Hope Springs (41 page)

She stood a moment, too afraid to even move. Fire continued to spread. The entire wall would be aflame in a matter of minutes. Everything in that barn would burn.

Sweet heavens. Ivy.

Katie rushed to the ladder and climbed toward the loft.

“Miss Macauley!” Finbarr called. “You have to get out!”

She reached the loft, eyes scanning the darkness. “Ivy? Are you up here? Ivy?”

No response. The candle she’d seen flickering before seemed to have been blown out. Perhaps Ivy had extinguished it when she heard Mr. Archibald come in.

“Ivy, I saw your candle, dear. Please, you have to get out. You have to come with me
now.
”

The air tasted of smoke. Katie swallowed down a sob.

“Ivy, please.”

Over the sound of crackling wood and Finbarr shouting for the animals to leave, Katie heard a tiny voice. “Katie?”

“Sweetheart?”

Where had Ivy been the last time Katie had found her hiding in the loft?
The near corner.

Katie moved quickly in that direction. It was too dark to see anything. She dropped onto her hands and knees, searching with her hands. “Ivy? Please don’t hide from me.”

The smoke grew thicker with each passing moment. Katie’s lungs fought to pull in a breath of clean air. Her mind screamed for her to run away as far and as fast as she could. The barn was on fire.
Fire.

“Katie, I’m scared.” Ivy’s voice shook.

“Where are you, sweet one? Keep talking so I can find you.”

“The people were mad.” Ivy coughed. “And it smells smoky.”

Her eyes were adjusting. She could make out a tiny silhouette in the corner.

“Come along, Ivy.” She moved quickly toward her. “Come with me. We need to go.”

“I’m scared. I’m scared.” Ivy coughed in the smoky air.

Katie took hold of Ivy’s arm. “We have to go quickly.” The taste of ash filled her mouth.

“I can’t see you, Katie.” That was Emma. She was up there as well?
Merciful heavens!

Panic like she’d never known surged through every inch of her. She felt about frantically until she found Emma’s arm. “We have to get out now, girls. We have to.”

She kept a hand on both of their arms as she struggled to her feet. The girls were coughing harder. They fought her efforts to pull them toward the ladder, but she didn’t let go. She would not leave them.

“It’s smoky, Katie.”

“There’s a fire down below, girls. We have to get out.”

“But, Katie—”

She tugged on their arms again. “We have to go, Emma. We have to.”

“But we can’t leave Marianne.”

She froze.
Marianne? Marianne Johnson?
“Marianne’s here as well?”

“Everyone was shouting.”

“Marianne!” She coughed. The air had grown thick and hot. “Was she sitting with you? Have you any other friends up here?”

“It’s just us, Katie.”

“Marianne! Answer me, child. We have to get out. Marianne!”

The back wall was full on fire, flames leaping toward the ceiling. The hay in the loft would catch any second. She had to get Emma and Ivy out, but she couldn’t leave Marianne behind.

What do I do? What do I do?
’Twas little Eimear again, a poor child’s life in danger, and she was the only one there to help.

“Marianne!”

Ivy and Emma were coughing near constantly. But Katie heard another cough. If she could just follow it—

She heard Finbarr’s voice instead. “Miss Katie, you have to get out. The whole place’ll come down on your head.”

“Help me, Finbarr. Emma and Ivy are up here.”

“Saints above.” He scrambled up the ladder.

“Marianne Johnson is over here as well, but I can’t find her.”

“Marianne!” Finbarr ran across the loft. He coughed hard. “Marianne!”

Suddenly the crackling grew to an almighty roar. The hay had caught.

Her pulse pounded hard in her head. They likely had mere minutes.

“Katie.” Ivy whimpered at her side.

Emma had grown silent.

“Take the girls, Finbarr. Get them as far from here as you can. I will find Marianne—”

“No, you go. I’ll look.”

“Finbarr—”

“Go, quickly.”

Steam rose off the hem of Katie’s dress, the heat of the fire pulling the last of the river water from her clothes.

“Don’t leave me here,” a frightened little voice pleaded in the darkness.

“Marianne?”

“Don’t leave me. Please.”

“We won’t leave you,” Katie called out. “I promise.”

Finbarr was a step ahead of her, moving toward Marianne’s voice.

“Come with me, Marianne,” he said. “We have to run.”

“Finbarr.” Katie’s eyes stung painfully. Each breath burned. “There’s no time.”

He grabbed Marianne, holding her fast as they all rushed toward the ladder.

Katie swatted at the girls’ dresses as cinders set the hems smoldering.

“The ladder’s on fire, Katie.” Ivy clung close to her.

“No, dear.”
Not yet.
“Down. Quickly.”

Both girls pulled away, afraid. Katie looked down at the flames and smoke below. She couldn’t let herself be paralyzed by it.
Hold yourself together until the girls are safe.
She’d done it before. She could do it again.

“Come down with me,” she said. “We’ll go together.”

She took the first step over the edge, her foot finding the rung, then the next. “Come on.”

Ivy stepped over. They took one rung at a time. Emma hesitated, looking back over the loft.

“Finbarr!” Katie called out.

He appeared in the next moment, Marianne still clutched tight to him.

It was enough for Emma. She climbed down the ladder too. Katie stepped onto the ground below and reached for Ivy.

“Katie.” She was crying, shaking.

“Run, Ivy. Run straight from the barn and don’t stop until you reach the house.”

She could hear voices shouting outside. The people in the house had discovered the fire.

“Your father’ll be out there, dearest. You run to him, now. Run!”

Ivy took off like a bolt. Emma hadn’t come all the way down the ladder yet. She’d stopped halfway. Finbarr stopped above her, Marianne clinging to his neck.

“Come on, Emma,” Katie encouraged.

“I’m scared, Katie. It’s all on fire. Everywhere.”

“I’m scared too, sweet girl. But we cannot stop now.” She held her hands up, but Emma wasn’t near enough to reach. “Hurry, please, darling.”

Her legs were suddenly hot. She glanced back.
Heavens, I’m on fire!
She swatted at her skirts, slapping out the flames.

“Emma! Now!” That startled her into action. A moment later, she was within reach. Katie grabbed her and set her on the ground.

A loud, ominous creak sounded above the rushing flames. They had to run. The whole place was coming down.

“Run, Emma!”

Through dropping hay and ashes and cinders, they ran. The barn groaned. Katie looked up. The entire roof was engulfed in flame. ’Twas that night all over again. The roof above her coming down. Running for her very life.

The entire barn seemed to shift around her. Emma was very near the doors, but not quite out yet. Katie ran faster than she ever had. The walls gave way. Emma looked up and screamed. The terror cut at Katie’s heart.

She lunged forward, pushing Emma through the barn doors and out into the night. Katie spun back around, frantically reaching for Finbarr and Marianne. They were just out of reach. Something heavy and hot knocked her down. An almighty crash filled her ears, then silence.

She couldn’t get up. She couldn’t breathe. Somewhere in the background she heard voices shouting. Pain pulsed through her in waves. She tried to pull in air, but there didn’t seem to be any.

She closed her eyes and tried to endure the pain. She hurt so much. So deeply. Her thoughts began to muddle.

The sound of Father playing his fiddle came to her from across the years. “Ar Éirinn” filled her mind. ’Twas the tune he’d played the night of the fire, and the one that always made him feel close again.

“I’m scared, Father,” she silently told him. “I’m here, dying, alone.” Just as he was. He was dying, and she wasn’t there with him. She was dying, she knew she was, and he wasn’t there with her.

Each breath grew harder, more painful. No thoughts came after that. Only pain. So much pain.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Joseph sat on a chair beside his bed, listening to the clock tick and the sound of Katie struggling to breathe. His precious girls slept on the floor, wrapped in blankets. They’d refused to leave despite his insistence. He’d not said anything about it, but they seemed to sense that Katie’s life was hanging in the balance.

He held her broken hand between both of his, the pain in his heart only growing. She needed a doctor, but the closest one was a two-day drive away and the roads leading to the depot wouldn’t be passable until winter was over.

He gently kissed the tips of her fingers, the only part of her hand he hadn’t wrapped in bandages. So many bones were broken, but he didn’t know how to set them or how to piece the rest of her back together.

The sound of her struggling for air had been his constant companion for hours. She likely had broken ribs and lungs full of smoke and ash. The girls coughed a lot as well, though they’d not been crushed by the falling barn as Katie had. They were already sounding better. Katie only looked worse.

“I don’t know how to make her well again.” He didn’t know if it was a prayer or if he was simply so out of his mind with fear that he was talking to himself. “I can’t breathe for her. I can’t give her my hand.”

Her hand.
If she lived through this, her hand would still be as broken and disfigured as her feet. More so, in many ways. How much tragedy would life require her to endure?

“How is she, Joseph?” Reverend Ford asked from the doorway.

“She needs a doctor,” Joseph said.

“I’m afraid I don’t have one of those.” His footsteps drew closer.

“Then she’ll need a miracle—or are you fresh out of those as well?”

Reverend Ford stood at the foot of the bed, watching Katie with a somber expression. Did the preacher see death hovering in her features as clearly as Joseph did?

Mrs. Smith came inside, carrying a steaming teapot. They had established a familiar pattern over the night’s watch: Mrs. Smith would make a concoction of herbs and water, then bring the teapot up to fill the air with soothing steam. It did seem to help, if only a little. His opinion of his housekeeper was not generally high, but he was grateful for her that night.

“The young lady’s coloring seems a little better, Mr. Archer.” He knew enough of Mrs. Smith’s bluntness to know she meant what she said.

He didn’t see any change, but took some comfort in the possibility that Katie’s condition had improved at all.

“Now you men step outside the room. I’ve a poultice to replace.”

Joseph kissed Katie’s fingers one more time before laying her bandaged hand on the bed beside her. He didn’t know exactly what Mrs. Smith’s poultice contained, but if there was any chance it would help, he would happily be thrown from his room again and again for days on end.

He waited for Reverend Ford to step out before closing the door behind them both. He leaned against the wall, letting it hold his weight. The strength to stand on his own had disappeared in the dark of early morning, many hours ago.

Joseph rubbed his face, fighting angry, exhausted, desperate tears. He had to hold himself together. His girls would be awake soon. They would need him. And Katie had no one to care for her but him. The Irish were still trapped across the river.

“I would be happy to sit up with Miss Macauley. You need to sleep.”

“I can’t.”

“Your housekeeper and I can tend to—”

“It isn’t that. I
can’t
sleep. I have tried, and I can’t.” He tipped his head back, taking in a deep breath. “It is there in my mind. Every time I close my eyes, I see it again. I hear it. The sound of the barn giving way. The sight of Emma not quite outside and me knowing I couldn’t possibly get to her in time.”

That moment would likely haunt him for the rest of his life.

“Then, suddenly, Katie was there, pushing Emma clear.”

“Miss Macauley was your miracle tonight, Joseph. No one even knows how she got across the river.”

Or how she knew the girls were in the barn.

“For just that moment, I was so relieved.” His heart dropped at the memory. “Then I watched as the walls fell and she was trapped. And I thought, as we were digging her out, that if we could just get her clear, everything would be fine. But when we found her, she was so broken. She was hardly breathing. I thought—for a few terrible seconds, I was certain she was dead.”

His entire world had ended in that moment.

He could only just push the smallest of breaths past the lump in his throat. He paced away. His mind had struggled all night to comprehend the enormity of what had happened.

“You said people would die if this feud was left unchecked.” Reverend Ford’s voice was soft and heavy. “I confess I dismissed your words as irrational and angry. I should have done more.”