“Do you think something happened to him on the road?” he asked.
“I’m sure Dierdre and Seamus just needed him tonight,” she said, not at all sure.
“It’s just that it’s not like Dierdre to keep him two nights in a row,” he said. He walked to the front door and looked out at the road. “They know we need him, too.”
Sarah knew he was right. Dierdre would insist that David come home tonight.
“He’s been this late before,” she said.
“No, he hasn’t. Not ever.”
“I’m sure he’s fine.”
“Based on what?”
“John, did you do last check on the animals?”
He turned back to her. “Not yet,” he said.
“Well, why don’t you? I’ll clean up here and we’ll play a game of chess before bed.”
“You’re terrible at chess,” he said, shrugging into his coat.
“Well, you can read a book at the same time,” she said with a grin.
He left the dogs with her. As docile as the puppies were, they were still too undisciplined to be around the horses for long without having to dodge a well-deserved kick.
Sarah now went to the front door herself, as if watching would make David come, then turned and put away the roast chicken and leftover potatoes. Even without electricity, the refrigerator served as a fairly successful icebox, better at least than leaving food sitting out on the counter. They kept milk bottles parked out on the porch all night but meat couldn’t be left out without attracting animals. She wiped down the counters and wrapped the biscuits in wax paper to put them away for their breakfast.
It occurred to her that she had stopped taking her anti-anxiety medicine weeks ago. Funny. She had dreaded the day when she would take her last pill. Probably got more worked up about that than was rational. And then, things got so busy, she actually forgot to take them. She must have a week’s supply left in her suitcase. The real shocker was that, as relentlessly afraid as she was these days—for herself, for her husband and son, and for her parents back in the States—Sarah realized she didn’t feel that different without the pills. The thought stopped her. How could that be? she wondered.
All at once, both dogs stopped playing with the rag they had been tugging on. They stood in the kitchen, the hackles on their backs rising, slow menacing growls emanating from them.
Sarah’s hand froze as she was wrapping the biscuits and stared at the dogs.
In the next second, a horse’s terrified scream punched the air outside the cottage. Sarah dropped the biscuits and bolted for the front door and the source of the noise.
It was coming from the barn.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Three men stood with their backs to her in the courtyard between the house and the barn facing the barn front. One boy, her own child, stood between them and the barn. One of the horses in the barn screamed again. Sarah could barely hear what the men were saying over the pounding in her own ears and the sounds of the horse. As she approached, she saw John’s eyes flick to her and then back at them, but it was enough to alert the men. They turned, almost as one. As soon as they turned, John disappeared into the barn.
She stood with the rifle to her shoulder and aimed at them.
“We’re just hungry, missus,”
Three men, two rounds, she thought. No warning shots.
“Leave us,” she said hoarsely. “Go away.”
They looked like what she would expect men to look like who’d roamed the countryside, slept in ditches and stolen or killed to keep themselves fed. They looked dangerous, desperate and aggressive. Their faces were filthy and bearded, their eyes glazed. One took a step toward her and she shifted her aim toward him.
“Give us the horses and we’ll let you be,” the man behind him said. Sarah dared not take her eyes off the man in her sights. She knew she should be taking the measure of the speaker. Clearly, he was the leader. She felt a tinge of gratitude that John had disappeared.
“You’d better get out of here,” Sarah said, aware that her voice was coming from a place she didn’t recognize.
The speaker laughed. “American?” he said. “I’ve seen the telly. She’s American,” he said to his companions.
Another man laughed. The one who’d stepped forward had not come any closer. He watched her eyes carefully and grinned at her through broken teeth.
Not caring that they could see what she was doing, Sarah dug into her pocket and fished out a third round. Her eyes never left the man in front of her.
“Oh, so you’ll be needing to reload to dispatch the lot, eh?” The speaker laughed and slapped the man next to him. “She’s got two chances then she’s done,” he said. “You take ‘er, I’ll get the boy—”
The words weren’t out of his mouth before Sarah shot him.
He screamed and grabbed his upper arm which instantly mushroomed red.
Sarah recovered quickly from the recoil and turned the gun on the nearest man to her when he suddenly made a strangling noise and pitched forward. When he went down, Sarah saw John standing behind him with a large manure shovel in his hands. She didn’t waste the moment he’d given her. She swiveled the gun barrel to the third man and, without taking her eyes off him, shoved another round into the rifle and slid the action forward. She repeated it with a third round. One man lay stunned at her feet, another stood hopping up and down and cursing while he clutched at his shoulder.
“I got one for each of you now,” she said.
The unharmed man slowly raised his hands in surrender.
Now what?
Sarah took a deep breath and felt the arm that held the gun begin to shake.
John approached with the shovel.
“Keep ‘em covered, Mom,” he said.
Sarah nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She took another deep breath. John turned to look at her and she gave him what she hoped he would interpret as a meaningful look. Then she spoke:
“John, you remember why we had to kill that dog that was savaging our sheep?”
John looked at the men. “It was because we couldn’t trust it wouldn’t return and kill more sheep,” he said.
“Sure, you’re not thinking of killing us in cold blood, missus?” The man with his arms upraised looked from Sarah to the man who was bleeding. “Mack, you hear this maniac?”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Sarah said. “It’s not personal.”
The wounded man looked at Sarah, his face contorted with loathing. “You can’t just shoot us,” he said.
“I’m protecting my family,” Sarah said, feeling stronger every second. “I’ll need you to stand away from the barn a bit. I don’t want to have to drag bodies any further than I need to…”
The stunned man began to stir on the ground.
“You better get your buddy there to connect with the program, Gilligan,” Sarah said, indicating the groaning man on the ground. “He makes me nervous.”
“Michael, wake up. Wake up, you stupid sod!”
“Yeah, Michael, wake up, you stupid sod,” John said, nudging the man with the shovel.
“Language, please, John,” Sarah said.
“We’re begging you, Missus. We never woulda hurt you and the lad. We’re just hungry and—”
“You can’t let ‘em go, Mom,” John said. “Maybe if you kill two of ‘em, the third one will have learned a lesson.”
Shrieks of horror burst from two of the men. The one John had crowned with the manure shovel howled the loudest. The wounded leader stared at her with an intense expression.
“That is a good idea, John,” Sarah said, wondering from where he got his acting talent. “But which ones?” She pointed with the rifle barrel at the one in the dirt.