Running full out Lorrie came to the place where her brother’s shoe had fallen. She reached for it and fell to her knees, gasping as she was overcome with sobs and desperation. Finally, still weeping, she forced herself up and staggered down the road in the direction the kidnappers had gone. After a few steps she stopped.
I need a horse, she thought. The only one they had was Horace, their old plough horse. He was no champing stallion, but he was better than shanks’s pony. The kidnappers couldn’t keep galloping, they’d have to slow down sometime.
‘Slow and steady gets the job done,’ her father always said. ‘And a man can walk further than he can run.’
Her breath caught in her throat as sharp as a fish bone when she remembered that she’d never hear him say such a thing again; the pain was physical, like needles stabbing into eyes and heart.
Turning toward home she saw flames flash through the smoke churning over the hilltop. Everything was burning. Lorrie thought of her mother and father lying in their blood . . .
They’re dead, she forced her mind to say. Blackness threatened to rise up and overwhelm her. She wanted nothing so much as to awake from a horrible dream, or to discover this but a mad illusion from a fever. She kept looking around, expecting things to change. She knew that if she turned quickly, her father would be walking toward the house, or if she ran home fast, her mother would be standing in the kitchen doorway.
A great primal sob shook her, followed by a scream—more than a scream: a deep roar of rage, pain and defiance that caused her to clench fists and throw back her head and shriek until her throat was raw and there was no air left in her lungs.
Gasping for air, she forced herself to look clearly ahead. She had to put pain aside. Mourning would come later. Rip’s alive! she thought again, and everything in her turned cold, her outrage and pain turning from fire to ice. Rip must be saved! Hysteria and confusion would serve only to put him at more risk. Obviously those who took him wanted him alive for a reason, otherwise he would be dead with his parents.
Rip might be facing slavery or worse. And there was nothing she could do for her parents. At least not now. She looked around once more, burning the images of this moment into her young memory. She would never forget.
With silent resolve, she set off toward her home.
EIGHT - Family
Lorrie ran.
She wasn’t quite home yet when she saw Bram’s father, Ossrey, coming across the fields. His wife, Allet, was with him, and a field hand; behind them more neighbours were coming, the whole valley turning out. The men carried shovels and axes and the women carried buckets. Lorrie ran to them, throwing herself into Ossrey’s arms, weeping so hard she couldn’t speak.
Ossrey held her for a moment, stroking her hair then, keeping one arm around her shoulders, he guided her toward the house and barn.
‘Where are your ma and pa?’ he asked gently. ‘Did they send you for help?’
Shaking her head, utterly breathless from weeping, Lorrie couldn’t answer him. Just then they came in sight of the house and barn and the bodies of her mother and father.
‘Sung protect us,’ Allet whispered in horror.
‘Stay here, Lorrie,’ Ossrey said, putting her gently aside.
But Lorrie grabbed hold of his sleeve and wouldn’t let go as she struggled to get herself under control. Finally she was able to speak.
‘Men who did this . . . took my brother,’ she managed to gasp out. Pointing down the road, she said, ‘Help me get him back.’
‘First we must see if we can help your parents,’ Ossrey said calmly.
Lorrie shook her head, tears flowing down her face. ‘You can’t, you can’t,’ she said plaintively. Then once more, ‘You can’t.’
‘Oh, Lorrie,’ Ossrey said, gathering her into his arms. Over her head he and Allet exchanged glances.
‘Please,’ Lorrie said, pushing herself away from his chest, ‘help me find Rip.’
Just then a piece of the barn roof collapsed, sending up a storm of sparks, and Ossrey’s head whipped round at the roar of the fire.
‘We must take care of the fire, girl,’ he told her. ‘If it spreads to the crops, you’ll not be the only one around here to lose your fields.’
By now other neighbours had come up and were staring in horror at the scene before them.
‘What’s happened?’ someone asked in a dazed voice.
Lorrie looked from face to face and could see that they’d all be occupied with the fire in a moment and deaf to anything she said.
‘Murderers have kidnapped my baby brother,’ she said. ‘Help me get him back!’
‘Are you sure the boy is . . . wasn’t in the house, girl?’
‘No, men took him!’ Lorrie said, her voice verging on the hysterical. Exhaustion and fear were driving her to the brink of collapse.
Ossrey asked, ‘Any of you see any men riding along the road today?’
A murmur of voices answered in the negative. ‘I saw them!’ shouted Lorrie.