Bandit's Hope by Marcia Gruver

Author:Marcia Gruver
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2011-12-18T20:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-THREE

Faster than it came, the twister was gone. The danger had passed, but Tiller couldn’t turn loose of Mariah. His jaw ached from clenching, and his muscles bunched in knots.

But for the groan of settling boards and a quiet sniff from Dicey, eerie silence filled the cellar. The square patch of sky overhead was deathly still.

No one seemed able to move—until Dicey began to wail.

Miss Vee patted her back. "Now’s not the time to cry. It’s over. We made it."

Tears wet Dicey’s rounded cheeks. "I ain’t bawlin’ for me." Her frantic gaze darted over their faces. "I’m worryin’ ’bout my daddy."

Understanding dawned in Miss Vee’s eyes. "Don’t fret, honey. I’m sure he’ll be fine."

"But it’s headed our way, and we ain’t got no root cellar." Wriggling to the edge of the platform, she struggled to her feet and started for the ladder. "I gots to run home and see."

"Wait," Tiller called. "It could be dangerous."

She stilled and turned, wringing her hands. "What you mean by dangerous?"

He ducked his chin at the opening. "There’s no telling what we’ll find up there. Let the menfolk go first. We’ll have a look around, and then I’ll walk you home to check on your pa."

She retraced her steps and settled obediently on the rim of the shelf.

Realizing he still held Mariah, Tiller glanced down. "Are you all right?"

Her face tilted up, trust shining from her eyes. "I think so."

A smile twitched his lips. "Let me know when you’re sure."

She ducked her head and nodded. "I’m sure."

He gave her a little squeeze then released her to let her sit up. Gazing around in the flickering light, his eyes lit on Otis. "How are you faring, sir?"

Otis chuckled and pulled the quilt tighter around his shoulders. "Missing my bed and my hearth. And this empty belly’s asking for lunch."

Dicey spun to gape at him. "How you gon’ eat after all this?"

Otis beamed. "Hand me a drumstick, and I’ll show you."

Miss Vee snorted. "Let’s pray there’s still a kitchen left to fry a drumstick."

Tiller heaved himself off the ledge. "Who wants to go up top with me and find out?"

Mr. Lenard and his troop stood one at a time, shaking the dust off their clothes. Two of the older men looked a bit shaky.

Tiller nodded at them. "I’d be obliged if you’d wait here to keep an eye on the women."

He didn’t have to ask them twice.

First at the ladder, Tiller climbed, dreading what he might see. The loud crack they’d heard could’ve been anything, but his money was on the oak. He hoped it hadn’t split Bell’s Inn down the middle when it fell.

His anxious gaze cleared the opening. Groaning, he couldn’t believe the devastation.

A blanket of debris covered the backyard in a patchwork of mismatched rubble. Brightly colored quilts tangled with splintered tree limbs. A feather pillow peeked from under a wagon wheel. Shredded wallpaper and cracked lumber mixed with twisted tablecloths, busted frames, and shards of china dishes. Large sections of walls, ceilings, and broken gables scattered the grounds, along with a ripped-out kitchen sink.

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