Ward’s arm. He’d drag the man there if he had to.

Ward stumbled backward toward the barn. “I’m riding to town to the lake.”

“You don’t have time.” Carl glanced at the oncoming fire, the columns of swirling black smoke giving testimony to its massive appetite. Ashes and sparks rained down on them, and a gust of wind breathed a blistering heat.

But Ward had already spun around and was stumbling toward the barn. “My horse is fast and will be able to outrun the fire,” he shouted over his shoulder. “If not, I’ll bury myself in a field.”

“You shouldn’t chance it. The fire’s too close.”

Ward disappeared into the barn.

Carl shook his head and then dashed the rest of the distance to the well. He couldn’t waste any more time. Annalisa and the girls would have a better chance of survival if he was there to help them. The truth was, Ward probably had as much chance of outriding the firestorm as they did hiding in the well.

Sophie’s cries greeted him.