To Love and to Cherish (35 page)

“And now you think you’re being punished?” Incredulity filled her voice. “That’s not the God we worship, Thomas.”

She was right. He sucked in air and exhaled, willing the emotions to flee in the face of a greater faith.
God, forgive me for my lack of faith. I give this up to You
. “We’ll find her.”

He drew back on the reins and brought the buggy to an abrupt halt. Emma hopped out and ran up the steps. Thomas grabbed a flashlight and followed. She fumbled for the knob. The door opened. She hadn’t locked it. Such were the Plain ways. What they had, they shared, so they thought little of leaving doors unlocked. Thomas stayed close behind her, even though he knew in his heart Rebecca couldn’t be inside. As grownup as she liked to believe she was, she still feared the dark. She would’ve lit the lamp.

Emma lit it now. The flames made shadows that danced across the walls as the lamp swung slightly in her hand. She held it up high. “Rebecca?”

“She’s not here.”

“Try the outhouse, then.” Emma slapped the lamp on a desk and moved toward the stove. “I’ll build up the fire. We’ll need to get her warm after we find her.”

“You stay here. Wait for the others. Josiah should be close behind with any other men he’s gathering.”

“You’ll not go alone.”

They glared at each other. Emma grabbed wood from the pile and stoked the glowing embers in the stove’s belly. When she turned her face was set. She reminded Thomas so much of her Aunt Louise. Strong will ran through the Shirack women. As a wife, she would be a handful. She brushed her hands together briskly. “Let’s not waste time. I won’t get in your way, and I won’t slow you down. You wanted to help me. Now, let me help you.”

The lump in his throat didn’t allow Thomas to respond. He nodded.

Together, they hurried down the steps. He snagged a second flashlight from the buggy and handed it to her. He took the boys’ outhouse, Emma, the girls’. Nothing.

“Where can she be?” Frustration filled Thomas. “Rebecca! Rebecca, come out now!”

As if this were a simple game of hide-and-go-seek.

Snowflakes glittered in the glow of the flashlight. The snow fell in a thick blanket. It would obscure any tracks she might have left. He trained the light in front of him and searched the ground. Many shoes and boots had crossed paths here with the marks left by the wheels of the buggies. Nothing helpful. “The snow will cover her tracks. We have to hurry!”

“Did you ask her friends?” Emma picked up her skirt slightly, revealing sturdy boots. Her pace increased. “Did they go outside after Leah interrupted the pageant?”

“Everything happened very quickly. They didn’t have time to go too far before your aunt told everyone to go home.” Thomas stopped long enough to grab his rifle from backseat of the buggy. Gratitude seeped through him that providence had kept him from putting it away after the hunting trip earlier in the week. “I didn’t know she was lost until I got to Mudder’s house. Eli told her Rebecca was with me. That boy… sometimes…he doesn’t think. He just figured if she wasn’t with him, she had to be with me.”

“He’s a child.” Emma puffed as she scurried to keep up with his pace. “Why do you have that rifle? Why do we need it?”

“I’ve been out hunting several times in the last two months. I keep seeing coyotes—or signs of coyotes. The snow has brought them in closer to the farm.” He stopped and searched the ground again. One set of small tracks moving away from the school. “We’ve lost chickens, a calf, even a piglet. It’s best to keep the rifle handy.”

For the first time, Emma looked frightened. Thomas slowed. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait at the school?”

“No.”

The light picked up small, even boot tracks in the road. They veered off toward the edge and then into the deeper snow that led to a dark stand of trees. “Rebecca? Rebecca!” No answer. Just the sound of his voice echoing in the silence. “Why would she leave the road?”

Emma’s response was a breathless shake of her head. They threaded their way through the trees, the combined light of their flashlights illuminating the thick darkness several yards in front of them.

Emma gasped as she plowed forward. “Surely she went back to the road.”

The wind whipping up flurries of snow around him, Thomas squatted for a closer look at the tracks. What he saw made him close his eyes for a second. Animal tracks curved around the small footprints—most likely those of a little girl.

“Unless something drove her deeper into the trees. Something that scared her.” Panic twisted his tongue, making the words come out in a stutter. “Something that scared her more than the dark.”

D
aed! Help me! Someone help me!”

Thomas stopped moving.

His daughter’s high-pitched scream filled his head, blotting out everything else. The trees, the snow wet on his face, the icy north wind, the black night sky, the entire rest of the world disappeared from his periphery. “Rebecca! Where are you?”

“Daed!”

Flashlight held high, Thomas stumbled forward. He whipped the light back and forth, desperate to see. Trees and more trees. Nothing but trees, their branches dipping and dancing in the wind. And Rebecca’s terrified voice beyond the reach of the light.

Panic sent him careening forward. “Rebecca, are you all right?”

“Slow down! You’ll fall,” Emma shouted. “It won’t do any good to break your neck. We’ve got her.”

Got her? Not yet. She was close, but still too far away. He couldn’t see her or protect her from whatever threat compelled her to scream for her father in the dark. “Rebecca, keep talking. I need to hear your voice so that I can come to you!”

“Daed, Daed, the coyote!”

Dread weighted down his legs. So heavy. They were so heavy. They wanted to topple under him. Instead, he plowed through the snow,
forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other, faster and faster. “Don’t move, Rebecca, don’t run. Stay still.”

“It chased me, Daed, but now I can’t see it.” Her whimpers filled the air, the sound like a sharp blade under his fingernails. “I can’t see where it went.”

“Keep talking, I’m almost there. I’m coming to get you.” Thomas let his momentum carry him down a slope toward the stream where he’d seen the coyote before Thanksgiving. Now ice and snow covered the waterway, making it possible to cross it on foot. “I’m coming. Don’t move. Be still. I’m almost there.”

“I’m not moving. I’m being still.” Her childish voice served as a beacon in the dark. “I’m being brave, aren’t I?”

“You’re doing fine. I’m almost there. Then we’ll talk about why you never leave a building to walk home in the dark alone.” Panting, Thomas hurled himself toward her voice. The toe of his boot caught on a gnarly root. He flailed for a second and down he went, face first into the snow.

The flashlight, its beam rocking crazily, disappeared into the bank of snow. The rifle slid in the opposite direction. He rolled and rolled until he smacked against a fir tree. His head hit the trunk.

Darkness swallowed him whole.

“Thomas!
Ach
, Thomas! Get up!” Emma shook his arm. He didn’t move. She shoved her hands under his arms and tried to lift him to a sitting position. His head lolled to the side. She laid him back in the snow and patted his face. “You need to get up. We have to get to Rebecca.”

“Who is that? Who’s that talking? Daed, are you still coming?” The little girl’s voice echoed with fearful uncertainty in the darkness. “Are you there?”

Her hands shaking, Emma shone her flashlight on Thomas’s face. Blood dripped from a cut on his forehead. His eyes were closed. She put
a palm on his chest. It heaved. He still breathed. “Wake up, Thomas, wake up! Rebecca needs you!”

Rebecca’s sobbing intensified. Desperate, Emma whirled and searched the snow with the flashlight. There. The rifle. She swooped down and grabbed it. “I’ll be right back. I promise.” His still form didn’t move.

Her heart clanging against her ribcage, she trotted toward the sound of Rebecca’s sobs. The stand of trees opened into a clearing. Emma edged forward, flashlight in one hand, rifle in the other. A few more yards and the flashlight picked up the white of her face. The girl crouched behind a fallen tree trunk. “There you are.” Emma swung the flashlight across the expanse of open space. Nothing that looked threatening. Nothing moved. “Are you hurt?”

“Where’s my daed?” Rebecca’s hiccupping sobs slowed. She pushed away from the trunk. “I heard his voice. Then it stopped.”

“He’s waiting for you nearby. He hurt his head so I came ahead.”

“He’s hurt?” Rebecca’s voice rose. “Is he…is he dead?”

Emma’s heart broke. It would be Rebecca’s first thought. Having had a mother die. “He’s not dead. He’s alive. Just got a bump on his head.” She needed to get Rebecca’s mind off Thomas and get her out of here before another coyote came upon them. “We need to go to him.”

“I hurt my ankle. I wanted to walk home so Daed wouldn’t have to come get me and be worried.” Rebecca hobbled toward her. “But I saw the coyote and it scared me so I ran into the woods. Then I twisted my ankle, and I couldn’t run anymore.”

“I don’t see the coyote now. Maybe you scared him away.” Emma hugged the girl close. Rebecca’s hands and face were icy cold. Her skin had a white, frozen feel to it that scared Emma. “We need to get you home. You’re so cold.”

“I don’t feel cold anymore.” Rebecca rubbed her mittens together. “My fingers and toes don’t even hurt anymore. But my tummy does.”

Frostbite? Emma wondered if she had the strength to carry a six-year-old back to the fire. “Let’s get to the schoolhouse, and I’ll make you some hot tea.”

“What if the coyote’s out there? He had big teeth and growled really loud.” Rebecca shuddered in Emma’s arms. “I didn’t like him very much. I liked the white owl I saw outside the school better.”

She raised her head. “That’s why I got left behind. I didn’t feel good so I went outside to the…you know…the outhouse…and I saw the owl. I wanted to get closer—”

“We’ll talk about it later.” Emma was certain Thomas would have plenty to say to Rebecca about her irresponsible behavior. Poor Rebecca’s case of nerves over the pageant had led her to this spot. “Right now, we need to get to your father.”

They started forward. A deep, hair-raising growl stopped them. Fear turned Emma’s legs to pillars of stone. She couldn’t raise her foot to take another step.

“It’s him!” Rebecca’s tiny whisper sounded like a shout in the quiet of the woods. “It’s the—”

“I know. Hush.” Emma pushed the girl behind her and lifted the rifle. She’d never shot another living thing in her life. “Stay behind me.”

The coyote stalked deeper into the clearing. Its coat matted and dirty like an old rug, the animal stood out against the white backdrop of snow lit by the moon overhead.

Emma raised the rifle to her cheek. Her hands shook. She would never hit the animal. She didn’t want to shoot it, but a child’s life depended on her. “Please go away, please go away, please go away.”

Another deep growl met her whispered command. The coyote crouched, its haunches tense. Yellow fangs appeared. It growled again, a sound that Emma would never forget. It took two steps toward them. Emma stumbled back, Rebecca’s hands entwined in the fabric of her coat.

“Teacher…”

“Shhhhh, shhhh…”

The coyote kept coming. Emma put her finger on the trigger. She closed her eyes for a second.
God, please don’t let me miss
.

T
he blast exploded and lit up the night. Rebecca screamed. Emma jerked back. The recoil sent pain ricocheting through her shoulder, neck, and back. She hung on to the rifle as she staggered, her boots sliding in the wet snow. Had she hit it? Or missed? She peered at the animal. Whimpering, a painful, high sound, it crawled toward her on its haunches, teeth bared. Hit. Gorge rose in her throat.
God, I’m sorry. I had no choice
.

The smell of gunpowder and smoke thick in her nostrils, Emma kept a tight grip on the rifle with one hand. With the other, she grabbed Rebecca and threw her to the ground, then covered her with her body.
Oh, God, please, please. Don’t make me shoot it again
.

The coyote stopped moving. Its body dropped, mouth open in a horrible grimace.

“Emma! Emma! Rebecca! Are you all right?” Josiah’s voice, a welcome sound in the fearful aftermath, rang out. “It’s me, Josiah. Don’t shoot me!”

“Here, we’re here.” She peeked over Rebecca’s head. The coyote sprawled in the snow, still not moving. The teeth looked no less frightening in death than in life. She breathed. “We’re fine.”

A light flared and danced in the clearing. She shielded her eyes. A rifle in one hand, Josiah came into view. His steps were slow, tentative.
Thomas hobbled along behind him, one hand to his head. Josiah edged toward her. “Rifle down?”

“It’s down.”

“We heard a shot,” Josiah squatted next to Emma. “Are you all right?”

Before Emma could answer, Rebecca dragged herself up. She moaned, leaned over, and heaved at Josiah’s feet. “I don’t feel so good.” She coughed and wiped her mouth with the back of her coat sleeve. “My tummy hurts.”