Page 66 of The Condemned (Echoes from the Past #6)

FIFTY-SIX

Mary eventually returned to the cabin. She hung up her cloak on the peg and took off her shoes.

The fire had burned down low, so she threw on a few more logs and stood in front of the hearth, warming herself until she felt a pleasant somnolence steal over her.

Travesty had already cleared the table and retired to her loft, and John and Simon were still at the table, too drunk to pay her any mind.

They went out shortly after, John mumbling something about taking a walk.

He never came to bed at all, but Mary didn’t care.

She turned her face to the wall and went to sleep, grateful not to have to endure his ale-soured breath.

When Mary awoke the following morning, she tied on her apron and began going about her chores, her mind on her half-formed plan.

She couldn’t simply walk off into the wilderness.

She had no way to contact Walker and she didn’t know where his village was.

The only thing she could do was tie a rag to the branch of the oak and hope Walker saw it and came to her.

He’d find a way. By midmorning, she was ready.

Mary grabbed a strip of linen from her work basket and stuck her feet in her shoes.

“And where are you off to?” Travesty asked.

“I’m going for a walk.”

Travesty mumbled something about people who shirked doing their share of the housework and thought they could get away with it, but Mary ignored her and left the cabin.

She walked to the creek and tied the scrap of linen to the branch, then turned to go back, but her feet wouldn’t move.

She didn’t want to go back. She wanted to see Walker.

Now. Today. She knew he wouldn’t be at the shack, but that was the only place she could feel close to him.

It was their place, their sanctuary. Mary turned on her heel and walked along the bank.

The snow of the previous day had melted, so no one would see her footprints and figure out where she’d gone.

She’d simply say she took a walk in the woods .

The cabin was cold and dim, the ashes from the fire acrid in the ring of stones arranged in the center of the shack just beneath the vent hole in the roof.

Mary sat on the cot and caressed the fur where she and Walker had lain, but it was damp and cold.

She reached beneath and brought out the necklace.

It felt warm in her hand and she held it close, wishing she could summon Walker with the sheer power of her need.

Why had she waited so long to decide? Now the woods would be impassable in the north and they wouldn’t be able to leave until the spring thaw.

Walker had told her as much, but she’d thought she had time.

Mary got to her feet and was about to hide the necklace beneath the fur when she changed her mind.

If Walker came, she wanted him to know she’d been there looking for him.

She arranged the necklace on the three-legged stool that held a single candlestick with a nearly burned-down stub of a candle.

He was sure to see it there. She then pulled the door closed behind her and turned for home.

She had to hurry back before anyone became suspicious of her absence.

This wasn’t the time to draw attention to herself, especially since she’d need to find a way to sneak out again soon.

Mary reached the fallen log and stepped onto the wood, eager to get across quickly.

From here, it was only a quarter of a mile or so back to the plantation.

She was almost at the other end of the log when her foot slipped on the damp bark.

Mary wobbled and threw out her arms to steady herself, but the sudden motion made her lose her footing completely.

She cried out in alarm as she went over the side and fell into the creek with a loud splash, her woolen skirts instantly soaking up the icy water and dragging her under.

The creek wasn’t too deep, but the shock of the fall and the frigid water momentarily stunned Mary and she began to sink.

Her waterlogged skirts swirled upward, making it impossible to get her bearings in the murky water as the heavy fabric closed in around her head.

Mary struggled, trying to push the wool out of her face.

Once she managed this small victory, she was able to stand on her feet and push off from the bottom, coming up to the surface, sputtering and dripping water.

The bank was slippery and steep, with nothing to grab onto to help her haul herself out of the water.

Mary reached for the log and hoisted herself up before crawling the last few feet to the bank.

Her clothes were sodden, and her hair was plastered to her head.

She’d lost one shoe while struggling to get purchase on the muddy bottom and her cloak was torn where it’d snagged on a branch as she fell.

Mary forced herself to her feet and hobbled along the bank.

She was shivering so hard her teeth rattled, but she had to get home.

She yelped as she stepped on a pine cone with her stockinged foot.

Her one shoe squelched with mud and her wet clothes weighed her down.

She’d never been so cold in her life. Mary ran the last few yards before yanking open the door and falling into the cabin.

“What happened to you?” Travesty exclaimed when she saw the state of her. “Good heavens, you’ll catch your death. Get out of those wet clothes.” She tore the blanket off the bed and came toward Mary, holding it open. “Take everything off and wrap this around yourself.”

Mary undressed quickly and grabbed for the blanket.

The wool felt rough against her chilled skin, but at least it was warm and dry.

Travesty pushed one of the benches close to the fire and told Mary to sit down.

She did as she was told, while Travesty put some water on to boil and hung Mary’s clothes on the other side of the bench.

The fabric began to steam, and the smell of wet wool filled the cabin.

Travesty poured some hot water into a basin and set it on the floor.

“Put your feet in,” she said.

Mary stuck her feet in the water and sighed with pleasure as a wonderful warmth spread through her. She was still shaking, and her hair was wet, but at least her teeth were no longer chattering. She sat hunched beneath the blanket, her head drooping with sudden fatigue.

Once the water in the basin cooled, Travesty took it away and gave Mary an appraising look. “You’d best get yourself to bed.”

Mary didn’t argue. She climbed between the sheets, still wrapped in the blanket.

Travesty climbed to her loft and returned with her own blanket, which she used to cover Mary.

Travesty seemed to be saying something, but Mary couldn’t hear her over the roar in her ears.

Her limbs felt like tree trunks and she shivered violently now that she was away from the fire.

She tried to say something but couldn’t seem to get the words out.

Her teeth were chattering again, and cold ropes of hair wrapped themselves around her neck, the water soaking into her pillow.

Mary pulled the blanket over her head and buried her face in its warm folds. She needed to sleep. She was so tired.