An Untimely Frost (23 page)

“Don't make things worse for yourself, Prudence!” Lilly cried. “Don't repeat the wrong you did twenty years ago!”

Even over her cries for mercy, there was no mistaking the sounds of an unrepentant Prudence scooting the trunk back in front of the door, then replacing the crates and mirror on top. With a sinking heart, Lilly listened as the madwoman's footfalls faded down the stairs.

Being shot would have been a kindness.

“Prudence!” she cried once more though her throat had already gone raw from screaming. “Let me out of here!”

There was no response. Lilly didn't know how long she continued to scream and rail. She cursed Prudence and Harold and herself for being so stubbornly pigheaded. Her toes felt bruised in her heavy boots, her voice was reduced to a raw whisper, and her hands were swollen and bleeding once more. She dragged the quilt from the cot and sank down on the dusty floor. Wrapping her arms around the quilt, she rested her cheek against it while tears of exhaustion seeped from her eyes.

She must have slipped into a short sleep, because she dreamed. Dreamed of a baby sleeping in a valise while Timothy, wearing nothing but ankle boots and a signet ring, strangled a naked Kate while Lilly hid under the bed. Rose came in, hoping to help Kate, but Timothy shoved her against the fireplace and when her head hit the hearth, her skull split open and money streamed out. Then Rose was gone and Kate was the skeleton on the bed, lying in a tangle of bloody sheets. Next to her sat the valise with the skeleton baby, but now Lilly was the baby.

She woke to the sound of herself crying and tears running down her cheeks, her heart breaking for the mother and sibling she'd lost.

C
HAPTER
39

W
hen Lilly first opened her eyes, she was greeted by a profound silence and a room filled with deepening shadows. For a moment, she had no idea where she was. Her sore and aching body felt as if she'd been dragged for miles behind a horse and buggy. Her hands were so swollen she could barely make a fist. Then she remembered. Though her body was beaten down, her mind was clear. The empty grave. Prudence's confession. Being locked in with Sarah and her baby.

The dead made good sleeping companions. Perhaps their blameless spirits had watched over her while she slept the deep sleep of total mental and physical exhaustion.

She thought of her theory that when men were pushed into a corner, they felt no qualms about sacrificing whoever stood in their way. Since hearing Prudence's horrific confession, Lilly had revised that opinion to include the female of the species. Evidently, some women were just as capable as their male counterparts at cunning, subterfuge, and murder. For that's exactly what Prudence had done when she left her daughter and grandson here to die. And murder was precisely what she'd intended when she locked Lilly in the attic room.

A bitter lesson learned, one that would stand her in good stead in the future. If she had a future. She glanced around the small room. There must be some way to get out. She would not die in this sepulcher without trying to escape! Instead of resorting to her earlier panic, she sat perfectly still and pondered her situation. Screaming and pounding would do her no good. Prudence was long gone, and there was no one to hear her but Sarah and her baby. Lilly had to use her mind instead of her battered body. When the sun set, she would be unable to see, and any attempt to escape would have to be postponed until morning, unless someone from town missed her and came to help. Even then, would they find her up here?

She couldn't leave salvation to chance. There must be some way to open the door from this side. She knew her arms weren't strong enough, but her legs and thighs had done a good job of moving the heavy trunk. Could she possibly use the strength of her back and legs to push out the single nail holding the latch and move aside the things blocking the doorway? How strong could one nail be?

She soon learned that with the trunk and mirror in front of it, the door refused to budge an inch. Fighting back the threat of tears, she drew in a deep breath. Oh, if Robert Pinkerton could see her now! How he would gloat. She could imagine his smug smile, could hear him say, “I told you this is no job for a woman.”

Blast Robert Pinkerton! She might die here, but not for lack of trying.
Use your head, Lilly. You're a smart woman. Physical strength isn't everything.
There had to be some way to get out of this cursed place!

The only other means of escape was the window, and it was three stories aboveground. Pushing the negative thought away, she crossed the small room to see what lay below. She tried to remember what the rear of the house looked like and recalled that the back porch ran the length of the house, so the porch roof would only go to the floor level of the second story. The problem became how to get from level three to a first-floor roof.

Rubbing the grime from the panes with her bandaged hand, Lilly leaned close and cupped the sides of her face to peer out. All remnants of the rain were gone but the glistening wetness. The last light of day would soon be pushed away by the encroaching darkness, but right now there was still plenty of light, and she could see the backyard and the gaping hole she'd dug. Despite her determination to escape her prison, the sight sent a shiver of apprehension through her. Suddenly, a mockingbird's medley came through the window. The sassy song gave her a feeling of hope, and with it renewed determination.

Yes! The porch roof was there, as she'd known it would be, but even if she managed to . . . Something gave her pause. The roof below her was too small and too near to be the back porch covering. Instead, this roof was peaked and came all the way to the top of the second story, which put it within jumping distance from the window she was looking out of—if she could fit through the window.

Unable to see what lay to either side of her, she closed her eyes and tried again to picture how the back of the house looked from the cemetery. She recalled the layout of the upper rooms she'd searched earlier in the week and remembered a bedroom with two nice-size dormer windows that overlooked the rear yard. One had been used for sewing; the other boasted a window seat and a ready supply of books. This was the roof she was seeing! Below them ran the roofline of the back porch. Perhaps there was a chance.

The first thing she had to do was open the window. She soon learned that was an impossibility, which meant she had to break out the glass and wood that made up the individual panes. Sitting on the floor, she pulled off one of her muddy boots. Grabbing it across the top, she turned her face away and swung the heel at a pane. Her reward was the tinkling of glass and a slight sting as a few shards nicked her wrist and forearm.

In no more than a minute, all the glass was broken out, but the wood dividers remained. A visual search of the room revealed a small, three-legged stool in the corner. A surge of anger swept through her. Harold certainly hadn't intended for Prudence to be comfortable while he seduced the young women downstairs.

Lilly took the stool by two legs and swung it at the window with all her might, pretending she was swinging it at Harold Purcell's handsome, arrogant face. After several minutes, she found success. She blotted perspiration from her face on the shoulder of her chemise and set the stool beneath the window.

After replacing her boot, she took stock of things. Even standing on the stool, she would have to cling to the lower sill and try to give a little leap to get into position to wiggle through the opening, which was no more than two by two feet. First, she needed to pick out all the little slivers of glass around the frame and watch out for the stubborn nail that poked down from the top. She'd bent it as best she could, but it would still make a vicious gouge if she didn't stay clear of it.

Painstakingly, she plucked out the jagged pieces of glass and counted it a blessing that she only cut herself twice. Then, stepping onto the stool, she tried to hoist herself up and through the small opening. Bolts of agony shot through her raw palms. On the second try she jumped and dug the toes of her boots against the wall. The stool tipped over, but she managed to gain enough purchase to stiffen her elbows, heave upward, and get her head and shoulders through, though it felt as if the contrary nail had snagged her hair.

She hung in the window with the bottom of the frame digging in just below her ribs, staring down at the dormer roof. How could she maneuver herself to go down feetfirst? The opening didn't allow much room for manipulation, and now that she was looking directly at the dormer, she saw that it was much smaller than she remembered. There was the possibility that she would hit the peaked roof—the slippery,
wet
peaked roof—and fall all the way to the top of the porch, which meant the chance of a broken limb, or even loss of life.

While she was considering the odds of getting one leg through the opening, she heard the sound of heavy boots on the stairs. Her heart began to race. Had Prudence come to finish her off, or had she had a change of heart and come to let her out? Lilly heard the clatter of boxes being set aside and was torn between elation and fear. Should she hide in the corner and try to overpower Prudence as she came through the door? Maybe it was someone from town....

She didn't hear the latch being turned for the wild beating of her heart, and when the door opened, she was still dangling in the aperture. Jerking her head to look over her shoulder, she banged her temple on the window frame and uttered a mild curse.

Squinting against the pain, she saw a large frame blocking the doorway. A sharp gasp of surprise and recognition escaped her. The boxer stood in the doorway, a grudging half smile curving his lips as he regarded her predicament.

“What are you doing here?” she asked in disbelief.

The smile died, and he gave a shake of his head. “Aren't you the grateful one?” His deep voice held a note of sarcasm. He gave a low whistle. “And aren't you a proper mess? It looks as if Mrs. Reverend rowed you up Salt River.”

“She gave me hell, all right, even though she never touched me,” Lilly rasped through her aching throat. “Believe it or not, other than locking me in this room, I managed to do all this to myself. Who the devil
are
you, and why have you been following me?”

With another sardonic smile, he pulled a badge from his vest pocket, and said, “Andrew Cadence McShane, Pinkerton agent, at your service, ma'am.” There was no mistaking the mockery in his tone.

Lilly wondered if the self-inflicted blow to the head had affected her hearing. “You're not a boxer?”

His smile could only be described as bleak. “Believe me, though I have finally lived long enough to regret it, I have been known to crack a few heads from time to time, both in the ring and without.” The expression on his face was grim. “Actually, I was assigned to be your watchdog.”

“What!” Lilly jerked in surprise, knocking her head against the window frame once again.

“To the annoyance of us both, I'm sure. Since this was your first assignment, William sent me to keep an eye on you.”

Irritation mingled with relief. “Then where in blazes have you been?”

Cadence McShane made a
tsking
sound as he moved toward her. He made a sketchy sign of the cross as he passed by the remains on the cot.

“Hardly the language of a lady,” he said, “and a bit of an ungrateful attitude, if you don't mind me repeating myself.”

He placed his hands on her waist. “Let go, and I'll lift you down. Watch that nail, now.”

Still miffed, though she didn't even know why, she allowed him to lift her down and realized her midriff hurt like the very dickens. Securely on the floor, she glared up at him. “Have you followed me out here before?”

McShane wasn't in the least intimidated. “I have.”

Well, that explained why she'd felt someone watching her. She balled her hand into a fist and hit his shoulder. It was like striking a rock. “You scared the devil out of me.”

“Sorry.”

He didn't sound sorry. He sounded as if it was all in a day's work, and she supposed for him it was.

“I've been around all along, but you're a wee bit hard to keep up with, colleen,” he told her in a distracted tone as he began to remove the filthy rags wrapped around her hands.

“Don't call me colleen,” Lilly commanded through teeth gritted together in pain and irritation.

The man who'd been sent to follow her looked at her with a sardonic lift of his eyebrows. Seeing the oozing abrasions and the small cuts, he pulled a pristine handkerchief from his pocket and began to dab at them, continuing his ministrations and his explanation as if he'd never been interrupted. “I had to track down where you were staying every time you moved around, and I never knew when you might be leaving town. I've been half a day behind you since you left Springfield. You told me you were leaving there the night you were almost run down, but I had no idea you'd head back to Vandalia.

“When I telegraphed William, he told me he'd neither seen nor heard from you since you'd said you were returning. I thought it was worth a shot to come back to Vandalia.”

“When I didn't find you at the hotel, I figured you'd come back out here for some reason. As luck would have it, the fella at the livery told me where you'd gone when I went to rent a horse. He also told me that another woman had rented a buggy and had headed out this direction. It was a good bit later that he'd finally recognized Mrs. Purcell. He said she was acting so strangely that he was worried about you. He was getting ready to go tell the sheriff when I arrived.”

Thank goodness for Billy Bishop, too.

“I was about halfway here when I saw your rig hightailing it back to town. Knowing that Mrs. Purcell was going this way, I suspected something was wrong, so I got a hustle on things. I finally saw her up ahead of me and had to hang back until we got here. God help me and my job if I'd have lost you.”

Seeing the question in her eyes, his expression hardened. “Never mind.”

“That must have been ages ago,” Lilly complained. “Why are you just now getting here?”

“Mmm,” he agreed with a little shrug, giving her palm another pat with the hanky. “I wasn't checking my watch. I'd just arrived and tied my horse in the woods when I heard you screaming.”

Lilly's face grew hot with embarrassment. He must have thought she was as mad as Prudence Purcell.

“It looked as if Mrs. Purcell was still trying to figure out what to do. I had the distinct impression she hadn't expected anyone to be here. She seemed really surprised to see your buggy. She was pacing and flinging her arms around talking to herself. Finally, she followed you inside.”

“Why didn't you try to stop her?”

“One of the first things you need to learn, colleen, is that in this business, you never go into a place until you've done some reconnaissance. You never know when someone is armed, or if they have others with them. You don't want to walk in blind and take a chance on getting ambushed. I looked around a bit to get the lay of things and then unhitched her horse and sent it back to town so she couldn't slip out and get away. She must have followed you up here and locked you in while I was doing that. I was watching her mare heading down the lane when she stepped out onto the porch.”

“Well, what took you so long to get up here after that?” Lilly asked sharply. “Why didn't you just arrest her and come get me? I've been here for hours.”