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His back was to Hart, as if he'd forgotten him. And perhaps he had. He was clearly mad, obsessed with this woman he couldn't have.
Not taking his eyes off her, Hart knelt carefully down and plucked a large stone from the ground. He tested it in his hand. He couldn't have used the pistol even if he'd retrieved it. She was so near, just behind Matthew's head. But if he could sneak close enough it would be a simple thing to slam the rock down and pull Emma into his arms.
"Why won't you love me?" Matthew groaned.
Emma was weeping, shaking her head. "I've loved you as a friend, Matthew, cared for you. And your father loves you, depends on you. Please don't do this. What will he do without you?"
He flung his hand up in frustration, and Hart froze at the flash of sunlight on metal. A knife. A long knife, surely sharper than any he'd ever seen before. "You will be mine," he gasped. "It's the only way."
Hart raised the stone, eased one foot closer, but Matthew's head snapped around at the scrape of sound. "Leave us!" He let go of Emma and swept the knife in a grand arc that stirred the air near Hart's face.
He jumped back as a strange sound reached his ears. A rumble that shook the stone beneath his feet, punctuated by tiny pings and cracks.
Emma screamed and clutched at unyielding rock as the stones beneath her feet seemed to sink. Pebbles fell like rain.
Hart yelled, "Don't move," but Matthew was shifting. He reached for an ancient arm of root that protruded from a crevice. Even as his feet wobbled against a rocking stone, Matthew was swinging the knife back toward Emma.
Hart gave up on yelling and began to beg. "Please don't. I beg you. Don't hurt her." But the knife drove toward her and Hart could do nothing. "No."
"No!" Emma screamed, and then the knife was on her, sawing into her belly and she gasped and threw her hands up as Hart felt his heart shatter to dust.
"Go," Matthew snapped. "Go past me."
She looked down at her belly just as Hart did. There was no blood, and her hands were free. They both stared stupidly at the rope that curled over the tops of her feet.
Hart snapped back to sanity first. "Come, Emma. Quick and careful. Try to hang onto the wall."
She nodded and reached shaking hands up to grasp at the jagged rock near Matthew's shoulder. She eased closer to him, sobbed when a rock simply disappeared from beneath her toes. The whole floor would break and roll away any moment.
"Hurry," Matthew urged, as he wrapped an arm around her and eased her past him. The man's other hand strained against the root, but Hart could see the dead root twisting, raining bits of brittle wood down on their heads.
Just as Emma made it past Matthew, the shale beneath her sank a good six inches, throwing her to her knees. Her hands were close to solid rock now and she tried to crawl. Hart winced as he fell to his own knees and scrambled forward to grab her hands. But she slipped back. The rumble started again, freezing them all in their places.
She spread her arms wide to try to balance her weight.
"Reach for me," Hart ordered, but she shook her head.
"I can't."
They stared at each other, separated by three feet of rock that was cracking like glass beneath them. Hart tore his gaze from hers and looked up to Matthew. The man's eyes had lost the bright gleam of madness. His face was set in a sorrow that Hart recognized.
He met Hart's gaze for a long moment of understanding, then he slowly uncurled his fist from the small safety of the root. Stones shifted beneath him, rocking him as he knelt down and reached for Emma's feet. One swipe of the knife and her legs were free to help her scramble up.
Matthew nodded. "I love you, Emily. I only ever loved you." Then, as Hart reached down and grabbed one of her outstretched hands, Matthew gave her a hard push from beneath. The force threw Emma to the safety of solid ground and loosened the last of the cliff beneath Matthew's feet.
His face was set in calm grief as he slipped from sight, as the rocks fell away and set him free for a short moment. Hart heard silence and then a grotesque thud as the ground caught Matthew's body far below.
But Emma was wrapping her arms around him, her body shuddering with life, and Hart couldn't dredge up any sympathy for the man. Emma could, it seemed. Before she'd finished sobbing she pulled away and crawled toward the new edge of shale.
"Emma, don't. Don't look. It's not safe."
"But. . . Matthew." She shook off his restraining hand and eased her head closer to the precipice. He knew she'd spotted the body when she stiffened, turning to pale marble as he watched. Hart glanced over also, just to be sure. There was no doubt the man was dead. When he tugged her back she gave in and slumped into his lap.
"We need to get off this cliff. And the authorities must be informed."
The fear had left her eyes now, along with everything else. She stared straight ahead, gaze blank as death, and the sight spurred Hart to stand and carry her back to the highest point of the ledge. He eased her up, hating the way she just sat there. This wasn't his Emma; he prayed to God that she hadn't gone far, that she'd be back.
After wrapping her in a blanket, he gathered the reins of the old mare and scooped Emma up. Somehow he managed to mount the gelding without killing all of them.
