in his plans, he needed all of his wits about him. He composed himself as Dale walked away, then approached the shadowy entrance to the makeshift prison. He passed the coin and the round loaf of bread from beneath his cloak to the guard, as he’d done daily.
“Remember . . . no word as to who brings food for Samuel Yoder,” he instructed, as he hoped for the hundredth time that no word of his doings would ever reach Lena’s father’s ears. For some reason Samuel Yoder did not especially favor Adam, and he wouldn’t appreciate his daily bread coming from someone he did not like. Adam had gone over the situation a thousand times in his mind, wondering why Samuel was against him but still allowed his presence in the Yoder home. Yet Adam was used to strange behavior from the men in his life and decided that he must simply be an annoying person in some way. But how much more would Samuel dislike him when he kept his promise to Mary . . . ?
In truth, he wouldn’t care much for himself at that point. He thrust the thought aside.
The guard grunted, interrupting Adam’s grim thoughts. “Heard yer prisoner’s got a pretty piece of a daughter. Rather it be her than you what comes to feed ’im.”
Adam’s eyes darkened, but then he smiled. “I’d have to agree. But perhaps this will interest you more at the moment.” He reached beneath his cloak again and produced a leather bag, tossing its weight briefly in the air. There was no mistaking the clink of the coins within.
The guard cast him a wary but attentive eye. “ ’Ere now . . . what’s this?”
Adam smiled. “Much. And more if you’d like. Let us say that I have discovered the need for Samuel Yoder to be somewhere else.”
The guard blinked and leaned closer. “Hades, ye mean?”
“No, my treacherous friend. Not dead—gone. Escaped, if you prefer.”
The guard snorted and stepped back. “And me court-martialed in the exchange, no doubt. Get on with ye. I don’t care how much money ye’ve got, you bloody coward.”
Adam sighed. He should have known better than to expect that the dolt of a guard would fall in line with his plans.
“Fine. But there is one thing that I’m guessing you do not have and might well value, even on the off chance that you were found responsible for the escape.”
The guard scratched his pockmarked cheek with the tip of his musket, then spat on the ground. “What might that be?”
Adam leaned forward and whispered, “My horse.”
He saw the light in the other man’s eyes and knew he’d won, even at the cost of Tim’s company and the berating he’d probably get from his father.
The guard cast a quick look around. “How’d you arrange it, then?”
Adam considered as he spoke, his hesitation only heightening the tension. “I‘ll have a brief conversation now with Samuel Yoder.”
“I thought ye wanted to keep things all secret like?”
“Not to tell him about the food. Just about our little plan . . . and to unlock his cell. Then I’ll create a diversion in the street that you—a loyal, upstanding citizen—must see to for a moment, as it’s happening right in front of your post.”
“Huh?”
“Just give me the key and five minutes with the man. Take the horse.
His name’s Tim. Go easy on the bit, though, or he’ll take you flying.”
The guard squinted in thought. “I’ll go in with ye and slip open the door; ye ain’t keepin’ the key.”
“Good man.” Adam nodded. He should have thought of that himself.
“I will never have a child.” The vow escaped from Lena’s lips before she could think to stop.
Ellen Wyse glanced across the deathbed. “It’s normal to feel that way, I should imagine.”
Lena stared at her for a moment as they bundled together the last of the bloody sheets. Normal? What could possibly be normal about this moment? The shrouding of her mother’s body, veiling one world from the next . . . the stark stillness and the reality of death striking against her