“My daughter is not moving,” Mrs. Dunning called, terror clear in her voice. “I can’t get to her. My foot is stuck. Please help us!”
Still searching for a way in around the walls that remained standing, Madeline began to clear some fallen and splintered boards out of the way, trying to get closer. One of the window panes had been splintered by a fallen beam, and Madeline carefully grabbed the wooden frame with her hands, giving it a careful shake.
It did not move.
Did not even sway.
Encouraged, she put more strength into it, trying to determine if it could be used as a way inside. Would the wall hold if she attempted to climb in through the window?
“Where are you?” Madeline called again. “Are you or Erin near the broken window? Can you see it from where you are?”
“I’m across the room, but I can see it,” Mrs. Dunning called. “My daughter is in-between. Something hit her on the head.” A sob escaped the terrified mother. “She’s not moving.”
Cursing under her breath, Madeline gritted her teeth and placed her hands on the window frame. She could not wait for their neighbours. She needed to do something now. “Is she breathing?”
“I don’t know. It’s too dark to see.”
Madeline took a deep breath and began to push herself up, slowly and carefully lifting herself onto the window frame, listening for the wood to give way under her weight.
However, it did not.
Encouraged, Madeline inched forward, gazing into the darkness inside the collapsed cottage. Without the moon, it was almost pitch black. Swinging her legs over, she began to lower herself toward the floor as her muscles strained to hold her. What if little Erin lay closer than her mother thought? What if she stepped on the girl in the dark?
Closing her eyes for a moment, Madeline drew in a deep breath before suddenly the muscles in her right arm began to quiver under the strain, and she slumped down abruptly.
A sharp pain cut into her arm, and Madeline cried out.
“Are you all right?” Mrs. Dunning called out. “What happened?”
Gritting her teeth, Madeline felt her arm, her fingers touching something cold, smooth, wet.
A piece of glass from the broken window.
As her teeth ground together to muffle her cry, Madeline pulled the shard from her flesh, feeling a warm wetness run down her arm and onto her dress.
Blood, her mind supplied matter-of-factly.
Drawing a handkerchief from one of her coat pockets, Madeline tied it around her arm, using her teeth to pull the knot tight. Then she turned to the darkened room.
Lowering herself onto her hands and knees, she carefully moved forward, occasionally reaching out a hand to determine if there was anything in her way. Slowly, she crawled onward until her hand brushed over something soft.
Fabric.
Moving closer, Madeline’s hand travelled from the girl’s skirts upward and found her warm body. “I found her,” she whispered, uncertain if the widow had heard her with the howling wind outside. Hope and fear tightened her chest as she moved her hand to the girl’s chest…and waited.
For a moment that seemed to last an eternity, nothing happened, and Madeline’s body grew cold with terror.
But then Erin’s chest rose…and fell…and rose again.
Exhaling loudly, Madeline almost slumped to the floor in relief. “She’s breathing!” she called into the darkness.
Relieved sobs came from the far corner of the room. “Thank you. She is hurt.”
Feeling the child’s head, Madeline found a wet stickiness on her left temple. “She has a cut on her forehead,” she told the worried mother, “but the bleeding seems to have stopped.”
“Good,” Mrs. Dunning mumbled. “Good. Can you get her out?”
“What about you?”
“Get her out,” Erin’s mother insisted. “I’ll be fine.”
“All right.” Pulling the girl into her arms, Madeline began dragging her toward the window where a few silvery rays shone in, showing her the way out. “Don’t worry, little Erin. We’re almost there.” As she reached the wall, Madeline pushed herself onto her feet and then pulled the girl off the floor, lifting her as best as she could.
Gritting her teeth, Madeline cursed under her breath, doing her best to ignore the painful throbbing of her injured flesh. Then she took a last step and looked out the window, watchful of broken shards that would harm the girl in her arms.
As her gaze travelled over the small slope in the distance, Madeline froze, squinting her eyes, wondering if she had truly seen a light or if she was beginning to see bright spots due to blood loss. Was someone coming? “Hello?” she called into the open. “Is someone there?”
Instantly, voices responded, but they were too far away for her to understand what they were saying.
Again, Madeline called out, hoping that their neighbours would find them quickly. It would be far safer for Erin if someone were to take her from Madeline than if she tried to climb through the window with the girl in her arms. “Hello? Who’s there?”
“Over there!” Sean’s voice called, and Madeline sighed in relief, her eyes focusing on the faint lights in the distance.
A moment later, she could make out a group of shadows approaching the cottage in haste, two or three of them carrying a torch. Their long strides bringing them closer fast. As the clouds moved once more, Madeline spotted Sean as well as Mr. Thompson and several tenants she had come to know well over the past few weeks. Their faces were tense, their eyes wide, as they surveyed the damage.
“Take her,” Madeline said when Sean and Mr. Thompson reached the window. “Her mother is on the other side of the room. Her foot seems to be stuck.”
Mr. Thompson nodded, handing little Erin to Sean, who stepped back, cradling the little girl in his arms. “Step aside. I’ll come in.”
Madeline nodded, then turned around. Stretching out her hands, she took a careful step forward. And then another. “Mrs. Dunning, where are you?”
“I’m here,” the woman called out.
Following the widow’s voice, Madeline kept walking, slowly, step by step, Mr. Thompson following on her heels. When the voice seemed to come from directly in front of her, Madeline lowered herself to her knees and crawled onward, her hands reaching out.
A hand suddenly curled around her arm, and Madeline flinched, her heart hammering in her chest. “Is that you?”
“Yes! Please help me. My foot is stuck.”
Feeling her way in the darkness, Madeline followed the widow’s leg until she came upon a ceiling beam which had come down, trapping the woman’s foot. “Mr. Thompson, help me lift this,” she called, reaching out and then guiding his hands toward the rafter.
Together, they counted to three and then put their backs into it as they strained to lift the heavy board. Madeline’s arm ached under the strain, but the wooden beam slowly gave way.
The noise of someone shuffling on the floor reached Madeline’s ears. “I’m free!” the widow called.
Instantly, they released the beam and it crashed back down onto the floor, their breaths coming in strained gasps. As the strain fell from her, Madeline felt her arms begin to tremble and she was strangely reminded of the night Milly had foaled.
“Let’s get out of here,” Mr. Thompson urged them, “before more of the roof comes down.”
Assisting Mrs. Dunning, they made their way back to the window and handed the widow to the waiting neighbours outside. Then Madeline pulled herself up onto the windowsill, a smile coming to her face as her neighbours reached out to help her down. Again, Mr. Thompson followed on her heel.
“Thank you,” Madeline called against the howling wind, looking around the little group. “Thank you for coming.”
Mr. Thompson’s eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the handkerchief wrapped around her arm. “Are ye injured, my lady?”