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Impaled, Philo stared, blinking as the pain started in his gut and bled over the rest of him. She could not be in earnest. Dear God, it could not be so. “You never told me this.”
Face crumpled, she turned her back to him. “I never wanted to.”
Was it true? He flung a look to the soldier who stood with them, peering at Philo with the same disdain he felt from even the portrait over the fire.
Philo faced her, scrambling for a scrap of dignity in the rubble of his broken spirit. “Why didn’t Joseph return for you then? If he was as good a man as you claim—”
“He would have if he had known.” She whirled back around, her expression hard. “He was led to believe I hated him, and I was led to believe he wanted nothing more to do with me, so he learned of it only today, as you have.” She paused, inhaling an unsteady breath that cracked Philo’s bones. “I have had this pressing on my heart for so many years. I believed my life would be spent alone, until once again God brought into my life the only man I have ever loved, and once again you have stripped him from me!”
“Hannah…I am so sorry.” Barren and lost, Philo shook his head, his mouth and mind dry as a desert plain. “Hannah, I…I hadn’t meant to hurt you.”
“But you had meant Eaton Hill for yourself.” Tear
s easing, she dabbed at her cheeks with the back of her hand, anger lacing both ends of her words. “Do not think me ignorant of your central desire. Still, I had a part of me that craved your goodwill, that hoped perhaps you wished to be close to me, but you have slayed that now. I should learn never to dream of things that are impossible.”
The blade of her confession stabbed through Philo’s spirit, and it fell to the ground, knees bent and hunching while the rest of him stayed rigid. This was not what he had wanted. He had wanted Eaton Hill, aye, had wanted Joseph away, but he hadn’t wanted to hurt the daughter he loved. Like a haunting remembrance, Ensign’s words preached from the pulpit of his memory. She yearns for your love. But…there is much you do not know of her. She has lost a great deal.
Taking quick shallow breaths, Philo’s sins berated him, beating away the hard covering of pride with every stroke until finally the humble center of him glowed through.
Ensign had been right. These many years when he’d thought himself so noble, ’twas he who had been dishonorable.
Dear God, what have I done?
Philo reached forward, too fearful of upsetting her further to take another step. “Hannah…Hannah, I…” He stopped. What could he say that she would believe? He prayed God would give him strength—that He would help turn her ear to him. “Forgive me, my child. I see now that I was wrong. Please, I wish to make it up to you.”
Hannah’s gaze raised to his as a slight breath left her mouth. “’Tis too late.” Her eyes shifted to Higley before returning to Philo with the force of a winter gale. “You have taken from me the man that I love and sentenced him to death.”
“No.” A violent resistance overtook him. “No, he will—”
“If he is caught, he will be killed, and I would rather lose my own life alongside him than be doomed to live the remainder of my days without him!”
Wailing and gnashing, the demons of Philo’s actions swirled around him. There must be a way to make this right. Joseph was strong, was he not? He could outrun his pursuers. But if not, and if the note were found, these men would do more than hang him…
Philo’s body scalded with the need to act. Wounds began to open in his gut, as if somehow he were feeling for the first time what she had felt—the wounds he had inflicted upon her. He must atone. He must show her his devotion, his change. His love.
Another silent prayer slipped through the enclosing panic, and the reply was instant. Thank you, Lord. God might not be pleased with what he had done, but ’twas clear Providence would look after Hannah.
“I will make this right,” he said, wishing his pledge were enough to dry the sorrows from her eyes.
In a quick about-face, Philo marched to the door, speaking as he went. “I’m going to the raid.” He paused at the door and twisted to look at Higley. “I don’t recommend you try and stop me.”
* * *
“You are going where?” Hannah lunged.
But her father didn’t stop, didn’t turn to look when she cried after him—only ran.
She looked frantically to Higley, who stared through the open door where Philo had gone. He’d said he wished to make it right, and as much as she wanted to believe that were true, there was little that told her she could trust him.
Grabbing her skirts, she raced across the room and snatched Higley by the arm. “Will you just let him go?”
Higley’s angled jaw ticked as if part of his mind were running after Philo’s retreating form, the other part calculating. “I will let him go. But not alone.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Thighs burning from exertion, lungs afire, Joseph ran from the house. The frigid winter air did nothing to cool the anger that flamed him. Philo. The man had always found reason to hate Joseph for his love of Hannah, and now it seemed he would have his revenge.
At the first horse he came to, Joseph leapt onto the saddle and kicked the animal into a run as a clamor of commotion defamed the night’s earlier calm. Pitman barked orders from the front step. Soldiers splashed through ice-covered puddles in the road. Joseph tugged his borrowed mount right, praying that amidst the fray, his path would be lost to his pursuers.
