Mr. Barlow signaled the derrick operator again, despite the fact that Lilly was standing on top of the bull. The winch powered up, the operator pulled the handle, and the cable tightened. Lilly lost her balance and fell to her knees. She nearly slipped off Pepper’s back, but held on to the chain around her neck. Women gasped and pulled their children into their skirts while men craned their necks to get a better look. Cole ran over to the derrick car, scrambled up the side, grabbed the operator by the shirt, and hauled him out of the cab. Then he climbed into the driver’s seat, pushed the handle forward, and the cable went loose. Lilly stood and struggled to undo the chain again. Viktor climbed up the derrick car, seized Cole by the collar, and punched him hard in the face. Cole listed to one side, seemingly out cold, then straightened and rammed a fist into Viktor’s steam-shovel jaw. Unfazed, Viktor punched Cole again, harder this time, then dragged him out of the operator’s seat and took his place. Four roustabouts latched on to Cole’s legs, yanked him down from the car, and held him to the ground. Cole thrashed and cussed, frantically fighting to get away. One of Mr. Barlow’s strongmen kicked him in the head and he went limp, his face turned to one side.
In the derrick operator’s seat, Viktor pushed the levers and moved the handle, and the crane swung to the left, jerking Pepper in the same direction. Lilly tumbled sideways and straddled Pepper’s neck, hanging on for dear life. When the crane slowly swung back again, she scrambled to her feet, reached for the steel ring, and tried to pull down on the chain at the same time. Viktor jostled the handle forward and to the right, and the crane lowered and swung to the other side. The cable loosened and Lilly yanked down on the steel ring and struggled to undo the chain. A whooshing noise sounded above her head and she looked up. The boom of the crane dropped down and over, then switched direction and headed straight at her. Before she could react, it slammed into her stomach, cracked her ribcage, and knocked her off Pepper’s back. In what seemed like slow motion, she flew through the air, her lungs empty and useless, her arms and hair out like the limbs of a falling doll.
She struck a railroad switch several yards away, the metal sign smashing into her lower spine, the sound of splintering bones exploding in her brain. She screamed and hit the ground with a thud, her body rigid with agony. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard the crowd gasp. The world swam in and out of focus, blurred behind a bloody film of tears. She closed her eyes, panting and trying to hold on to consciousness. Her torso burned as if someone had set her on fire.
After what seemed like forever, the dizziness passed and she opened her eyes. On her side in the dirt, she was facing the circus train, and her legs and arms felt bent at odd angles. Several railroad officials and the sheriff rushed toward her. Behind them, Mr. Barlow’s strongmen dragged Cole away.
She gritted her teeth and tried to sit up. Her arms worked, but she couldn’t push herself off the ground. The pain in her middle was like nothing she had ever felt before, every breath like a hundred twisting blades in her spine. She tried to roll over, but no matter how hard she struggled, she couldn’t move. She looked down at her stomach. A gore-streaked bar stuck out of her lower abdomen, and blood oozed from the wound. Oddly, she felt no pain. She touched the area around the metal bar and sticky blood coated her fingers. Once that’s out, I’ll be fine, she thought.
A cluster of boots and shoes appeared and the sheriff knelt beside her, his face lined with alarm. “Don’t move,” he said. “You’re going to be okay.”
Behind her, the derrick crane powered up again. The winch squealed and the chain rattled.
“No . . .” she said, reaching for the sheriff with a bloody hand. “Don’t . . . don’t let . . . them kill Pepper.”
“Just hold on and we’ll get help,” the sheriff said. He stood and shouted, “Someone get an ambulance!”
Behind Lilly, the crane creaked, the cable whined, and the crowd laughed and clapped. Pepper bellowed several times, then let out shriek after agonized shriek. Lilly put her hands over her ears, but the sounds of Pepper struggling found its way through her trembling hands and ripped into her brain. She sobbed and gagged, her breath growing shallow and fast. Iron and steel creaked in protest against the heavy weight of Pepper’s writhing body until, little by little, the cable stopped squeaking and the crowd grew quiet. Lilly’s arms went limp and her vision started closing in, like a dark curtain drawing in around her. The world spun out of control and a feeling of utter doom swallowed her. This must be what it feels like to die, she thought. But I can’t . . . Phoebe needs me. . . . Then she felt like she was falling and the world went black.
CHAPTER 32
JULIA
After questioning Claude about the hidden bedroom and her sister, Julia trudged back to the manor, her mind reeling. She had spent her entire life feeling sorry for herself because of Mother’s coldness and Father’s distance, thinking something had to be wrong with her to make her unworthy of their love. And even though she knew deep in her heart her father’s car accident wasn’t her fault, she’d always blamed herself for that too. Sure, he was the one who chose to drink and drive, but she was the one who had skipped church to go swimming. The burden she carried was real.
Now she realized she was the lucky one. She had been able to live a relatively normal life and leave Blackwood Manor, unlike her sister who had been kept prisoner because of the way she looked. Sadly, it came as no surprise that Mother was ashamed of her firstborn. Because despite her pious ways in private, outward appearances had always mattered most to her, hence the fancy dresses and furs when she went out in public, and the happy family charade for the outside world. But locking up a child was unimaginable. It was monstrous and cruel and disgusting. And Father had been in on it. No wonder he drank. Was that why he needed God’s forgiveness, or was it something else?
When Julia got back to the house, she rolled up every shade, yanked aside every heavy drape, and opened every window. Fresh air and sunshine would never flush Blackwood Manor of its horrible secrets and lies, but airing out the house felt like something she needed to do. If only she could open windows in her head and air out her mind. Unfortunately, the image of a little girl in the attic bedroom had burned itself into her brain for all eternity. After grabbing a box of matches from a kitchen cupboard, she put on a heavy coat, boots, and gloves, and went back outside to burn the pile of fallen branches from the ice storm. Physical labor always helped her think, and she needed to figure out what to do next.
Her father always burned leaves in the fall, and she could still picture him sitting on a stump in the side yard, chain-smoking cigarettes and swigging whiskey from a silver flask. He looked like a man condemned to hell on earth, and it had filled her heart with fear to see him there, his shoulders slumped like something bad had happened. Now she knew why he looked that way. Terrible secrets, like poison, eat away at you from the inside.
At the burning spot, the mound of downed branches and sticks from the storm was as big as a car. Along with a base of old leaves from last fall, it would create quite a fire. Julia walked the perimeter of the lawn, picking up stray branches to add to the pile.