Allison ran hard the entire three miles between the deserted Krueger place and Stonewycke’s gates.
Had she taken the road, the way would have been easier, but longer, and she feared she might run into the other two men. She had therefore struck out over the moor and, despite the darkness of the night, had miraculously made it without breaking her leg in a peat bog. Even as the imposing walls of Stonewycke’s outer perimeter came into view, she was not sure she could make it. Her chest heaved frightfully and a painful stitch tore at her side. But the rain did not begin until she was in sight of the castle.
The ever-present thought of Logan forced her to keep going. Please, God, she prayed over and over as she ran, please don’t let him be hurt seriously. Protect him, Lord . . . keep your hand upon him.
She pushed open the ancient gate and paused a brief moment to catch at least one more breath with which to go on. Glancing up at the house, she found two or three lights still on. It must be nearly midnight.
The kitchen door was still unlocked. She entered, frantically calling for her mother. Footsteps hurried along the corridor above, then down the stairs. More lights flashed on. As her mother reached her, Allison collapsed into her arms, crying and trembling. Alec was but two paces behind his wife, the anxiety of the night etched clearly on his face.
“Lass,” he said, “oh, lass, what’s happened? I’ve been oot lookin’ fer ye this last hour.”
“It’s awful, Daddy!” she cried, now finding his strong arms enfolding her as well. “It’s Logan—”
“What’s he done?” exclaimed Alec, his proud Scottish blood on the rise.
“He’s hurt, Daddy . . .” replied Allison. “There are some men, bad men. They kidnapped me. Then they brought Logan. We were both tied up. Logan got loose and overpowered the man so I could escape. But he was shot—he wouldn’t tell me how bad. Oh, I’m so scared!”
“Shh,” soothed Alec, concerned by Allison’s disjointed explanation.
“What men?” asked Joanna.
“I don’t know, but they wanted Logan. They made him tell where the treasure is. Two of them left. I think they had orders to kill us once they found the treasure. If they get back before help comes, I’m afraid—” She burst into tears.
“Where is he?” asked her father, his mind clearing.
“At the old Krueger cottage.”
“All right, we’ll go fer him,” said Alec, springing into action. “I’ll get the truck from Fergie an’ gather up a few men on the way. We’ll be there in no time.”
He started down the hall, but Allison ran after him.
“I’m going with you,” she stated.
“Lass, there’s no tellin’ what we’ll find.”
“I don’t care. I have to go. I can’t let him think I didn’t care enough to come back.”
“Let her go, Alec,” Joanna said with an understanding smile. “This is something she has to do. The Lord will protect you both.”
“Ye must do whate’er I tell ye.”
“Of course I will,” replied Allison earnestly. “But let’s go!”
Within twenty minutes, the truck was brought out and the farmhands who lived on the estate were awakened, and they set out for the deserted cottage. On the way Alec tried to get what additional information from Allison he could. He sent Fergie into town to gather assistance in order to apprehend the men who had gone to Ramsey Head, if they were still there.
The truck bounced and clattered over the old, rutted dirt road they had to use for the final leg of the short journey. Allison sat on the edge of the front seat, clinging tensely to the dashboard, trying to peer through the rain.
Suddenly she saw something, a dark and shadowy figure, moving toward them.
“Look!” she exclaimed. “Daddy, stop . . . it’s Logan!”
Alec ground the truck to a halt and jumped out, Allison at his side. They ran forward.
But it was not Logan, only Frank Lombardo trudging heavily through the rain, soaked to the skin, utterly lost. In spite of the certain disaster awaiting him, he was actually relieved to see a sign of human life through the dismal night.
“It’s him!” cried Allison. “That’s the man!”
Alec needed no further explanation. He stepped forward, grabbed Lombardo’s arms, and pushed him against the truck. With two other burly crofters now backing Alec and ready at the first sign of a struggle, Lombardo surrendered without a fight.
“Where is he?” screamed Allison. “What have you done to him?”
“If you mean Macintyre,” replied the subdued Lombardo, “I didn’t do nothin’ to him. He just died, that’s all—at least he’s dead by now. You saw for yourself. He’s the one who attacked me, and the gun just went off.”
“No! Daddy . . . no!”
“Dinna ye give up hope yet, lassie,” said Alec. “Ye jist keep prayin’ hard.”
But Lombardo scoffed at the words. “It’s too late fer prayin’. I tell you, he’s a goner. But it weren’t my fault.”
Without further conversation, Alec took the prisoner toward the back of the truck and made him climb up. “Can you handle him?” he asked his men. One of them, sitting in the back with his hunting rifle on his lap, wielded it knowingly and nodded.
As they approached the cottage, it looked more deserted than ever. Nonetheless, Allison was out of the truck even before it had come to a full stop and racing toward the door. Lord, she prayed, afraid for what she might find, help me to face this with strength.
The fire had died to all but a few pitiful embers and it was almost dark inside. But the next moment Alec came up behind her holding a lantern. Allison saw Logan lying on the hard earth, deathly still, his skin ashen as if the fire of his life, too, had died. She rushed forward and fell to her knees beside him.
“Logan!” she wept, gently lifting his head. “Oh, Logan . . . please don’t be dead.”
For several agonizing moments there was no response. She grasped his hand. It was still warm with life. With tears of anguish and love in her eyes, she leaned down, kissed him, and laid her head on his chest. “Logan . . . Logan . . .” she said, softly this time. “Logan . . . I love you!”
A flutter, though faint, stirred in his chest. She looked up at her father helplessly, then back to the prostrate form.
Slowly Logan’s eyelids opened, but the merest crack. A pathetic, crooked smile bent his lips.
“Ali . . .” he breathed. “Ali . . . is that you?”
“Oh yes! Logan . . . yes, it’s me! Oh, thank you, Lord!”
“ . . . told you I was a lucky fellow . . .”
“Oh, Logan! . . . hush now . . . please . . .” rebuked Allison with joy in her voice.
Alec knelt down and gently lifted Logan into his arms, and, with Allison beside him, murmuring words of love and encouragement into his ear, carried him to the truck.