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The man came right up to Lydia. He elbowed Penny out of the way and set down the lantern he’d been carrying. "She's hurt," he said, mournful and low.
Penny stood dumbfounded and shivering behind the man. "Why did you do that?" he asked Lydia. "I was bringing you dinner."
"Dinner?" Lydia asked. She draped her left arm across her body to protect her right side. Penny winced, seeing Lydia's pain.
"Yes," Penny said, struggling to keep her tone steady. "He brought us soup." She shrugged out of the man's eye line.
Lydia softened her tense expression. Pain made her look angry and bitter. She needed to reflect motherly softness. If she'd been correct in her assumptions about Mac and the man, tenderness would go a long way.
"Soup sounds nice," she said. "Thank you, Buck."
The big man flinched.
"Buck is your name, isn't it?"
The man shook his scarred head and frowned. "No, my name is Robert Hoosier." He recited his handle without ownership.
"Mac must be so proud of you. I bet it was hard to learn a new name."
A faint trembling smile flashed and faded. "My name is Robert," the man repeated. "I brought you soup. I'll go get it."
He stood and went quickly to the ladder. Penny took the opportunity to rush to Lydia's side.
"Are you really hurt?" she asked.
"Yes, but I'll be okay," Lydia answered. "I think my ribs are bruised. When the stack crashed, I hit hard on one of the boxes before landing on the dirt."
Penny quickly scanned the rest of Lydia's body using the lantern's warm glow. "I don't see any blood or anything. No bones or limbs are sticking out where they shouldn't be."
"That's always a plus," Lydia said. "Can you help me sit up? Maybe prop me up by the cot?"
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Penny asked.
"No." In fact, Lydia was dreading being moved. "But I'm certain Buck will want me to eat some soup. He'll sit me up if you don't. I'm afraid his strength will make him a little less gentle than you."
Penny stood and scooted the cot closer to Lydia. She anchored it with a few boxes to give Lydia a stronger place to lean.
"Shouldn't I be looking for some way to clobber, Buck, when he comes back down? Maybe if I whack him on the head while he's on the ladder, I could..." Penny asked as she delicately hoisted Lydia into an upright position.
Lydia bit her lip, shoving the pulsating pain away if only for a moment. She had to keep her wits about her. "No," she told Penny. The girl cocked her head in response. "Buck doesn't want to hurt us. He never has. He's following orders. From Mac."
Penny steadied herself as Lydia used her arm as a stabilizer to pull against. A groan escaped Lydia's clenched jaw. "What if she's told him to kill us? Maybe poison our soup or something?"
Penny had a point. Lydia hadn't thought about poison. She still didn't see Mac using Buck to deliver it. That would endanger him just as much as asking him to slit their throats.
"I don't think so," Lydia answered slowly. "Besides, if we were going to die, wouldn’t you have sensed it or something by now."
Penny frowned, angry, and frustrated. "It doesn't work that way. Remember, it's not something I ask for. Just something that happens. But no. No, I haven't"
"Then let's take that as a good sign, shall we?"
The rope ladder jostled as one of Buck's large boots absorbed the top rung.
"He's going to need help." Lydia gestured.
"Help?"
"Yes. The man's carting hot soup down a rope ladder. He's definitely going to need assistance."
"I still don't understand why we're trusting him or Mac’s use of him," Penny said as she rose to comply with Lydia's wishes.
"Because, Mac is his sister. And even if she has a funny way of showing it, she's doing her best to protect Buck. I don't think it would bode well for our health if we were to hurt him."
Penny's eyebrow lifted. Lydia had a great deal more to explain before she felt safe. For the moment, she was going to trust the woman's intuition and help the strange man serve his captives dinner.
***
STILL NAVIGATING THE backroads, Ivy and Kat passed the fourth barn on Lydia’s list of snapshots. Each one amped up their fear and bolstered their resolve. They were just as determined as ever to reach their friend and save her if they could. Hopefully, she and Penny were only waiting to be rescued. Perhaps a little cold but safe.
Ivy squinted at the fifth blurry picture on her phone just as it alerted her of a missed call. She squealed when Lydia’s name rolled across her screen. “It’s her,” she said.
“Where?” Kat asked, swerving along the road as she looked for Lydia.
“On the phone.” Ivy held up the device. “I missed a call. An hour ago, it says.”
“The lightning is letting up,” Kat stated, pointing to the blustery sky. “But it doesn’t look like it’ll hold back for long.”
Ivy hit the speaker and played the message. Lydia's voice broke through the sounds of the storm in random snippets. Both listeners could barely make out her words.
"I can't hear her past those windchimes," Kat growled as she continued driving.
"I'll hold it closer to your ear." Ivy leaned as close as she could to Kat. The Jeep's bucket seats made nearness a challenge. Still, she held the cell phone up between her ear and Kat's and pushed replay.
"... Penny... don't... love." The message was still inaudible.
"Try it again," Kat demanded.
Ivy obliged.
"...Penny... Iver... don't ...love."
"She sounds so muffled," Ivy said, bringing the phone back to her lap. She slid firmly back into her seat just in time for Kat to plow over a thin tree branch lounging in the center lane.
"But she's yelling," Kat added. "It's like someone else has her phone and she's screeching at it."
"Maybe it's in her pocket. Hidden from Mr. Iver?"
Kat considered what that might imply. "Then she really is in danger. Big time."
Ivy swallowed. "And at the Iver farm."
Again Kat shoved her foot down on the accelerator. Her forcefulness did nothing but frustrate her. The wind and rain may have slowed for the moment, but they'd already done their damage. Kat could go as fast as she pleased but only in ten-second intervals. Before long, she had to finesse the brakes and swerve to avoid the newest bit of scenery to decorate the street.
She growled at the storm. It ignored her, as it built up pressure for its next round.
***
THE LARGE MAN OFFERED an even larger smile to Penny when she offered to help him carry dinner. He passed her a thermos and a loaf of bread. She toted it over to the cot and Lydia. The man followed a few steps behind her.
“You’re sitting,” he said.
“I’m hurt but feeling better,” Lydia offered. “Thanks for the soup. It’s very cold down here.”
The man pointed to the shattered window. “You shouldn’t have done that. Mac will be so mad. We’re supposed to take care of the barn. Like we were never here.”
Lydia frowned. “I’m sorry. I hope we don’t get you into trouble.”
The huge man shrugged. Then, like a child, he plopped down on the dirt and crisscrossed his legs. He didn’t look like a foreboding kidnapper. More like a child awaiting storytime at the local library.
He placed his hands on his knees. “Eat,” he said.
Penny flinched before pouring Lydia a cap full of the soup. “You go first,” Lydia said to Penny. Though she was cold and hungry, Lydia didn’t feel like eating. She was certain her ribs wouldn’t appreciate the lifting of the cup to her mouth, let alone the slurping and swallowing of the soup.
Penny’s eyes widened. She didn’t want to play as Lydia’s cupbearer. She pleaded with Lydia silently.
“I’m sure it’s delicious,” Lydia said, trying to instill confidence in Penny Nicols.
Penny dipped her pinky in the lid and lifted it to her lips. The tomato soup was warm and wonderful. She waited only a moment, testing for toxins, before sipping down the rest.
“So, Buck,” Lydia began, gently. “What was your full name before it was Robert?”
The man grinned. “You already know my secret?”
“I think so,” Lydia said.
“Tell me, and I’ll tell you.” He patted his knees, waiting for Lydia to spin her tale.
“If I’m guessing correctly, you’re really Richard Dean Iver. Buck for short, right?” Lydia watched as Buck’s eyes twinkled. “And Mac is your sister. She was MacKenzie Iver, right? But you’ve always called her Mac.”
“That’s right,” he said. “How did you know?”
Lydia pointed to the boxes with the tape peeling from them. “You left your scrapbooks down here. And then there’s the poster on the wall.” Lydia reached across her body to gesture to the yellowing poster. She instantly regretted it. She could almost feel the color drain from her skin as cool sweat replaced gooseflesh. Her side scolded her reckless motion.
“Oh,” Buck said. His eyes widened as Lydia grimaced. “You’re hurt. I’ll go get Mac. She’ll know what to do.”
“No,” Lydia nearly shouted. “I’m fine. Just keep talking to me for a while.”
“No. No. Mac will be upset about the window, but she wouldn’t want you to be hurting.”
Lydia softened her voice. She needed Buck to keep his compassion but leave his sister out of things. She had a feeling Mac would only make things worse for Buck and Lydia.
“How about this,” she asked. “Why don’t you help me up the ladder and back into the van? Then you can go get, Mac.”
Buck shook his head vigorously. “No ma’am. Mac says you both need to stay here until she can come talk to you. She’ll be here right after dinner.” The tall man stood up and dusted his hands on his pants. He succeeded in only making both his palms and jeans dirtier. “But you’re hurt and you need help. I’ll get Mac now.”
Lydia shook her head to protest. Spots danced in her vision. The dark room, now brighter because of Buck’s lantern, shadowed on the edges and closed in around her vision. Her stomach spun in protest against her wounded rib cage.
Penny put her lid down and flung herself beside Lydia. “I don’t know what to do,” she told Lydia. “Tell me how to help you.”
Buck grunted. “I’ll be right back,” he called behind him as he scurried up the ladder.
“And Mac will be with him,” Penny whispered what both she and Lydia were afraid of. The most volatile member of the pair would be with them shortly.