| |
* * *
Belle and Sidney ran toward the church, Sidney running just ahead of her. She was out of breath and had to work to keep up with him, somehow surprised that he was in such good shape. She knew his muscles were hard as rocks—she’d made sure to glean that information every time she touched him—but she’d had no idea he could run like the wind.
He disappeared over a small hill and she started to call out to him, then realized it would be selfish of her to slow him down. The faster he got to Irene, the faster she would be saved. She knew he could handle himself, but that didn’t stop her from worrying about him, the same way he worried about her.
She wondered if Sidney’s sudden spurt of speed had more to do with her than it did his agility. Was he trying to leave her behind on purpose? Did he mean to lock her out of the church so that she couldn’t even get in, thus ensuring her safety?
The thought both irritated her and warmed her. She kicked her heels up and dug harder into the ground, propelling herself forward that much faster and nearly tripping on her skirts as she did so. She always seemed to be tripping over her skirts at the wrong time and wished, not for the first time, that women’s skirts could be shorter than they were. If only she could raise them to her ankles without offending anyone, she would have been thrilled.
The church doors were open when she finally got there. Sidney was moving up and down the aisles, searching for Irene and Marshall, bending over at the waist every few feet and looking down as if he thought they were lying on their stomachs on the floor of the church, hiding beneath the pews. She supposed anything was possible.
“They’re not here,” he said when she came in.
“But they must be,” she told him.
He lifted his shoulders and looked at her with agitation. “Where are they then?” he said, and immediately blanched at the curtness in his voice. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so gruff.”
He sank into a pew and drew in a deep breath. “We were wrong. They’re not here.”
“But they must be,” said Belle. “He wanted to marry her this very moment, I’m sure of it. Where else could they be?”
“They could be halfway to Paris by now,” he said. “We’ve wasted enough time. I must get to Leonard and tell him what’s happened. He needs to get on the telegraph and—”
“Did you check the back rooms?” she asked, looking at him eagerly.
He hesitated. “The back rooms?”
“Did you?” she asked again.
“No. I didn’t think of it.” His face went pink.
“Well, come on then,” she said and hurried for them. There were two rooms at the end of the church. One was the preacher’s private office, the other was a storage room.
The storage room was open and empty, but when Belle tried the door to the preacher’s office, it refused to open.
“It’s locked,” she said.
Sidney pursed his lips. She watched as he calmly knocked on the door.
“Reverend Lerner?” he asked. At first, there was no response, and Belle thought the man was either not in there, or he was already dead.
Then Reverend Lerner’s voice sounded from behind the door. “Yes?”
“It’s Sidney Poole. May I come in?”
There was a long pause in which they could hear whispering, and then Reverend Lerner said, “I’m sorry. I’m indisposed at the moment. Come back later and we’ll speak then.”
Sidney shot a look to Belle, and she knew they were both thinking the same thing—Marshall was in there with the reverend and Irene. But just how badly were they injured? Was Irene even still alive? Belle thought she must be. Marshall wanted her too much to kill her. He would only do that when he’d finished exhausting every possible way to make her his.
Sidney looked at Belle then at the door. “Okay, Reverend. Sorry to disturb you. I’ll go now.” He stomped his feet on the ground, louder at first, then softer, as if leaving, grabbing hold of Belle and moving her several feet away from the door but not exiting the church.
He whispered in her ear. “Stay back.”
She started to argue with him then saw the look on his face and thought better of it. She nodded her head and stayed where she was even as Sidney began to move. He stepped back several more feet than she already was, then drew in a deep breath and ran at the door.
He put the full force of his weight behind him and rammed his shoulder into the door. He let out a grunt as he did so, and a small feminine cry echoed from the other side. Irene. The door budged in its frame, but not enough to go tumbling down.
Reverend Lerner began shouting. “He’s got a knife!”
Sidney rammed the door again, even harder if possible, and this time, the door gave even more. The frame around it, already worn, began to crack. Sidney rammed it a third time and the door broke open. He disappeared into the room, and Belle hurried after him.
When she reached the door, she saw Marshall standing with his knife pressed to Irene’s throat. The same knife he’d used to knock Belle unconscious with. The office was small, and the two of them were backed into a corner. Reverend Lerner stood between them and Sidney, his hands out, acting as a sort of mediator.
“Everyone just relax,” the reverend said. “Remember, this is God’s house.”
“I’m relaxed,” Marshall said. “I’ll relax even more once you marry me and Irene.”
“I’d rather you slit my throat with that knife,” Irene spat.
Marshall’s face contorted with anger.
“I’d watch what you said if I were you. You might just get your wish.” He pressed the point of his knife that much more against her skin and a small droplet of blood oozed out of her.
“Marshall!” Belle cried, terrified of what he might do next.
He blinked at her. “What are you doing here? I left you back at the barbershop. I thought I could teach you a lesson about interfering. I suppose I ought to have killed you instead.”
“That’s right,” Belle said, an idea popping into her head. “You should have. Better still though, you should let me help you kill Irene.”
Sidney looked at her as though she were crazy.
“What are you talking about?” Marshall asked suspiciously.
Belle moved closer toward him and Irene. Sidney had to step to his right, closer to the reverend, to allow her to pass. Belle’s left leg brushed up against the reverend’s desk. Her hand draped casually over it.
“You’d be doing me a favor if you killed her,” Belle said. “But you’d also be robbing me of the joy of doing it myself.”
“You’re telling lies. The two of you are friends. You don’t want her dead,” Marshall said but looked confused.
“This fool over here,” she said, pointing to Sidney, “proposed to Irene. And she said yes to him.”
Marshall’s face turned red. “You’re lying.” His eyes shifted toward Irene, his hands shaking. “Tell me that ain’t true. I knew you’d gotten together with this man, but I didn’t think... did you really agree to marry him?”
Irene shot a quick look to Belle, who nodded.
“I did,” Irene said. He looked only at Irene now, which was exactly where Belle wanted him to look.
“You see!” Belle shouted, creeping closer, her hand closing over an inkwell that was sitting on the desk. She let it go, spotting an envelope opener instead. Her fingers grasped a hold of it. It fit nicely in her palm. “I want Sidney for myself, so if you kill Irene, you’ll be doing me a favor.”
Marshall moved in just the right way then, trying to get a better look at Irene. His knife moved with him, and the tip was no longer pressed against Irene’s neck. He turned her around to face him, rather than hold her against him.
“I knew I couldn’t trust you!” he shouted at her and raised his knife as if he meant to stab her with it.
Belle lunged forward, cutting his neck with the envelope opener.
Marshall let out a surprised cry and turned to her, his knife swinging in her direction. Sidney pulled her out of the way, and she fell into Reverend Lerner, knocking him to the floor. Irene screamed and tried to get away but was trapped in the corner as Sidney and Marshall wrestled against each other.
The knife inched closer to Sidney’s face as the two men locked arms. Belle jumped up and ran toward them. Marshall didn’t even blink in her direction. He was too focused on Sidney. The blade moved closer and closer to him.
Irene suddenly lashed out from behind Marshall. She’d grabbed a clock sitting on a bookcase and cracked it over his head. Marshall’s eyes rolled up for a minute, and Sidney managed to get the knife from him. His eyes refocused slightly, and he tried to grab it back, staggering as he did so though.
Sidney kicked him in the stomach, and Marshall folded in on himself. He cried out in pain. Irene hit him again with the clock, this time at the base of his skull, and he fell to the ground and lay still.
Irene was panting. She stepped over Marshall’s body and reached Belle in two swift steps. Sidney handed the knife to Reverend Lerner, who was pale, and kneeled over Marshall’s body. Marshall wasn’t wearing a jacket, and a pool of blood had soaked through the back of his shirt.
“He’s dead,” Sidney said after a minute.
Irene cried out. “Was it me? Did I kill him with the clock?”
Sidney shook his head and pointed to his blood-soaked shirt. He lifted it up and revealed the man’s back. A bandage had come undone and stuck to the shirt, revealing a gaping bullet wound.
“This must be where Booker shot him,” Sidney said. “Whoever patched him up left the bullet in there. On top of all the blood he’s lost, it looks infected as well. If he’d been stronger, he’d still be alive right now. My guess is that he’d have died anyway in another day or two.”
Irene let out a sigh of relief, and Belle thought she understood. Just because she wanted the man dead didn’t mean she wanted to be the one to kill him.
“Now what?” asked Irene.
“Now,” said Sidney, sitting back and looking at Belle. “Now we can finally move on.”
Belle smiled at him. She would have let Irene go right then to go to Sidney, but Irene’s hands were trembling, and Belle was afraid to let her go, so she blew Sidney a kiss and mouthed, “I love you.”
Sidney mouthed the words back to her, and Reverend Lerner went to go and fetch Leonard, eager to be out of the office and away from the chaos that had just resulted in Irene’s freedom.
* * *
