Page 70 of More than Words Can Say

He took a step toward the bakery, then checked himself. He’d promised to watch over Rosalind. Simeon too. She wouldn’t thank him if he left his post. Yet when they crawled past the shop and there continued to be no sight of her, the unease inside him deepened.

Zach jogged over to the wagon and called out to Rosalind, “Can you see Abby?” She had a higher vantage point from inside the wagon bed and should be able to see over the heads of the people packing the boardwalk.

Lines etched her forehead as she peered at the shop window. She shook her head. “No. There’s no movement in the shop at all.”

“She’s probably in the kitchen,” Zach said, forcing a smile to his face that he didn’t feel. No need to get Rosalind worried. She had enough on her mind already. “I’ll go by and check on her when the parade’s done,” he said without really looking at Rosalind. Better that no one else knew of their concern. “You can stay with Reuben and start setting up the booth. I hired a kid to help.”

“You did?” Rosalind’s waving hand dropped momentarily before she picked it up and resumed her Queen Bee stance.

“Told him he could have a second biscuit if he helped set up the booth. More if he drummed up business for us.” Zach met her eyes for a brief moment. “The kid seemed hungry.”

That brought a dash of fire to her eyes. “I’ll see he gets ample payment if you’re not back yet.”

He hoped he’d be back. Hoped whatever was going on with Abby was a minor hiccup and nothing serious. A stabbing fear jabbed his heart. What if she was hurt?

Tension radiated through him, lengthening Zach’s stride. When he sped past Simeon, though, he realized his error, turned around, and marched back into position. He modulated his steps, his legs feeling as if they’d been shackled in heavy irons. This plodding pace was going to kill him.

Take care of her until I can get there, Lord. Send someone else if need be. Just . . . take care of her. Please.

It seemed like an eternity before the float made it to the ending point at the churchyard. The moment the alderman pulled the wagon to a stop, Zach had his hands around Rosalind’s waist, lifting her over the side.

“Reuben, I’ve got to check on Abigail,” he said after setting Rosalind down. “Something’s not right at the shop.”

His partner, who had hunkered down to congratulate his daughter on a job well done, shot Zach a look and immediately straightened. “Go. I’ll set up the booth.”

Zach paused long enough to place a hand on his friend’s shoulder. He lowered his voice to a barely audible rumble. “I need you to guard Rosalind too.”

Reuben raised a brow. “Guard her?” he asked in equally hushed tones.

“Just watch out for fellas who get too friendly or treat her disrespectfully. She’s had some problems lately.” He couldn’t say more without violating Rosalind’s privacy, but Reuben didn’t need any additional explanation. His eyes had already gone hard.

“No harm will come to her.”

The words were a vow, and Zach found he trusted them as much as if they’d come from Seth or Logan. He trusted Reuben completely. He couldn’t fill one hand with the number of men he could say that about.

Feeling a thickness start to clog his throat, Zach cleared it away and squeezed Reuben’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Reuben nodded. “As soon as Audrey collects the twins, the rest of us will get started on the booth. I won’t leave Rosalind’s side. You have my word.”

“You’re a good friend, Reuben Sinclair.”

“As are you.” Reuben cleared his own throat, then slapped Zach on the back. “Now go. See about your wife.”

Zach turned to go, then recalled the boy he’d hired to help with the booth. “There’s a kid—”

“I’ll fill him in,” Rosalind interrupted. “Go.”

Deciding it was rather nice to have people other than himself to rely on, Zach lifted a hand in thanks, then took off for the bakery. His run slowed to a jog then a walk the closer he got to the square. The crowds were thick and milling every which way, making it hard for a big man to maneuver. Once he managed to get into the alley, though, his path cleared.

He noticed two things immediately. Glass had been broken out of the back windowpane, and the back door stood slightly ajar.

“Abby!” Terror seized him as he bounded through the back door. Had she interrupted a robbery? Been attacked by a thief who had used the parade as cover?

His hands balled into fists, ready to fight whatever threat awaited. But then a flash of blue caught in his peripheral vision. He turned his head just as Abigail lifted hers from where she lay crumpled on the floor. Red-rimmed eyes met his. Tears had left streaks in the soot and smoke stains on her face. Gray scorch marks marred her white shirtwaist, and the stench of gunpowder filled his nostrils.

Zach dropped to his knees and grabbed her arms. “Are you all right?” His voice cracked, but then, his heart was hammering against his ribs so hard that he was amazed he managed to form any words at all.

New tears filled her eyes, and tremors coursed through her as she shook her head. “It’s gone, Zach. It’s all gone.”