Page 16 of A Zephyr Rising
“No, my lady, I can’t leave?—”
Giving him a stern look, she leveled her chin.“Go.Henry asked me to go and find him.”
The struggle on Bosworth’s face was evident.He clearly didn’t want to leave her—fearing the wrath of her father—but he also didn’t want to contradict her or Henry’s orders.
At last, he gave a nod.As the car tore away from the village, Ginger’s hands relaxed from tight fists.She turned sharply and rushed back toward the burning house.Her ankle throbbed now.Shouts sounded on the side of the house facing the main street.By now, the fire had stirred neighbors.Some stood at their back doorsteps, gawking at the conflagration.
Ginger rushed back to the gate.She’d have to run around the block rather than go by the side of the house.A head butted the gate, giving it a shake.The goat.Poor creature was probably terrified.
Going through the gate, Ginger found a rope.She looped it around the goat’s neck and tied a knot.Pulling, she tried to help it through the gate.It didn’t budge.Thick smoke and ash filled the air.
“My lady!”a voice came from nowhere.One neighbor had rushed from his back door.He held out his hand for the rope.“I’ll take care of the goat.You shouldn’t be here!”
Glad to be rid of the animal, Ginger handed over its care.She lifted her skirts as she hastened around the block toward the main street of town.With each step, the pain in her ankle grew worse.She limped her way forward.The ringing of the fire engine bell clanged, followed by the clopping of horses’ hooves.As the wagon pulling the water pump drew closer, Ginger searched the street for any sign of Henry or Charlie.A crowd had gathered by now, watching the spectacle.
Sickness clawed at her throat.She had wanted to help the Martins, not cause the destruction of their home.
A boy approached down the street, looking over his shoulder at the fire.He turned away, then stopped short when he saw her.Archie Winser.
Their eyes met.Archie bolted.
“Wait!”Ginger called.Drat.A flash of white-hot pain shot through her as she dashed to follow him, her ankle screaming.He might know what had happened to Charlie.He’d taken off at a full sprint, down a lane.
The darkness of the lane swallowed him.Her footsteps faltered.Archie’s father had every reason to be angry with her.If he was behind the fire and the brick, she could be in danger.
Images of Mrs.Martin clutching her baby to her played through her mind.No mother should ever have to leave her house in terror like that.Especially when Mrs.Martin had done nothing wrong.
She had to help Henry find Charlie.Archie Winser might be the best way to do that.
Her heels struck the pavement with loud clacks as she pushed herself forward.Her safety wasn’t important compared to Charlie’s.He was just a boy.
The lane emptied into a dirt road, and past it was a public house.She didn’t see Archie anywhere.The area around the left side of the public house had shabby stalls for horses.Had he hidden there?Ginger drew closer, then froze as the stalls came into view.Three rough-looking men had gathered in there.They hovered over a recumbent form on the straw-covered floor of the stall.Muffled crying greeting her ears.
Charlie.
She rushed into their midst.The boy lay bruised and battered, blood soaking his pants.The man closest to Charlie held a piece of lead pipe in his hands.They turned toward Ginger with menacing looks.
“It’d be best if you go,” the man with the lead piping said, his voice cold.
“What have you done?”Ginger pushed her way toward Charlie, but another man grabbed her arm.“Let me go.”She yanked herself free, trying to get to him, then slapped the man restraining her.
He shoved her away.She fell on the straw with a cry, her backside hitting the ground hard.The fall had done no favors to the ache in her ankle, either.She gawked at them.In the dark, she couldn’t recognize them or distinguish their features well.They had to know who she was from the manner of her dress, though—didn’t they?
Then again, announcing her name might not help her right now if they didn’t.Not if she’d caused this.
Charlie moaned beside her, his little hand trembling as he reached for her.The man with the club lifted it, as though to knock his hand away.
Her heart slammed against her rib cage.“No!”She threw herself over the boy.“Stay away from this child.”The smell of horse manure was cloying.
“Stop!”Henry’s familiar voice boomed through the space.Relief pulsed through her at the sight of him.His white tie garments were in stark contrast to the setting, but they gave him an air of authority.At the sight of Henry, the man’s companions backed away, fear on their faces.They turned and ran away.
The man with the lead pipe whirled toward Henry.“You might be a spy, too, Whitman.Ye’re willin’ to betray England to the bloody Huns.”Rather than backing away, he charged toward Henry, knocking him off his feet.The two men tumbled to the ground.A scuffle of groans and sickening punches between them followed.Ginger shielded Charlie for a moment longer, scanning the perimeter for some tool to help Henry.
Spotting a rake, she dove toward it.Ginger stumbled to her feet, straw sticking to her skirt.Her hands wrapped around the handle of the rake.She turned it flat side out.Whirling it toward the attacker, she struck his back.
The man grunted and fell forward.The distraction was enough for Henry to scramble away, heaving with deep breaths.
Moments later, the attacker was on his feet again, running away.
