Page 14 of A Zephyr Rising
Ginger’s eyes darted toward Charlie.She left him on the seat they’d occupied, scooting across to join Henry.“What is it?”
Henry’s eyes remained focused outside the car.He leaned back, unblinking.“I’m certain I saw someone by the gate.”He lowered his voice.“I shouldn’t have brought you.Father will have my head if I put you in harm’s way.I’ll have Bosworth leave me and then take you directly back to Penmore.I sense trouble.Foolish of me not to have brought a pistol.”
A pistol?
Horror cut her from belly to sternum.
What was it Henry thought he had seen?She didn’t want to cause Charlie any more alarm than necessary, but Henry’s plan seemed absurd.“For God’s sake, I won’t ride merrily back home while you may be in danger.If it makes things better, I’ll stay in the car with Charlie while you speak to Mrs.Martin.”
Bosworth slowed the car and pulled it to a stop.He stepped out and opened the door for Henry.“Stay here.”Henry pointed a finger at the inside of the car.
Ginger fidgeted in her seat as Henry’s figure disappeared around the corner.She’d made a mess of things.She gave the little boy a tight smile, but he was busy staring outside.
A loud crack, like a gunshot, startled them both.Charlie jumped up and then pushed open the car door.He scrambled in the direction Henry had gone.
Stumbling against the door, Ginger bumped her way out of the back seat.Her feet hit the pavement.She steadied herself against the frame of the car.
“No, my lady!”Bosworth bolted from his seat.
“I’ll be fine, Bosworth.Stay with the car.”Ginger ran, trying to keep Charlie in her sight.With the boy being faster and small, he was already far ahead of her.And it was dark.Within a few moments, he disappeared around the corner.
She reached the back gate to the Martins’ property out of breath.She felt for the latch on the gate, the fabric of her glove catching on a thorn from a rosebush.The thorn pricked her finger.The wound throbbed, and she yanked her hand back.Pinching her fingertip in the fist of her other hand, she pushed the gate open with her hip.
The goat.She shuddered.
She hastened down the path toward the back door where she’d called on Mrs.Martin the day before.Her knock provoked whispered voices, then the door opened a crack.Henry peeked out.He threw the door open more widely.“What in the bloody hell are you doing here?”
His language and fury rendered her speechless.
Henry yanked her in and slammed the door closed behind her.His hands curled into fists.“I told you to stay in the car.”
Ginger struggled to find her voice.She couldn’t remember many times Henry had ever been this angry with her.“I followed Charlie.We heard something and then he tore out of the car.”
Mrs.Martin, who had been standing a few steps behind Henry, rushed forward.“Charlie isn’t with you?”
Several children sat on a small, ragged sofa.Charlie wasn’t among them.Ginger took two steps further into the house, her diaphragm dropping low as dread crept into her stomach.“He’s not here?”The room, stuffy and hot, seemed to suffocate.
Mrs.Martin’s face paled.“Charlie!”She turned toward the narrow staircase leading upstairs.“Charlie!”Her voice sounded panicked.She wrung her apron in her hands before rushing up the stairs.
If Charlie wasn’t here, where had he gone?He knew this area better than she did.Maybe he had a secret hiding place or a safer way into the house.
A knot formed in the pit of her stomach.Unless someone had stopped him.Wouldn’t she have noticed?
Henry lifted his hat, wiping sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.“Tell Mrs.Martin to pack her most valuable things and bring them with her.Then help her and the children back to the car.I’m going out to look for Charlie.Don’t wait for me.Take them to Penmore without me.I’ll find my way back once I find Charlie.”
Henry slipped out the door.Without Henry or Mrs.Martin to talk to, Ginger turned her attention to the other Martin children.Five faces stared at her—four girls and one baby boy, no older than a year.They were small, but would they all even fit in the car?The oldest girl, about Lucy’s age, held the baby in her arms, her golden hair in tidy braids on either side of her face.
“Can you pack a bag for your siblings?”Ginger met her light blue eyes.The girl appeared fearful, but calm.
“Me what, miss?”
“I mean for yourself and all the other children.”
She nodded and held the baby out toward one of her sisters, who appeared to be a few years younger than her.
“It may be faster if you both do it.I can hold the baby if you’d like.”Ginger came closer to them.
The two girls exchanged a look and then examined Ginger’s dress.Ginger shifted, feeling more unsuitably dressed than before.The money she’d spent on this dress was probably more than the Martins used to clothe all their children.
