The Bartered Bride. Cheryl Reavis
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coming from her. She stayed in a tight ball on the floor, covering her head with her hands, trying to ward off the blows, knowing Avery wouldn’t stop.
But he was jerked away from her suddenly, his feet coming up off the floor.
“Mein Gott! You kill the girl!” someone cried.
William knelt beside her, weeping loudly. “Caroline. Caroline!”
Don’t cry, William.
She wanted to say it, but no words came. He kept trying to make her sit up, as if he thought that her being upright would somehow negate everything that had gone on before. She tried hard to do what he wanted—he was crying so—but she sagged against him, her fingers digging into his shirt to keep herself from falling. Her hands shook. Her whole body shook.
Another pair of hands reached for her, and she cowered away from them, expecting to be hit again.
“Nein, Fraulein,” John Steigermann said gently, wrapping her shawl around her. “Kommen Sie—come with me. Es ist Zeit.”
It’s time? she thought, recognizing the German phrase. For what, John Steigermann?
“Avery…” she whispered, trying to see where he’d gone.
“You don’t worry about your brother. He don’t bother you now. Come.” He was a big man and he lifted her easily in spite of her protest, carrying her across the kitchen toward the back door.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she heard Avery say.
“She goes to my house, Avery Holt,” John Steigermann said. “Leah and Frau Steigermann will take care of her. You keep yourself and your bad temper here until I send for you.”
“This is none of your damn business!”
“I am a Christian man, Avery Holt. It is my business.”
They were outside in the cold wind, and she hid her face against John Steigermann’s coat, the movement causing her to cry out in pain. He lifted her carefully into the buggy. She closed her eyes tightly as the horse lunged forward, and she let herself be held fast in one of John Steigermann’s big arms.
She was given a hot broth to drink and put to bed in a small upstairs room in the Steigermann house. The bed had been warmed, but she still trembled, and she couldn’t stop crying. She had had to have help to undress. Thankfully, it was provided by John Steigermann’s quiet wife rather than his daughter, Leah. She couldn’t bear the look she saw in Leah’s eyes, the profound relief that it was Caroline Holt who had been caught and not Leah Steigermann. Caroline wanted only to be left alone—or to die—but she knew from the whispering that went on around her that neither was likely. Arrangements concerning her were still being made without her knowledge or consent. She had no doubt that John Steigermann was a good man. He had saved her from Avery—but now what was he to do with her?
She slept finally, and she awoke to find that she had completely lost track of time. A cedar wood fire burned low on the hearth. It was daylight, and she seemed to remember being offered things to eat and drink a number of times. The sun had been shining then, too. Was it still the same day? She didn’t know.
She made it to the chamber pot and back with difficulty because the nightgown Leah had provided for her was much too long and because every muscle in her body hurt. She climbed painfully back into the narrow bed and closed her eyes. She was far too miserable to take stock of her surroundings, and yet she was surprised to note that she was actually hungry. Even so, she feigned sleep when she heard the door creak open. It was all she could do not to weep. Why were these people being so kind to her? She didn’t deserve anyone’s kindness. She couldn’t stay here—and she had absolutely no place to go.
Someone sniffed loudly, and she opened her eyes. William stood at the foot of the bed.
“Caroline?” he said, his voice tremulous and worried. He had his old felt hat crumpled in his hands, and he was as ill at ease as if he were about to call on a total stranger.
She motioned for him to come closer. Her eyes were badly swollen. She turned her head carefully on the pillow so she could see him out of the slit of vision that remained. She realized how bad she must look by his sharp intake of breath. She could see him better now; tears ran down both his cheeks.
“Don’t,” she said, reaching for his hand. His hand was chapped and tough from working outdoors, and cold from his walk to the Steigermanns’. “Don’t cry.”
He gave a halfhearted shrug and tried to do as she asked. “Are you all right, Caroline?” he asked after a moment.
“I’m all right—except that I’m not sure how long I’ve been here.”
“It’s almost two days—Caroline, I should have done something. Look at you,” he said, tears rolling down his face again. “I should have stopped him—”
“William, don’t. Come sit here.” She patted the bed beside her.
He did as she asked, sitting down heavily because he was a big, awkward boy. He jarred her painfully and she tried not to wince.
“It ain’t right, Caroline,” he said, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his coat. “How can this be right? I ain’t staying in that house with Avery anymore. I’m strong and I know farming. Somebody around here will hire me—maybe I’ll go to the army. I could fight the Yankees, I reckon. I can shoot a gun—”
“No!” Caroline said sharply. “William, please. Don’t make this any worse for me. I can’t worry about you, too. You stay with Avery and you do what he says.”
“Caroline—”
“Do it, William. Because I ask you to, if nothing else. Does Avery know you’re here?”
“I’m supposed to be plowing.”
“William—”
“I couldn’t stand not knowing anything, Caroline! I had to come over here.”
“I’m…glad you did, but you’d better get the plowing done now. You don’t want Avery to find you gone.”
“I hate that house with you not there, Caroline,” he said, his misery showing plainly on his face. “What’s going to happen to you?”
“I…don’t know, William. I think Mother had some relatives in Virginia. Maybe I could write to one of them. Maybe they’d let me stay there until” Her voice trailed away. Until what? She hadn’t dared think that far ahead. “Go on home now. Go on. I promise I won’t do anything or go anywhere without letting you know.”
He stood up because she pushed him, but he didn’t leave.
“Caroline—”
“I’m sorry, William,” she said. “I…didn’t mean to be so bad.”
“You ain’t bad, Caroline! You ain’t the first woman this happened to. Don’t you go saying you’re bad! And nobody else better not say it, either!”
He abruptly bent down to her, giving her an awkward hug, the way he used to when he was a small child. “I’m going to take care of you, Caroline. Don’t you worry about that.” He stood for a moment longer, then abruptly went out the door, bumping into something in the hall on his way downstairs.
“Little brother,” she whispered, trying not to cry. She gave a wavering sigh. She had never felt so bereft in her life. William’s love was unconditional and far more than she deserved.
She struggled to sit up on the side of the bed. She had lain in the dark like a wounded animal long enough. She had to get dressed. She had to think. She had to make