It’s just as you left it.” Relief tinged Brock’s voice as Johann brought the wagon to a stop in front of Annie’s cabin.
Sitting beside Johann, Annie gazed upon her cabin for the first time in nearly three months. The scene before her eyes misted, and her heart swelled with grateful prayers. Since learning of the tragedy at Pigeon Roost, they were not at all sure what they might find when they arrived here.
But gazing over the landscape, she knew Brock was not entirely correct in his assessment. Things here had changed since she last saw her land. The day of her abduction, the corn the two of them planted had reached only waist high. Now the stalks stood taller than most men. Crowned with golden tassels, the plants’ green leaves had begun yellowing beneath the early-September sun, while brown silks that tipped well-formed ears curled as they dried. Near the ground, splotches of orange appeared on round, green pumpkins: the gourds she’d planted the day she was taken. The four acres of wheat and oats, which three months ago had just started sporting grain heads, were now reduced to golden stubble.
“Hermann Hoffmeier and his family have taken good care of the place.” Standing behind her in the wagon’s bed, Brock voiced Annie’s own thoughts.
“Oui.” Her gaze pivoted to the cabin. All looked neat and tidy. Even the two brownstone steps that led up to the building’s front door appeared swept clean. Beside the steps, someone had planted a wild rosebush and some honeysuckle vines. Although Brock had told her the Dunbars were caring for Cap’n Brody, she almost expected the big dog to come bounding out the front door. But the door was closed—barred shut.
For the first time since they arrived, she noticed the unnatural quiet. Not so much as a bray from Sal or a moo from Persimmon.
An uneasy feeling rose in Annie’s chest as her gaze climbed to the top of the chimney, devoid of smoke.
Something was not right.
She sensed Brock tense behind her. He must feel it, too.
Dread tiptoed up Annie’s spine, raising the hair at the back of her neck. At the worried look on Brock’s face she struggled to keep her voice calm. “The Hoffmeiers must have moved to their new cabin.”
Brock shook his head. “They promised some of the family would stay here until I returned.”
Climbing down from the wagon, he took up his rifle and motioned for Johann to ready his own musket. “I’m going to look around. If there’s any trouble, you two hightail it to the fort.”
Beating back the fear rising inside her, she gave Brock a solemn nod and prayed he’d find nothing amiss. Beside her, Johann calmly loaded his musket as Brock disappeared behind the cabin. Annie wished she had Jonah’s old brown Bess as well.
After a few tense moments, Brock emerged from around the building’s northeast corner. Annie hadn’t realized she’d held her breath until she expelled it with a relieved whoosh.
Giving a puzzled shrug, he walked back to the wagon. “They must have gone to the fort.”
Annie stood. For nearly three months, she’d longed to see the inside of her cabin again. She wouldn’t leave until she had. “I want to see my cabin, and I need to get my mother’s Bible.”
Brock shook his head. “I’m sorry, Annie, but I’m not sure it’s safe to linger.”
A flash of anger stiffened Annie’s back, and she began to climb down from the wagon. “Allez-y! You do as you like, Brock Martin, but I’m going into my house!”
Before her foot touched the wagon spoke, she felt his sure grip on her waist and heard his soft sigh of defeat. “One quick look, Annie, and then we must go.”
“I watch.” Johann looked down upon them from his perch on the wagon, a hint of a grin lifting the corner of his mouth.
At the door, Annie fidgeted with excitement on the stone step as Brock removed the heavy wood bar. How wonderful it would be to see her own things again—to sit on her own bed.
When he finally opened the door, she stepped into a room at once familiar and unfamiliar. Objects she didn’t recognize blended with her own to make a space, though homey, different from the one she remembered. It even smelled different. The scents of cooked cabbage and sausage still lingered in the air. Yet she was pleased to see how tidy the place looked.
When her gaze drifted to the table by the bed where she’d kept her mother’s Bible, disappointment and sadness struck her a solid blow.
Her voice quavered and tears stung her eyes. “Mama’s Bible is gone.” She tried to console herself with rational thought. Brock had said the Hoffmeiers were good Christian people. Perhaps they’d simply packed it away for her.
Frowning, Brock bounced a narrow-eyed glance around the space. “They left in a hurry, that’s for sure. I say we do the same.”
Though she hated leaving, Annie knew he was right. Nodding, she exited the cabin, eager to see Bess and Obadiah.
On their way to the fort, every other homestead they passed looked as abandoned as hers. But Annie took solace in that they found none of the places burned or any other grim signs of attack.
As they approached the fort, someone called out heralding their arrival, and the twin log gates swung open, allowing them to enter.
Annie gazed about astounded. Only on Sunday had she seen so many people in the fort at once. And this wasn’t Sunday. A buzz of excitement swelled and spread through the gathering crowd around them. Brock and Johann climbed down from the wagon first. Scanning the crowd of people for Bess and Obadiah, Annie climbed down from the wagon into waiting arms. She turned, expecting to see Brock’s face. But it was Johann’s smile that greeted her—Johann’s arms that lifted her safely to the ground.
The disappointment squiggling through Annie evaporated at the sight of Bess Dunbar running toward her, arms outstretched and tears streaming down her beaming face.
“Oh, my girl! My precious, precious girl!” Bess’s tears dampened Annie’s hair and shoulder. “Praise be to God! Praise His Holy Name….” The rest of her words were swallowed by happy sobs as she rocked Annie in her arms like she was little Ruth or Isaac.
Annie vaguely noticed Johann and Brock move away to another group of people as she clung to Bess, joining her friend in a chorus of tears and laughter.
At last, Bess pushed away from their embrace. “Brock vowed he’d fetch you back to us, and he did. Praise be to God, he did! Let me look at you.” Her eyes widened, and her mouth formed a little O. “I knew I was right.” New tears sketched silently down her plump cheeks, and she pressed her palm against Annie’s rounded belly. “He kicks real strong.”
Annie couldn’t help giggling at Bess’s words. “You think it is a boy, then?”
Bess gave her an astonished look. “Why, ’course it’s a boy! Look how you’re carryin’—all out front in a little ball.” She shook her head and brushed away fresh tears. “Jonah would be right pleased.”
Annie liked to imagine Jonah grinning down on her from heaven, already aware of their child’s gender. At the same time, it bothered her to think of the babe growing up without a father. Her gaze instinctively turned toward Brock like a willow branch to water. He stood some distance away with Johann, Obadiah, and a group of people she didn’t immediately recognize. Then she watched Brock hug a very pretty, but obviously distraught, blond girl, and Annie’s heart pinched.
Katarina Hoffmeier.
Did the girl cry from sorrow at the news of Sophie Arnholt, or in happiness at Brock’s safe return? Perhaps both, Annie decided, watching Brock touch the girl’s arm in a sympathetic manner that suggested a measure of familiarity. Annie hated the jealousy rising up inside her.
Before she had a chance to wonder any more about the two’s relationship, she found herself engulfed in Obadiah Dunbar’s paternal bear hug.
“Our prayers have been answered, lass. We will be singing praises of thanksgiving to God tonight, my girl.” Letting her go, Obadiah’s happy face turned somber. “When we heard about Pigeon Roost, we feared for you and Brock and Gray Feather.”
Annie glanced around at the milling throng. “Is that why everyone has come into the fort—because of what happened at Pigeon Roost?”
Obadiah nodded. “That, and because of George Kinney. They found him tomahawked to death in his cornfield yesterday.”