Authors: Rachelle Morgan
Linsey gave herself a mental shake to jar loose the alarming image. For the love of Gus, she was no better than Daniel's woman of the evening! No, she was worse, for she'd been brought up not to covet anything that belonged to thy neighborâor thy sister. And here she stood, ogling thy sister's intended's rear.
Mortified, she hurried from stake to stake and hauled on the ropes anchoring the balloon to earth. Just as she started to loosen the fourth and final tether, she heard Daniel holler, “There's nobody in here.”
Linsey's spine went taut. “What do you mean, nobody's in there?”
“Just what I said. There's nobody in here.” He enunciated each word as if she had a hearing problem.
Or a mental deficiency.
“But she's got to be in there!” Forgetting the last rope, Linsey hastened toward the ladder dangling against the basket's side. “Addie? Come on out.” Linsey flipped aside the panel of her fur-lined pelisse, thrust her left foot onto the first rung and heaved herself upward. With only one mooring intact, the craft swayed and bobbed. “Addie, Daniel's here.”
The only answer was a sudden rending sound. Then, the craft gave an ominous tug. Linsey went stock-still. Holding fast to the ladder, she called in soft panic, “Daniel?”
Then the last rope snapped.
Addie had just reached for the doorknob when an uneasy sensation made the hair on the back of her neck raise. She couldn't say what compelled her to look over her shoulder, but when she did, the sight of the multicolored ball rising above the church-house steeple sent alarm spiraling through her. Her hand shot to her mouth, catching a gasp. “Oh, no! Oh my heavens, no!”
She shook her head as if to dislodge the
dread coiling through her. Not for one minute did she doubt who at least one occupant of the balloon was. And if Linsey had managed to coerce Daniel into the basket . . . oh, the possibility didn't bear thinking!
The crunch of wheels over gravel and the jingle of harnesses swung her attention to the horse-drawn flatbed rattling toward town. A familiar brawny figure in a flannel shirt and floppy-brimmed frontier hat spurred her into hitching her skirts past her ankles.
Addie flew off the veranda, down Briar Hill. “Mr. Potter!” She waved one arm in a frantic hail. The release of a handful of starched bombazine caused her hem to snag under her swiftly churning feet. She stumbled, then righted herself and cried again, “Mr. Potter, wait!”
He hauled in the reins amidst a duo of raucous neighs. The wagon came to a jerky stop just as Addie reached it.
Her breathing harsh and irregular, she gripped the homespun material of his trouser leg. “Please Mr. Potter, I need you . . . to follow that balloon!”
“Balloon? Jarvis's balloon?”
“My sister is in there!”
“What's Linsey doing inâ”
“Please! There is no time to explain, just . . . make haste!”
Before he could object, and before she had time to think about what she was doing, Addie hauled herself unceremoniously up the mounting step, over Mr. Potter's lap, and fell into the empty spot beside him.
Ignoring his look of astonishment, she pointed west. “After that craft!”
With a bellowing “Haw” and a snap of the reins, the smithy set the horses to lurching forward.
“Hurry, Mr. Potter!” she yelled above the clang of harness, the quick clomp of hooves, and the creak of wood. “We must try and catch them.”
“The horses are goin' as fast as they can!”
His sharp tone silenced Addie, though her mind urged the mounts to greater speed. Mr. Potter took them through the center of town, scattering people and animals out of his path. The horses galloped across the sideless bridge that arched over Horseshoe Creek, onto the gently rolling grasslands where the road was little more than twin ruts. Untamed weeds as high as the underbelly of the wagon grew between the parallel tracks, making it hard to judge where the road twisted.
Addie clamped one hand around Mr. Potter's muscle-bound arm while her other hand clutched the seat. Wind tore at her chignon and scored her eyes. If her sister wasn't already, dying, she'd kill her! How dare Linsey do such a reckless, dangerous thing when her life was already being cut short?
Addie closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer that the winds would ease, that the balloon would drift back to the ground, that Linsey would see the error of her heedless ways and learn to stay at home where she belongedâ
A violent bump interrupted the plea.
The wagon tilted, then tipped, rolling onto its side. Addie heard the horses scream just before she was thrown to the ground. A crushing weight fell on top of her. For a moment, she feared the wagon was smashing herâexcept wagons didn't smell of hot irons and damp leather.
Then she became aware of a button imprinting itself on her nose, and the expanding breath of a human body. “Mr. Potter, please remove yourself from my person before I suffocate.”
In the next instant the weight lifted from her, leaving her skin oddly cold.
“Miss Witt, are you all right?”
“What happened?”
“Must've hit a stone.”
“The horses! I heard them scream . . .”
A moment's silence wrought with anxiety stretched tightly between them as he glanced around. “Don't see hide nor hair of 'em. Broke free, I reckon. They'll head for home,” he said, turning back to her.
Despite the reassuring smile that tugged at his full mouth, worry clouded the blue of his eyes. She hadn't realized until now what a pretty blue they wereâa mix of light and dark, like the swirling waters of Horseshoe Creek, with long lashes any lady would envy. Then those lashes dropped over his eyes, his gaze lowered, and then climbed back up her.
Addie's throat went oddly dry. She undoubtedly looked like she'd been roped and dragged. Her clothes were soiled and torn, her chignon had completely come loose from its
pins, and she didn't need to look to know how dirty she was, for she felt the grit clinging to her skin.
And still, he looked at her, his gaze growing darker, hooded.
Disturbed by the steady regard, Addie looked away and passed a trembling hand through her tangled hair. What did he think when he looked at her? She knew how plain she was, how dullâand yet, for a moment there, just before his large body rocked to a stand, she could have sworn she'd seen hunger in his eyes.
“Dad gummit,” he cussed, standing beside the wagon with his hands on his hips. “I just had this wheel fixed before Bleet kicked the bucketâbeggin' your pardon, miss.”
“Now what will we do?”
“Ain't no help for itâwe start walkin'”
“Walking? Where to?”
“Town, I reckon. It's only a few miles.”
“But my sisterâ”
“Will have to fend for herself,” he interrupted. “There's no way we can catch her without horses. And by the time we get to town, that balloon will be long gone. Could be days before she brings it down.”
“Days?”
“Yep. Jarvis said some fellas had their airship cloud-borne for a week. Course, they knew what they were doin' up there.” Oren shook his head. “Sure hope your sister does.”
Linsey clutched the rope ladder with all her strength as the wind lifted the balloon at a rapid rate.
Her eyes watered, her muscles felt like jelly, and her arms were stretched to the point of being yanked out of the sockets.
She chanced a glance down. Her eyes popped wide at the ever-growing distance between herself and the ground. Oh, Lordy! She hadn't expected the craft to soar so high, and not so fast.
To make matters worse, Jarvis chose that moment to enter the empty lot, his arms loaded with items Linsey couldn't identify from her lofty position. Behind him trailed a contingent of spectators, their gestures signaling the excitement of attending such a grand and unique ascension.
Jarvis spotted her a second later. The gear spilled to the ground. He raced forward. Dimly she heard him shouting at her. Waving his arms, stomping his feet, he demanded she bring his balloon back.
If only she could!
Right now, it was all she could do to keep from falling. With a strength she didn't know she had, she pulled herself upward, only to have a gust of wind swoop down and catch the underbelly of the basket. Her foot slipped off the rung; Linsey dangled in midair, a scream lodged in her throat. Was this it then? The end? She'd known her days were numbered, but of all the ways she'd imagined going, plummeting from hundreds of feet in the air hadn't been among them.
The old-timers claimed a person saw their whole life pass before their eyes in the moments before death; Linsey could now support
that claimâfor in a split second, she saw a five-year-old redhead picking four-leaf clovers on Briar Hill; making faces at Addie while she struggled through one of her piano lessons; the time she dragged Addie upstairs in the Rusty Bucket saloon, just for curiosity's sake, and got an eyeful of Daniel she never dreamed of. . . .
“Daaa-nieeel!”
Oh, please, help me, she prayed, clutching the ropes for all she was worth as the balloon continued rising. Don't let me die like this, in a broken, bleeding heap. Not now, not yet, not when I've got so many things left to do. . . .
Just when her strength reached the verge of failure, she heard Daniel's voice. “Jesus, Linsey!” Then a pair of steely fingers wrapped around Linsey's wrists.
“Grab hold of me; I'll pull you up.”
“If I let go, I'll fall.”
“No, you won't. I won't let you.”
She hesitated only a second before releasing first one side of the ladder to grasp desperately at Daniel's wrist, then the other.
“Now push yourself up.”
She didn't think she had any strength left, and yet, as if Daniel were lending her some of his, she managed to fight both the wind and fear, and she climbed. One rung. Two.
Then Daniel's arms were under hers, and around her back, and the next thing she knew, she had cleared the rim. Linsey's knees buckled beneath her and she collapsed against Daniel's chest.
Blessed life pumped beneath the cheek she
pressed against his heart. Linsey savored the strength against her, around her, as she inhaled the glorious musky scent of man, the tang of soap, the crispness of starched linen. Never had smells smelled so wonderful.
“Are you all right?”
Willing her shattered nerves to regroup and her racing pulses to calm, she nodded. “A little shaken is all.”
“Do you realize that if I hadn't heard all that shouting, I wouldn't have had any idea you were hanging from that ladder?”
“I know.” She lifted her head and stared at him. She didn't care if the worship she felt in her soul showed in her eyes. Daniel had risked his own safety for her, and she could never forget that. “You saved my life, Daniel.” And even though she didn't have much of it left, every second was precious.
“If I had any sense, I would have let you fall,” he countered in a gruff, almost affectionate tone she'd never heard from him before.
He set her away from him and passed a hand through his windblown hair. It surprised her to see his fingers shaking.
“What the hell were you doing on that ladder anyway?” he demanded.
“Hanging on for dear life.”
“That's not what I meant and you know it.”
“It wasn't supposed to happen this way, I swear! You were supposed toâ” Linsey clamped her lips shut.
His eyes narrowed to slits. “I was supposed to what?”
Appalled at how easily she'd almost let her plan slip, Linsey changed the subject. “Nothing. Let's just figure out how to get this thing down.”
Blacksmiths are credited with magical powers because of their association with fire, iron, and horses.
N
ibbling on her thumbnail, Linsey studied the gear secured in the center of a metal hoop above her head and tried to ignore Daniel's taut silence. But she knew she'd have better luck putting out a wildfire with a paper fan.
In a menacing voice, he asked, “What do you mean, figure out how to get this thing down? Don't you know how to work this contraption?”
“How am I supposed to work it? I've never been in a balloon before!”
“And I have?”
“Jarvis is your friend, not mine.”
“That doesn't mean he told me how to operate this thing. Until two days ago, I didn't even know he'd bought it. He kept it a guarded secret.”
She felt her face blanch. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes.”
So much for her theory that Daniel would know how to handle the craft. “Well, there must be some way to lower the balloon.” Linsey searched the interior of the basket. All around the perimeter, burlap bags tied with twine lay in beds of coiled rope. She bent to investigate one of the sacks and discovered it was heavy with sand. “Aha, maybe these will do the trick.”
After tying each sandbag at intervals around the rim, Linsey tossed them out of the basket one by one, then leaned over the side to assess her handiwork. The sandbags simply dangled in the air, knocking against each other but doing nothing to weigh down the craft. In fact, the balloon might even have risen a few feet.
“That worked real well,” Daniel drawled.
“Got any better ideas?”
“We could toss you out.”
She shot him a blazing look. “At least I'm trying. All you're doing is standing there.”
“You're the one who got us up here. It's only fair that you get us down.”
Though it remained unsaid, she got the impression that he didn't think she could do it. “Okay, let me think, let me think. . . .” Ignoring his snigger, Linsey walked in a circle, tapping her temples. “Jarvis said something about opening a flap.” She eyed the swollen panels, then the apparatus at the mouth. “I know one of these valves releases the hydrogen, so maybe the other one opens something to release the air.”