Looking at Aven, there was a hint of regret in Thor’s eyes as he gestured a request for a compress for Peter.
She minded not a bit. “Certainly.” Aven stepped away, but not before hearing what Peter said next.
“Pa and the boys’r talkin’ of comin’ this way. Somethin’ tells me this ain’t the time for that, but they’ll be comin’ all the same. Prob’ly tonight.”
There was no sense waiting around like sitting ducks. It helped that Thor’s desire to head out matched Jorgan’s own. Before leaving to see the women along to Cora’s, Thor chose two pistols, checking that they were loaded. He set the safety on each and tucked the first pistol snug at his back in the waistband of his pants. It was a cold day, so his plaid coat covered it well. Jorgan had the other. He could tell by the lump beneath Peter’s shirt that he was armed as well.
Peter said little as they took the road. Grete trailed them, sniffing the ground as if on the trail of something she didn’t like. Once to Cora’s, they relinquished Fay and Aven to stay with Ida and the others. Aven’s eyes were wet, and sensing her fears, Thor pulled her to him and held her as tight as he could.
With only a few moments to spare, Jorgan explained what was going on. It was safer for Al to stay, and there couldn’t have been a better man to aid the women. Grete they pushed into the house, then fastened the door snug.
Peter finally spoke. Explaining a few things as they headed to the Sorrel farm. How many men there were. Who was the best shot. Just how angry Jed was.
They’d taken mere steps up to the old mansion when men poured out of the house. Six . . . seven . . . eight. Two hopped over the railing and another climbed out a side window. The wind shifted, fluttering the white cloaks and hoods on the clothes line. A taunt.
With Peter’s father speaking, Thor shifted to better see him. “. . . so tell your little brother to stay off our land.”
Haakon?
They’d seen him?
Jorgan had a heck of a poker face, and Thor hoped he did as well. Jorgan took his time in answering. “We ain’t got a thing that’s yours. You’re welcome to a search, though. Come now if you want. A good place to start”—Jorgan casually shifted his stance—“would be the cidery. You know how to find it, I imagine.”
Sorrels exchanged glances.
An odd scent tinged the air. Thor inhaled deeply. There. A smell that wasn’t right. One that tainted his awareness even above the stink of their sweat and his cider on their breath. Thor’s sense of smell was sharper than others, so he signed to Jorgan to see if his brother noticed it as well.
Jorgan shook his head.
Thor fingerspelled S-U-L-F-U-R.
His brother gave a slight nod.
The men watched, looking both puzzled and irritated. Thor’s focus on them fractured when a little girl bounded from around the back of the house. About as young as Georgie, her ears were large and round where they poked through her straw-blonde hair. She was the only movement on the farm. Her faded red dress bounced above her bare ankles as she skipped along in the direction of the massive barn.
No one paid her much mind, and even Thor’s attention was short-lived when every head whipped to the east. He followed suit. Nothing showed out of the ordinary, which meant they’d heard something. Then he saw it: a tumble of leaves and dirt down the steep hillside . . . running boots . . . then a man—Haakon.
Haakon barreled down the slope, using his hands for balance as he skidded around a fallen log. His face was panicked, and he was shouting something, gaze locked on the little girl. Haakon smashed through branches at the base of the hill and charged toward the child who had slowed just in front of the barn door.
Her small hand seized the latch. Haakon stumbled again, righting his stance just as he reached her. He grabbed her up and ran straight for the Sorrels.
The girl’s eyes pinched tight, mouth open in a scream. Still Haakon raced forward.
Several charged him, but Haakon slammed past, shoving the crying girl into Thor’s arms.
Thor grabbed her, and his brother’s face was so close. Greenish bruises flanking eyes that were wet with grief. Despair and shock crashed through Thor’s numbness, and even if he wanted to put words to the thousand things that needed to be said, there wasn’t time.
Collar open, Haakon’s chest heaved, glistening with sweat and dirt. His gaze tore from Thor’s as he turned. Slipped. Caught himself. And ran back the way he’d come. He had stolen but steps when the earth shook. A heat exploding into the air as timbers of the great barn shattered outward.
The men crouched, Thor included. He hovered over the girl, using one arm to wrap her head as another section of the barn blew. Then another. Suddenly, the earth shook again as the whole building came apart in one great ball of fire.
Thor draped the girl best he could, and another man pulled her beneath him. His arms free, Thor wrapped his own head even as he worked to help shield the child. His skin stung through his clothes.
As quick as it had seared, the air cooled enough for them to unfold. A cloud of black smoke billowed from the barn, chased skyward by angry fames. Sorrel men struggled to their feet. Mouths moved in shouts.
The missing ammunition. The smell of sulfur. A potent explosive. Something Haakon knew how to do.
The nearest man lifted the girl to her feet and sent her running for the house. If this had been Haakon’s plan, he must have been watching from the hilltop, hidden from sight. He’d blown his cover for the child. A great price when Jed pulled a gun from his hip.
The man set aim on Haakon and fired.
Thor lunged for the general, slamming into the wall of Sorrels that surrounded him. Thor fought to get forward but couldn’t reach Jed as the gun fired again. The bullet hit just feet below Haakon, who was clamoring up the base of the hill.
The heat from the fire slicked Thor’s skin with sweat as men shoved him to the ground. Thor kicked and swung, but still they slammed him down. He couldn’t find Jorgan.
Jed’s gun jerked again . . . shot hitting wide. At the steepest part of the slope, Haakon ducked against the off spray and struggled to climb higher. Dirt spilled from beneath his boots, waterfalling down the hill. Another gun reeled, its bullet ripping through a sapling.
Desperate, Thor pummeled the nearest man, striking with all he had to get free. Haakon was nearly to the top now, but Jed’s aim was surer and surer with each trigger pull.
A tree limb shattered with the next shot. Haakon stumbled. Thor’s heart tearing in two as his brother hit the ground. Someone reached for the pistol at his back, and Thor turned to sock the man in the shoulder.
Haakon scrambled up and kept running.
Thor thrashed with everything he had. He kicked a man in the gut and elbowed another in the face. It gave him way to break free enough to scramble to his feet. He reached Jed as the man was pulling the trigger on the final round. Thor grabbed the hot barrel, jerking it up.
The bullet should have swept high, but Haakon stumbled.
Dropped.
A cry choked Thor of air. Another man drew a gun, and more shots pierced through branches and leaves, shooting bark and dirt. Thor freed his pistol, cocked it, and pressed it to the Sorrel’s head. The man stopped firing, and the gun fell limp on the crook of his finger. Reaching over, Thor took the firearm, aimed it to the western sky, and emptied it. Smoke stung his mouth, filled the air. Tinted blue by liquor, flames ate at the barn.
Jorgan rose to his feet, spitting out blood. Peter was still down, but he was moving. Sorrel men were down as well, some struggling to rise. No more guns fired—the traces of ammo gone as all the rest.
Desperate for Haakon, Thor surveyed the hillside but couldn’t see anything in the thickening smoke. The wind shifted, pushing the smoke aside, only for the sky to darken again. Thor ran forward. A burn in his chest tugged at his pulse. Then a figure moved amid the smoke.