And then she heard it.There was no mistake this time.It was no dream.No nightmare.The sound of someone walking.Moving about downstairs.
She listened and waited, trying to convince herself that he had returned, after all.She prayed that these were the sounds of her father’s boots.She tried to imagine him coming in after his difficult journey.Exhausted after a long ride through the dark of night.
If her father was in fact the person downstairs, he would have no way of knowing that she’d arrived in Elkhorn and that she was upstairs.The owner of the livery knew.Caleb Marlowe knew.But her father might not have seen either of them at this time of night.
“Where’s the dang cabinet?”A man’s voice reached her.
Sheila’s hopes took flight like a bird with a shattered wing, immediately plummeting downward with ever-increasing speed.Optimism turned to caution.And then to fear.It wasn’t him.Someone else, knowing the town doctor was missing, had broken in to steal his valuable surgical equipment and medicines.
What would he do if he found her here?
The sound of someone else reached her from the kitchen.There was more than one person downstairs.
Cold fear prickled in her scalp and washed down her neck, spreading through her like icy spring floodwaters.Iron claws clutched her throat, squeezing it in a grip so tight, she could taste the burning bile.
She had to do something.She couldn’t stand and wait and surrender like some damsel in a dime novel.
Fear might make her hands shake a little, but it would not make her helpless.
Sheila reached for the shotgun.It was loaded, both barrels.It was similar to a longer gun she’d fired many times, target-shooting at the home of a friend on the banks of the Hudson.But could she shoot aman?
She heard the sound of footsteps again, right below her.The floorboards were creaking under someone’s weight, and then a door squeaked.Whoever it was, he’d gone into her father’s consulting room.
Sheila looked wildly at the door, at the window.She had to get out.
When she was up and halfway across the room, she stopped dead.A man was coming up the stairs.
A gruff voice called up sharply from the foot of the stairway.“Where the hell you think you’re going?”
“I heard something.”The answer came from the upstairs hallway.
Panic tore at her.Her brain was on fire.She could barely think.Barely breathe.
Sheila forced her leaden legs to move.She backed toward the window.She had to jump.It was only the second story.But before she could push the window open, her door swung inward.
“Damn my eyes.What do we have here?”
“Stay where you are.”Sheila pressed her back against the wall and pointed the shotgun, ready to shoot.
The man was tall and burly, and his wide body filled the doorway.From the sound of his voice, he was not much older than she was, if that.He wore a dark-brown coat, a black waistcoat, and a bandana.Tan pants were tucked into boots.The wide brim of his brown hat cast a shadow across a round, boyish face.He wore a smirk, however, that was as menacing as his voice.
“Ain’t this a nice surprise.”
Sheila’s heart hammered in her chest.Her palms sweated.She didn’t think she’d ever been as frightened as she was at this moment.Suddenly, the future her grandfather had planned for her in New York felt very appealing.
Then she thought of a lifetime spent behind curtains and carriage windows, safe and watched and never free, and she tightened her grip on the shotgun.
“What do you want?”she asked.
“Want?You’ll find out soon enough, sweet pea.”
She raised the weapon an inch, pointing it at the man’s chest.“You take even one step into this room, and I’ll blast you back into that hallway.”
“Will you now?”he sneered.“Well, maybe I’ll just test your spunk and…”
A hand appeared from outside the door, clutching his collar and yanking the intruder back into the hallway.
“Dodger, I am sick and tired of you being such an ass.”
