Chapter 13
One Month Ago
Hattie had come to the church because she wanted help, but from the moment she arrived she felt she was getting far more than she deserved.
Ben, the young man who’d opened the door and let her in, had looked surprised and disheveled. There’d even been some apprehension in his eyes, as though he wasn’t sure he ought to be helping.
Then there was the old woman, Sister Matthews. Hattie hadn’t gone to church in a long while, preferring to spend her time at home or on a horse. She’d nearly run away when she spotted the woman’s harsh face and dark habit, but her touch had been gentle and kind.
To Hattie’s surprise, Father Tillman had been just as gracious as the rest of them. He only spoke to her briefly, keeping his distance and treating her like a wild animal so he wouldn’t startle her, but from that small exchange she’d seen the compassion in his face.
That was what made it so hard to do what she had to do.
Hattie woke with a start the morning after she arrived at St. Thomas. Her breath came in hard gasps as she took in her unfamiliar surroundings. The simple bed and the scratchy blankets didn’t belong to her. Neither did the dress she was wearing, which was a bit loose around the waist.
The thud of horse hooves and the jangling of bridles brought her to her feet, cautiously peering out the window.
What she saw made her stomach churn, and she jerked backwards.
Cutter was here! Somehow, they’d tracked her through the night and through the mountains, finding the strange little orphanage in its valley.
He sat astride his horse, looking just as confident as always as he shouted for someone to come out.
Bo was there, too, or at least what was left of him. Blood oozed from his wounds. His eyes rolled in his head, and he barely managed to stay in the saddle.
It was too bad the bear hadn’t taken them all out. The creature could’ve had a very nice meal, and Hattie could’ve been rid of them.
But Cutter Kincaid wasn’t the kind of man who gave up, not even after a bear attack.
The floorboards thumped in a nearby room as the residents prepared to greet their guests.
True panic gripped Hattie like an icy hand.
Ben and the others had taken her in so readily.
They’d fixed her up, given her new clothes, and made a meal for her without demanding to know how she’d gotten into her situation.
It was kind, but was it also stupid?
Would they do the same for Cutter? Would they invite him in, sit him down at their table, and introduce them to their other visitor?
These poor folks had no idea who Cutter really was, Hattie was sure. She was cornered like a mouse, and the sweet little nun would present her like a treat to the vicious cat outside.
Hattie opened the door to her bedroom. Nobody was in the kitchen. She glanced around, waiting for an orphan to come popping out of a corner, but she saw none. Where was she going to go? She couldn’t leave without Cutter seeing her, and he’d catch her in a moment.
Sister Matthews had cleaned and bound her feet, but they hurt like hell with each step. Fear pulsed through her and filled her chest. She needed to hide!
That was when she spotted the trap door. It was barely visible under the small worktable in the kitchen, a few extra lines in the hardwood floor that shouldn’t have been there.
She slipped under the table and picked up the metal ring. The hollow space under the orphanage was dark and cool. It seemed to be big enough to hold her, but she couldn’t tell any more than that.
Hattie couldn’t leave, but what if she could stay? She raced back into her room and grabbed her dress, which she’d left in a pile on the floor when she’d changed. If Cutter made his way inside, then he wouldn’t find anything to indicate she’d been there.
Her time was running out, but Hattie darted into the pantry across the kitchen. She’d seen the generous amount of food stored there, and they wouldn’t notice if a little bit was missing. Hattie folded up her skirt and filled it with cheese, crackers, and dried salami.
A dress lay over a nearby chair. Hattie didn’t question why it was there. She simply took it, along with a pair of boots near the door that looked like they were about her size. Silently, she apologized to whoever she was inconveniencing.
Squirming back under the table, Hattie lowered herself into the hole. Thoughts of mice and spiders raced through her mind, but they were better than the fate that awaited her if Cutter found her.
Footsteps sounded nearby in the hall. Hattie wouldn’t ask the good people of the orphanage to hide her.
She’d just make arrangements so that she couldn’t be found at all.
She quickly lowered the door over her head as she ducked down, pushing against it just before it closed so that it wouldn’t make a sound.
It was a crawlspace, an open layer inside the foundation of the orphanage that was only about three feet tall. Hattie held her breath, waiting and listening.
“We find ourselves in need of some assistance.” Cutter’s voice came through the stones that made up the foundation along the edge of the building. It was muffled, but she could hear every word. Her spine tingled with worry as she listened to their conversation.
“We’re a humble establishment, and we’re not set up to accommodate guests,” Father Tillman said a short while later.
Hattie slowly let her breath out through her lips. The priest didn’t want them there. He was smart enough to take a look at them and realize that they meant trouble. Only a little while longer, and then she’d figure out the next step.
But Father Tillman sent the men out to the barn, accompanied by Ben and later Sister Matthews. They weren’t leaving! That still left plenty of time for conversation, plenty of chances for Cutter to ask about her, a huge opportunity for one of them to tell Cutter the truth.
A bit of missing mortar between the foundation stones allowed a small amount of light into the crawlspace, and Hattie’s eyes were beginning to adjust. She had plenty of room as long as she didn’t need to stand up.
With little else to do but wait, she spread out her old dress face down in the dirt and lay on top of it.
“I can’t find her anywhere. She’s gone!” someone said a while later.
Hattie could hear the conversations that happened above her just as well as she could the ones outside. She listened to them bustle back and forth, looking all over for her. Hattie curled up on her old dress, waiting for the trap door to open.
Her worst fear had happened. They would find her, and they would hand her over. Hattie held her breath and strained her ear toward the underside of the floor.
It’d been terrifying to run through the woods and mountains in an effort to get away from Cutter. It was much worse while she crouched in the crawlspace, unable to run, unable to move. She could hardly breathe with her knees curled up against her chest.
Hattie blinked. Her vision was going dark around the edges, but it was hard to tell in the already dim light.
“I lied. I said I hadn’t seen her.” That was Ben’s voice.
Her shoulders sagged. She sucked in a dusty breath, and her vision cleared. Ben seemed like such a strait-laced young man, nothing like the rough riders she was used to being around, and yet he’d lied for her. Hattie relaxed a little.
There was more conversation and bustling about for a while. Footsteps echoed in the crawlspace, and sometimes dust shook down on the top of her head.
“She’s left,” Ben announced.
“May God be with her,” Father Tillman intoned.
Hattie collapsed onto her makeshift pallet. She had effectively disappeared. Nobody knew where she’d gone, and that meant she was safe.
* * *
The days went by slowly. With each one, Hattie contemplated leaving. She couldn’t stay hidden underneath an orphanage forever. But once again she was faced with the dilemma of where to go. She had no home to return to, not really. Her loved ones were gone.
The next morning, she heard Sister Matthews announce that Cutter had left. Hattie wanted to shout with joy, but she dug her nails into her palm to keep herself silent. The more distance between herself and those awful men, the better.
By the second morning, Hattie found the small door in the side of the foundation. It was nothing more than a few pieces of wood tacked together and placed on a hinge. A few small toys nearby, abandoned in the dirt, suggested that some of the orphans had played down there at some point.
This concerned her. The last thing she needed was for some child to come down to play in the crawlspace and then run off, screaming about a ghost underneath the building.
But no children came. They ran over the floorboards above her head. They argued at the dining table. They raced all around the outside of the building, laughing and screaming. The door never opened.
Hattie wriggled out at night, slipping off into the woods to relieve herself. She listened carefully for any sign that Cutter had turned around and come back. She wouldn’t put it past him to pretend to leave, only to return in the hope of catching her.
Owls swooped down to grab mice from the garden. A few deer stalked through the trees, but otherwise she was alone.
Hattie stopped at the well as she’d done when she first arrived. She washed the dirt from her face and hands. She unwound the bindings from her feet and washed her wounds. She had no fresh linens, and she couldn’t tie them on as well as Sister Matthews had, but at least they’d stopped bleeding.
Then she paused at the little door in the foundation. Her neck and back ached from not being able to stand up straight. She crawled inside anyway.
Over time, Hattie began to figure out the routine of the orphanage. Sister Andrews—whose footsteps were much lighter and her voice much higher than Sister Matthews’—was the first to wake. She went into the kitchen to prepare breakfast, sending mouthwatering scents down through the floor to Hattie.