Wonderful Lonesome by Newport Olivia

Author:Newport, Olivia [NEWPORT, OLIVIA]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-63058-602-7
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2014-10-09T16:00:00+00:00

The longer Abbie searched, the more her chest clamped down on her breath. If anyone else had found Little Abe, someone would have ridden to the north acres to let her know. By now, well past suppertime, surely Albert had come home to find his wife a frantic puddle of anxiety and disbelief, and he would have taken his other horse out. Reuben would have returned from Willem’s farm hours ago, and the two of them must be searching.

Hours.

Hours since Mary’s buggy rattled onto Weaver land, and perhaps hours more since Little Abe slipped out of the Miller house undetected.

Abbie’s thickened throat scarcely allowed air to pass.

Her first impulse had been to give the horse its head and hurtle toward Little Abe, scanning the countryside. But he was so small. It would be too easy to gallop past him if he had fallen asleep in a ragged field or lay frightened in the shade of a ball of thistle. Instead, Abbie mentally divided the land north of the Miller’s home into calculated sections and set out to cover every square yard in a systematic manner. But when she had taken the buggy through every acre without finding him, and still no one galloped toward her with the news of a rescue, she started over, widening the perimeter of her search and slowing her pace even further.

“God,” she said aloud at regular intervals, “I cannot understand Your will in this. He is an innocent child.”

The horse grew sluggish, and Abbie urged it on. Periodically she slid out of the buggy and walked widening concentric circles around the horse before returning to ride to another sector. Finally she admitted she could no longer see well enough in the descending gray to trust her eyes, and she stopped long enough to fish the lantern out from under the seat and shield the wick from the rising wind long enough to light it. She heard only her own breath, a desperate, shallow, tattered effort to suppress the visions that roared through her mind.

“Little Abe!” she called out, over and over.

She listened for the slightest rustle of small feet, the faintest cry of a small boy’s voice, or the gathering approach of a rider with good news. None of these sounds met her ears.

Abbie stepped farther away from the buggy in full darkness.

The only vibration to break the silence was the distant howl of a coyote.

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