Slade nodded his appreciation and, once mounted, nudged the horse into a trot.
According to Lane, they could count on Walker, Hez, Henry, and the two of them. Isaac could be called upon in a pinch. So they had five or six—certainly better odds than one against four, even with two of them being eighty.
What really struck him was how quickly Lane had rattled that off. As if accustomed to examining his family through such a lens.
It seemed to take forever to make their way to Monument Square, though he recognized there were few others out on this holy day before Easter. Many businesses were closed, school children ran about at play in the spring sunshine, little traffic clogged the roads.
The shouts could be heard from Marietta’s house from halfway down the street. Kicking their mounts up to a canter for the remaining distance, Slade ended up swinging down a second before Lane at the carriage house.
Barbara and Walker staggered from the side door of the big house, old Jess carried between them. The woman’s head lolled, and a huge patch of red stained her skirt.
“Thunder and turf.” Lane took off at a speed that shouldn’t have been possible for a man of his age, one Slade had trouble keeping up with. “What happened?”
Barbara, holding Jess’s feet, looked up at them with gratitude. “Praise Jesus. I was uncertain I would be able to get her up the stairs. Mr. Hughes shot her. He and his mother and Mari are all gone, and I don’t know to where. He locked me in my room. Walker only just freed me.”
Every vile word he had ever heard vied for a place on his tongue, but Slade bit them all back. He would follow Barbara’s example. “Lord, guide us.” He took Jess’s legs from her and motioned with his head for her to precede them to the carriage house stairs. “When?”
Barbara looked to Walker. “I am unsure how long I was banging on the door after I heard the gunshot, but Mr. Hughes arrived not five minutes after you left, Slade.”
And he had been wasting time pacing the Lanes’ drawing room. That truth knifed through him and left him quaking. Where could Hughes have taken her? Surely not the train station yet. He wouldn’t risk keeping her around all those crowds too long, and the next train didn’t leave for Cumberland until three o’clock.
“She was unconscious when we got to her.” Walker started up the stairs backwards, the lines scored deep in his forehead. “This ain’t gonna help Cora in her labor.”
The door above them opened, and Freeda stepped out with a frown to match her son’s. “Where’s Elsie? Has anyone seen her?”
A twist to the knife. Surely, surely nothing had happened to the girl.
“She’s here in the hedges.” Lane’s voice carried a smile. “I’ll stay with her. She doesn’t need to see her gramma hurt like that.”
That the little girl was safe was a short-lived relief in light of all else that was so very wrong. Slade and Walker got Jess inside and onto the table, Cora’s moans coming from the bedroom. Barbara rushed in behind them and set her black satchel on a chair.
“What…what’s goin’ on?” Cora panted. “Been so much screamin’…”
Barbara shooed Slade and Walker away and leaned over Jess. “Most of that was me, locked in my room. Your mama’s been hurt, Cora, but we’ll take care of her. Can you tell me how you’re doing? Are the pains still worse each time?”
“Mama? How did she get hurt?”
Slade kept his gaze averted, but he could hear rustling from the bedroom.
Freeda waved her hands at him and Walker. “You menfolk get outta here, now. Ain’t no place for you. If we need ya, we’ll call.”
Though his friend seemed reluctant, Slade obeyed happily. He sped out and down the steps, over to where Lane crouched before Elsie. She had made a nest for herself in a break in the hedge, having dragged a blanket over, her doll, and even a cup of water. She must have been hiding here a good while.
His breath caught. “Elsie.” He crouched beside Lane and cleared his face. As Marietta had taught him, he touched the child on her shoulder to get her attention and then made the sign for her name.
She grinned up at him and waved, signing his name back.
She was so young…but he had to try, didn’t he? Scrounging in his mind for the few signs he had learned, he pointed to her, his eyes, and then made the sign for Marietta.
Lane hummed. “Good thought. She could have seen them.”
Elsie hooked a finger in her mouth as she nodded. She repeated the sign for Marietta, swept her hand around her face. Marietta is beautiful.
His smile felt a little more genuine as he signed yes. He looked to Lane. “Do you know how to ask if she saw her leave?”
“I do.” He made a few quick motions, but Slade kept his eyes on the tot. Did she understand?
He wasn’t sure at first. Then she nodded and formed the letter D with her hand, moving it in the word bad. “That’s their sign for Hughes.”