Heart Appearances (Truly Yours Digital Editions Book 560) (21 page)

Joel looked uncertainly between the two men for an excruciating moment, then nodded and picked up the gun from the carpet, handing it to Brent. Brent pocketed the pipe and held the gun.

“Now, put your hands in the air and slowly turn around,” Brent said.

Eric did so, his eyes widening. “Bill? What are you doing here?”

Brent looked confused for a moment, then said, “If the man to whom you’re referring is Bill Thomas, he’s my brother.”

Eric looked taken aback. “Except for your clothing, you could be twins.”

“So I’ve been told.” Brent glanced at Darcy. “Please, Miss Evans, retrieve some rope to tie up our guest.”

Eric’s gaze grew calculating. “Actually, I remember Bill talking quite a bit about you. Brent is your name. He mentioned you were the timid sort. Afraid of your own shadow, he said. Certainly not the type to use a gun on anyone.”

Darcy wrinkled her brow. This wasn’t going well.

“Get the rope,” Brent ordered again, his voice wavering.

Before Darcy could move to comply, Eric lunged at Brent, and both men fell to the ground. Darcy stared in horror as Eric pulled back his fist and hit Brent in the jaw twice, then reached for the gun. Brent held his own, throwing a few surprisingly well-placed punches. Eric’s weakness worked against him, and soon Brent had the upper hand as both men fought for possession of the gun.

A deafening shot cracked the air.

Both men fell slack.

Darcy screamed.

Fourteen

Surprise covered Eric’s face as he put a hand to his side. A spot of crimson quickly spread across his shirt. “I’ve been shot.”

Brent stared at the gun in his hand. He looked at the two women, his eyes disbelieving. “I didn’t mean to shoot. The gun went off without me realizing it—”

“Mercy! What’s going on in this place now?” Irma cried as she rounded the corner in her nightcap and robe. She gasped when she saw Eric lying prone on the floor.

“Irma, ring for the police,” Darcy said, taking charge. “And get some hot water and bandages.”

Irma hustled off; and Darcy stared down at Eric, tilting her head and crossing her arms. “Though we should just dump you outside in the sleet or maybe put you in the barn with the other animals, my Christian training won’t allow that.” She turned to Charleigh, who still looked pale. “Where should we put him?”

“Here,” Charleigh said, rising from the sofa and protectively clutching her middle.

Irma hustled back in. “The phone’s not working. I’ll get the bandages and water.”

With Darcy’s help, Brent lifted Eric onto the couch. The wounded man moaned, closing his eyes. Alice and Lila soon joined them, demanding to know what the ruckus was about. Several boys plodded downstairs in their nightshirts and bare feet.

“What’s going on?” Lance asked, curiously peering around the corner into the parlor.

“Nothing that concerns you.” Lila moved to block their vision and shooed them away. “Back to bed, all of you.”

Darcy turned to the spot where she’d last seen Brent, but he was gone.

❧

Brent stroked his throbbing jaw and stared out the kitchen window at the sleet, which had turned to snow a few minutes ago. Though the hour was late, the household was awake. All were too nervous to retire to their quarters with a murderer under their roof, even if the man was seriously injured. Brent’s thoughts went to Bill, and he shook his head. Obviously Eric knew his brother well.

“Brent?” Darcy’s low voice came from behind him.

He tensed but didn’t look at her. She touched his sleeve and came around to stand in front of him. “Thank you for saving our lives,” she said. “You’re a hero.”

Brent shook his head. “I almost killed a man.”

“Before he had a chance to kill us,” she shot back softly. Her fingertips stroked his cheek, and he flinched. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” he lied, enjoying her touch too much.

She smiled. “Aren’t you the one who’s taught me and the boys to always speak the truth?”

“You’re right,” he amended. “I apologize.”

“I can chip off some ice from the block in the icebox. That should take the swelling down.”

Swelling? That would explain why the lower part of his face felt as if it were on fire.

“You look like a squirrel hoarding nuts in its cheeks,” she added. “Your lip is bleeding too.”

Brent felt for his handkerchief. Realizing he didn’t have it, he gingerly wiped the corner of his mouth with his knuckles.

Darcy fetched a dishcloth and wet it with water from the pump. “Joel confessed that at the carnival Eric promised he would help the boy find his father if Joel would join up with him. But when Joel heard Eric and Charleigh talk tonight, he decided Eric was bad news.” She returned to Brent and dabbed gently at his lip with the wet cloth. “He could’ve gone with Eric and left us all to whatever fate Eric had planned. Perhaps this is the heart change we’ve been looking for in Joel.”

“Perhaps.” Brent was mesmerized by her liquid dark eyes, as deep and mysterious as an indigo sky.

“Charleigh won’t sleep. She’s edgy and upset. She won’t confide in me, and I don’t know what to say to her. But it can’t be a good thing for the baby, her staying up all night and pacing the floor like she’s doing.” Her gaze lifted to his. “Alice said Eric was only nicked, though with all the blood he lost I’m amazed. She mentioned his illness might be what’s made his blood thinner—though of course she’s no doctor. Still, I think she stitched him up well.”

“I have faith in her abilities,” Brent said quietly.

Darcy pulled the cloth from his mouth but didn’t move away. “Irma said the roads are probably icy. We might not get help for some time.”

“I’ll stay in the main house until help arrives.”

“That would be nice.”

He fidgeted, nervous, yet unable to look away from her. “I’m relieved that you survived the ordeal.”

She smiled. “I feel the same about you.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, I must check on our prisoner.”

Releasing a frustrated breath, Darcy grasped his coat lapels before he could leave. “Can’t you forget about etiquette for once? I almost lost you in there—you could have been killed. I could have been killed! If it’s wrong for me to break society’s courtin’ rules and express me feelings, then so be it, but express me feelin’s I will!”

She wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug and kissed him gently. At first Brent tensed, not so much from shock but from pain. Even her soft lips caused him agony. She pulled away with a sad sigh.

“You know, Guv’ner, you could easily discourage a girl. If I didn’t suspect you liked me too, I’d give up. I just might at that. One too many rejections, and a girl soon gets the message.” Shaking her head in disappointment, she gave him one last look before leaving the kitchen.

Brent made an effort to gather his wits about him. He would analyze her words another time. Right now, there was something he must know.

Determined, he headed for the parlor and stared at the wounded man on the sofa. A lantern burned on the table beside Eric. He opened his eyes and stared up at Brent, his expression wary.

Brent came straight to the point. “How do you know my brother?”

Eric paused a long moment. “He was with a gang I joined up with in Manhattan,” he said at last. “He warned me that my life was in danger and put his own life on the line to do it. He was like that, always trying to prevent someone from getting hurt.”

Brent stared, taken aback. Bill had saved this man? Is that what had put Bill’s life in jeopardy? Perhaps Brent had judged his brother too harshly. He didn’t understand what made Bill do the things he did, but Brent was relieved to hear that his brother wasn’t as black as he’d painted him, even if the life he saved was that of a criminal’s.

“Thank you for telling me.” Brent moved away.

“Bill was wrong about you,” Eric said, his raspy voice filled with grudging respect. “You’re no coward. In fact, you’re alike in many ways.”

Brent smiled, though it made his jaw ache. Any credit for courage he owed to God.

❧

The phone lines were still down the following day, with more snow falling. Darcy looked toward Eric, who lay on the sofa and stared up at the ceiling, his expression sullen. He’d barely spoken a word all afternoon, though he’d eaten the stew Irma brought him.

Darcy stretched in the rocker and set down her book. It was agreed that every adult take a watch over the prisoner, and Darcy’s vigil was almost over. Any moment now Brent would walk in for the night shift. Since Darcy’s kiss in the kitchen last night, he’d become more distant; and Darcy resolutely made up her mind that she would leave him be from now on. If he wanted a relationship, he would have to be the one to make the first move.

Footsteps sounded in the hall. Expecting to see Brent, Darcy was surprised when Charleigh rounded the corner.

“Charleigh? Shouldn’t you be in bed?” she asked.

“There’s something I must do,” Charleigh said, determined. She glanced toward Eric. At her entrance he had peered her way, then quickly looked back to the ceiling. Charleigh waddled toward him, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

“Eric, I have something to say to you.” When he didn’t respond, she stepped closer. “Look at me!”

At her demanding words, his gaze narrowed on her.

“You made my life miserable and taught me the meaning of true fear. And though I’ve every reason to despise you for all you’ve done—” She took a deep breath. “I choose to forgive you. I know it’s what God wants, because He’s been dealing with me ever since you got here. He forgave all my sins, and I can do no less when it comes to you.”

His expression remained unchanged, but he didn’t look away.

“I don’t expect you to understand.” She hesitated. “Anyway, that’s all I have to say.” She turned to go.

“Charleigh, wait,” he whispered, wincing and clutching his side. “You’ve gained courage since we were together. How did this come about?”

“If I have courage, it’s because of God. I know He’ll stand up for me, so I’m not afraid to speak. Nor am I afraid of you anymore.”

He studied her in silence, then turned his sober gaze to the ceiling again. Charleigh left the room.

When Brent came to relieve Darcy, she gave him a polite smile—no more—and went to her room to lie down. Yet she couldn’t rest. Charleigh’s act of forgiveness stirred something deep within her, bringing to the surface something she knew the Lord was telling her to do.

“Oh, Lord, no. Please. Not him.” She sat at her bureau, her gaze lifted to the mirror. In her dark, beseeching eyes, she recognized the truth.

❧

The next morning the phone was working, and Irma called the police. Michael arrived at the same time they did. “What’s going on?” he asked as he walked through the door behind one of the officers. “Did one of the boys get into trouble? The weather kept me stranded at home or I would have come sooner.”

Alice grabbed his arm with an affectionate squeeze, pulling him past the parlor entrance. “Everything’s fine now. I’ll tell you all about it over a cup of coffee. I’m just so glad to have you with me again.” She moved with him in the direction of the kitchen. Obviously she was concerned about Michael’s reaction when he learned of Eric’s presence, considering what the Frenchman had once done to Charleigh.

Frowning, Brent watched as Darcy swept past without looking at him. She’d been avoiding him since yesterday. Clutching something tightly in her hand, she walked toward the sofa. Two policemen helped Eric to stand, one on each side of him. Though he was still weak and shaky, handcuffs circled his wrists in front. Darcy stopped close to Eric.

When she said nothing, he raised a mocking eyebrow. “Well?”

“Right,” she said and stuffed a few crumpled bills into his hand. “For you to buy an overcoat. You’re in desperate need of one.”

The bills fluttered to the carpet. Darcy picked them up and tucked them back between his fingers.

“You’re giving me money to buy a coat?” he asked incredulously.

“That’s right. Three dollars. It should be enough. If there’s any left over, you can buy a pair of gloves too.”

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

“Because you need a coat. You’re ill. And, well, I felt the Lord tell me to give you the money.”

Disbelief filled Eric’s eyes as he stared down at the three crumpled bills. “I could have robbed you,” he said quietly. “I held a gun to your head and might have killed you. And you’re giving me money to buy a coat?”

Darcy smiled brightly. “Life sure is strange, isn’t it? But then Christians are often called a peculiar people.” She sobered. “I once promised God I would do all I could for the needy, having come from just such a situation. I even wrote a poem about it—that’s where the money came from. I won it because of me poem. And last night the Lord reminded me of my vow and told me to give you the money.”

Several seconds of quiet elapsed.

“No one’s ever given me anything,” Eric murmured as he stared at the bills in his clasped hands. Moisture glistened in his eyes when he looked up. “Not even my father, except for the nightly beatings when he’d had too much wine. My mother left him when I was too small to remember. I had to fight, tooth and nail, for everything I had. . . .” He looked away, embarrassed for disclosing a part of his past. Glancing at Darcy once more, he offered a swift nod. The policemen on either side grabbed his upper arms and escorted him to the door.