Chapter Twenty-Five
Ellen got Margery settled into Avery’s bed and took her blood pressure.
“You must be frantic about your kids,” Margery said, reaching out toward Ellen.
“Shh,” Ellen said. “You need to remain calm.”
She was worried, about all of them. She hadn’t heard yet from Jake about Bobby; Avery had been taken by the people who had shot Greg Baldwin; and Lyla was in the barn, working alone to prevent water from flooding the horse stalls.
Had she known about the water damage this morning, she could have taken the horses to Travis’s place, or to the Coulters’ barn.
But it was too late now. Lyla had to keep the barn as dry as possible.
In the back of her mind she thought that the barn had had so many problems over the last year and she should have been on top of it, but that realization was buried under her fear for her children.
“I don’t know how you do it.” Margery rubbed her stomach in a slow, circular motion.
Ellen blinked back sudden tears. She remembered carrying Avery for nine months and two weeks—she was late, she was nearly ten pounds, and had kicked at her sciatic nerve periodically just to keep Ellen on her toes.
Or, rather, on her back because when she hit just the right place, Ellen couldn’t move for hours without pain.
And when she arrived, she was chunky and beautiful, with a shock of red hair and John’s warm hazel-brown eyes.
None of the other kids were redheads, but Penny had been overjoyed because she had been a redhead before her hair turned snow white, long before Ellen had met her.
So they named her Avery Penelope and while Penny said she didn’t have favorites, she always did small, extra things for her namesake.
Like making a special picnic for when Ryan came over in the middle of the night.
Ellen’s eyes burned. Avery thought she didn’t know that Ryan sometimes came over after everyone went to bed and they went out to the old oak tree to talk and make out.
She’d never confronted Avery about it, because the kids were good kids.
She could see the tree from her bedroom window and seeing Avery and Ryan just sitting holding hands, looking at the stars, reminded her of the long summer nights when she and John had done the same thing.
“Rick knows,” Ellen said, clearing her throat to force back her emotions. “Avery’s smart. They’re not going to hurt her, because they need her.” Ellen had to believe that. She had to believe that Avery would find a way to escape, or that Rick would find them, save her daughter.
But the fear clawed at her heart. She’d lost her husband, how could God take her daughter, too?
“Margery, your blood pressure is too high. You need to relax. You’re safe here, your baby is safe.
Close your eyes, keep your feet elevated slightly”—she adjusted the pillow under her calves—“and don’t think about anything except the fact that you have a growing baby who needs you to be healthy and calm. Okay?”
“I’ll try.”
“I’ll be back in a bit. I’m going to call Susie and tell her we’re safe.”
Ellen went downstairs and called Susie. Penny was watching her, but not talking. When Ellen ended the call, she said, “What?” She didn’t mean to snap. She pinched her nose to force back tears and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry about?” Penny asked. “You’re worried. I’m worried. We won’t sleep until all our chicks are back in the nest.”
“I need to do something and I don’t know what to do!”
That she hadn’t heard from Jake worried her as well. Maybe he couldn’t call, but he had a radio.
Still, Jake and Bobby were together by now. Avery was alone, with strangers who had hurt the Mendozas and tied up a disabled girl and shot Greg Baldwin. If they were willing to shoot a man—and his dog—would they really restrain themselves with a teenage girl?
A sob escaped and she bit it back. Penny came over to her and gave her a fierce hug, then dropped her arms. “Go see Lyla,” she said. “She’s still in the barn. I’ll fix Margery something.”
“Where’s Mateo?”
“He’s still at the Pritchards’ place. He called when he got there, said their generator needs repairs and they are having trouble getting their cows into the barn, so he’s going to be a while.
” She shook her head. “They’re nice folks, but they don’t know much of anything about raising dairy cows or mechanics.
They think having a farm is like gardening. ”
“Abigail has a green thumb,” Ellen said with a small smile. “I’ve never been able to grow tomatoes like hers.”
She was glad Mateo was able to help them. Even though she would have preferred that he was here, helping Jake with Bobby, or Lyla with the barn, or just being here with her because she couldn’t stop thinking about where Avery was and if she was going to be safe.
“And earlier? Millie called. Said they were visiting their youngest down in Frisco. Something about an indoor soccer match or car problems, I don’t really know. But they asked Jake to care for their bulls and chickens tomorrow. With all this going on!”
“They didn’t say anything to me this morning about a trip,” Ellen said. “When Mateo calls, ask him to take care of the Coulters’ place in the morning before he comes here. Jake might not be able to get over there if the fields or roads are flooded.”
Mateo lived on the other side of Privett, on a small parcel that the McKennas had owned for generations, used primarily for grazing before the winter wheat came in. It was a straight shot to the Coulters’ place, as long as Privett was passable.
“If the rain stops by then,” Ellen said, looking out the window. It wasn’t even five and it was near dark. The rain fell without letting up, a steady, constant thrum on the roof. Was Avery out in this? Was Jake driving Bobby home?
She needed to do something. “You’re okay checking on Margery?” she asked as she put on her jacket, hood, and a fresh pair of boots, since the pair she’d worn earlier was still wet.
“I’ll feed her, sit with her, keep her calm. You check on Lyla. Make her come in and eat.”
“I will,” Ellen said and reached for the door. Whiskey jumped up from his bed in the corner of the kitchen and Ellen said, “Stay.”
He sat down and watched her with sad eyes.
The wind pushed Ellen from behind as she walked through the muddy yard to the barn. Jake had laid out plywood across the worst of the yard so they could more easily walk to and from the barn.
The lights were on inside and when Ellen stepped in through the side door, she called out, “Lyla?”
“Mom! You’re back.”
Lyla left one of the stalls and came over to her. She looked tired, her dark hair pulled back and her big green eyes bloodshot.
“Grandma said you haven’t eaten.”
“There’s water coming in from the foundation and I don’t know why.” Lyla motioned for her to follow to the side of the barn under the loft. “Jake fixed the holes up above, cut off the drainpipes, but there’s water coming in here.”
Lyla turned on a brighter work light on the wall and pointed to the floor where the wall met the cement foundation. She had sandbags all around, but pulled one aside and showed Ellen what she meant. “What can cause this?”
“I don’t know,” Ellen said as she squatted and touched the pooling water. She could practically see it spread. She pushed on the wall; it was soft and rotting. It was going to have to be replaced.
She put the sandbag back. They had the entire barn surrounded by sandbags not so much to keep it from flooding—the water wouldn’t rise higher than an inch in their immediate yard because they were on a slight rise—but because standing water could seep into the foundation, causing dry rot and structural problems.
The barn had been standing on the same foundation for generations.
It had been repaired, updated, modernized, but it was the same basic structure.
Maybe there was something seriously wrong with the foundation, or it had cracked.
But wouldn’t they have seen signs of leakage over the years? Cracks that had gotten worse over time?
“I’ll have to hire a structural engineer or contractor to take a look,” Ellen said.
“Do you think—” Lyla began, then stopped.
“Go on, what were you going to say?”
“The loft was sabotaged,” she said bluntly. “Jake said it was, that someone had cut holes in the wall, right next to the gutter so the water would get into the loft when the gutters were clogged. Maybe someone did something like that near the foundation and we haven’t found it yet.”
Ellen was still having a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that a stranger—or, worse, someone she knew—had come onto her property for the purposes of damaging her barn. But Jake wouldn’t jump to that conclusion without evidence, and it was clear that something was going on.
“I hope you’re wrong,” Ellen said, “but we can’t discount the possibility.”
“Do you think the animals are okay in here?”
“Yes. Even if someone did structurally damage the barn, it would take a lot more water than tonight, and much stronger winds, to take down this barn that fast.”
Lyla was still concerned.
“I’ll bring someone in first thing next week, okay?”
Lyla nodded.
“I brought Margery Sutton home with me because her blood pressure is elevated and she wouldn’t have been able to get out with Rock Creek flooding,” Ellen said.
“I need to check on her. But you’ve done everything you can for the animals.
Come in, eat, and later we’ll come out and check the sandbags. ”
“Okay,” Lyla reluctantly agreed.
Before they could turn off the lights in the barn, they went off themselves. They stepped outside and the house was dark.
“You start the generator to the barn, I’ll take care of the house,” Ellen said. She put up her hood and ran across the plywood Jake and Mateo had laid earlier over the mud, to the far side of the house where the generator was hooked up, fueled, and ready to go.
Penny stepped out on the porch, saw that Ellen had it taken care of, and went back inside. Was her grandmother really going to come out into the rain and risk falling in the mud to start up the generator?
Yes, yes she would, Ellen thought, grateful that she was here to take care of it. Penny may be a spry eighty-four, but a gust of wind could push her down.
Ellen had the generator up and running and was about to go inside when she heard Lyla scream.
She turned and ran toward the barn.
“Lyla!”
She found Lyla in the mud five feet from the generator, holding her hand. “Are you okay?” Ellen asked, squatting next to her. “Where are you hurt?”
“It shocked me! My arm feels numb.”
Ellen inspected her arm, didn’t see any damage, but Lyla’s arm hung awkwardly at her side. “Does it hurt? Is it broken?”
“No, just numb, I can’t feel my fingers.”
Ellen walked over to the generator. At first, she couldn’t see anything unusual, but then realized that there were copper wires where they shouldn’t be, loosely wrapped around the engine.
This wasn’t an accident.
“Mom?” Lyla said.
Ellen went over to her daughter and helped her up. “Go inside, I’ll fix this.”
“What happened?”
“There’s some wires that shouldn’t be here. The numbness will go away, but go inside. Now.”
Lyla obeyed, holding her right arm.
Ellen went into the dark barn, straight to the tack room, where she knew there were work gloves.
She went back and carefully removed the extra wires. Then she inspected the rest of the generator and didn’t see anything wrong. Still, she was worried. She didn’t want to turn it on in case something else was damaged.
She went back into the barn and removed four gallons of fresh milk from the refrigerator.
The rest would go bad overnight without refrigeration, but there wasn’t much she could do about that.
She didn’t even know if they would have room in the refrigerator for these gallons, considering how much cooking Penny had done this week.
She was at the top of the stairs when she saw lights coming down the driveway. She turned, hoping it was Jake, then sighed when it was only a utility work truck with the Cooke County logo on the door.
Idiot, she thought. They should have been out during the week to repair the roads after the hailstorm, there was nothing they could do now until the rain stopped.
She went inside and put the milk on the counter, then waited for the county employee to tell her things she already knew.