AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Time crawled past, each tick of the wall clock weighted with despair. Kristin encouraged the others to get some sleep. But her words were wasted. No one could close an eye. Lars got up and went out to check the horses. The three women might have used the time to discuss what was happening. But they were drained of words, and there were too many secrets among them. All they could do was gaze at each other across the table or make feeble attempts at small talk. All of them were thinking of the beautiful, foolish young girl with the willful heart. Would they ever see her again or hear the sound of her careless laughter?
Lars returned. Britta looked at him and shook her head. He settled back onto his chair, muttering something in his native Swedish. It sounded like a prayer.
It was after two o’clock in the morning when the knock came. Kristin rushed to the door. Sheriff Calhoun, muddy and haggard, stood on the threshold. “We found her.” His voice was hoarse with exhaustion. “I’m sorry.”
The three Andersons rushed into the parlor. Lars was white with shock. Inga, half fainting, leaned on Britta for support.
“Where did you find her?” Kristin asked. “Can you tell us what happened? Was it an accident?”
The sheriff sighed. “No, not an accident. We found her lying in the field. Evidently, she’d had a miscarriage and couldn’t stop the bleeding afterward. We’ll need you to do an examination, Doctor, to determine whether there was any foul play involved. But it appears that she died from blood loss.”
A sound like the cry of a wounded animal rose from Inga. Her legs sagged beneath her. Britta caught her and laid her on the couch before she could fall to the floor.
Lars had gone rigid with shock. “You say my girl had a miscarriage? She was with child?” he demanded.
“I’m afraid that much is true,” the sheriff said.
“Then it was the baby that killed her!” Color flooded Lars’s face as his emotions swung from shock to rage. “That devil, Mason Dollarhide! I’m going to kill him!”
“No, Papa!” Britta flew to his side, stroking his arm in an effort to calm him.
“Killing the man would be murder, Mr. Anderson,” the sheriff said. “You’d probably hang for it. I suggest you get control of yourself and wait for the investigation.”
“And how long will that take?” Lars stormed. “If you don’t round up that devil now, he’ll be on his way out of the country, just like last time.”
“Mr. Dollarhide has been cautioned not to leave town,” the sheriff said. “If he’s responsible, the law will make him pay.”
Kristin had been listening. When she’d set up her practice in Blue Moon, she’d been aware that serving as coroner might become part of the job. She certainly hadn’t looked forward to it, but now, suddenly, she saw it as an urgent way to move forward.
Now she motioned the sheriff outside, onto the porch. “You’ve dealt with Mr. Anderson before,” she said. “You know he can be difficult. But he’s a father who loved his daughter. He deserves answers as soon as we can get them. So does his family. If you have Gerda’s remains, I could do an exam now. Would that be possible?”
“My deputy’s bringing in the body on a cart. There’s a storage room with a gurney in the rear of the jail, but—”
“No, have him bring her to my surgery. I’ll have everything I need there. What about her baby?” The question was vital for what she needed.
“It’s with the body. She was holding it in her arms.”
Emotion tore at Kristin’s heart. But she was a doctor with a job to do. “Get your deputy to bring her to my place. I’ll talk with the Anderson family and meet you there.”
As the sheriff left, Kristin went back inside to face Gerda’s family. Inga was sitting up on the sofa. Britta sat beside her, one arm around her mother’s shoulders. Lars was pacing the floor. His fists were clenched, his face flushed with rage.
“Please sit down, Lars,” Kristin said. “I have something important to say.”
“I don’t care what you say,” Lars snapped. “If you’re defending that no-good half-brother of yours, I don’t want to hear it.”
“I’m not defending anyone. But we all need to know the truth. The sheriff’s men are bringing Gerda’s body to my surgery. I’ll be examining her in the hope of finding out how she died and whether anyone, including Mason, was responsible. I promise to tell you everything—no matter how painful it might be.”
“Leave her alone!” Lars thundered. “We already know how she died. And we know who was responsible.”
“Stop it, Lars.” Inga was on her feet, shaky but defiant as she faced down her towering husband. “This must be done. We need to know the truth. Go ahead, Kristin. If you need permission, you have it from me.”
“Thank you, Inga,” Kristin said, although she already had permission from the sheriff. “As for you, Lars, I’ll get back to you soon as I can—it shouldn’t be more than an hour or two. Promise me you’ll stay here with your family while I do my work. They’ll be needing you.”
“Just don’t take too long,” Lars growled. “That bastard got away once. He’s not getting away again.”
* * *
By the time Kristin arrived home, the horse-drawn cart, with Gerda’s remains swaddled in a canvas sheet, was waiting outside the gate. The sheriff was there as well. The two men grasped the canvas by either end, lifted the body off the cart, and carried it through the door, across the front room, and into the surgery. Neither of them spoke. This was all that remained of a beautiful girl and a child who would never draw breath. Silence was all the respect they could pay.
