vision a man’s face close to her own. “No,” she cried.
His hand touched her shoulder. “You took a bad fall.”
She shook her head, trying to identify the voice.
“I will take you home in my buggy.”
Buggy? She blinked, noting his blond hair and blue eyes, which stared questioningly down at her.
“We went to school together. Remember me? Ezra Stoltz?”
Ezra? Not the man in the white car. She breathed out a sigh of relief and raised up on one arm.
The Ezra Stoltz she remembered had been tall and thin and nothing like the broad-shouldered man hovering over her.
He helped her sit up. “Are you dizzy? Does anything hurt?”
Her whole body ached. She touched the tender spot on her forehead.
He leaned closer. “It is a bad cut. You hit one of the rocks as you fell.”
“Did you see what happened?” she asked.
“I saw a man on the side of the road. He tossed your bike down the ravine before he drove away.”
She glanced up the hill. “Where is my bike?”
“I will put it in the buggy, but first, we must tend to your needs.”
Grateful for his help, she tried to find something positive on which to focus. “I am scraped and bruised but not broken.”
“This is something for which we can be thankful.” He smiled, easing a bit of the fear that had tangled along her spine.
Helping her to her feet, he asked, “Are you able to climb the hill?”
“I—I think so.”
“Lean on me,” he suggested.
She had no choice but to accept his help. The incline was steep, and her legs felt like the congealed gelatin she made for her molded salads.
“Oh.” Her knee nearly buckled under her.
“I will carry you.”
Before she could decline his offer, Ezra lifted her effortlessly into his strong arms.
“I am too heavy,” she said, embarrassed by his closeness.
He chuckled. “You are too light. Your mamm must not feed you enough. Hold on, and we will climb this hill together.”
She wrapped her arm around his thick neck and dropped her cheek against his shoulder. Inhaling the masculine scent of him, she questioned her own good sense for allowing a man she barely knew to carry her in his arms.
As Ezra had mentioned, they had been in school together, but he was three years her senior, and she had seen him only a few times after he had completed the eighth level.
Once they reached the roadway, Ezra lifted her into the buggy. “Wait here a moment. Then Bessie and I will take you home.”
Working quickly, he retrieved the bicycle and placed it in the rear of his buggy. “I can fix your bike,” he assured her as he climbed into the seat next to her.
Grateful for his help, she relaxed ever so slightly. He lifted the reins into his hands and encouraged Bessie forward.
Ezra studied the road and then flicked his gaze to her as if to ensure she was all right. “Your mother will be happy when you are home, yah?”
Rosie rubbed her arms and lowered her gaze, thinking of her father’s verbal attack and pointed questions.
“Thank you for your help, Ezra.”
He nodded, perhaps as embarrassed as she was after carrying her in his arms. She brushed the dirt from her skirt and thought of the root cellar where she had been held captive.
She would not go back there. No matter what happened.
The clip-clop of Bessie’s hooves soothed her frayed nerves, and she settled back in the seat, trying to think of what she could tell her parents when they saw the gash on her forehead and her scraped arms and soiled skirt.
Her own clumsiness and being too close to the road’s edge would be truthful. She would not mention the man in the white car. Her mother worried about her well-being. The thought of being run off the road would be too much for Mamm to bear.
Lightning cut across the sky, startling Rosie. Rain pinged against the top of the buggy. The temperature dropped even more, and she shivered in the cold.
Through the steady downpour, she saw the headlights of an approaching vehicle in the distance.
Her heart thumped a warning.
“Do you see the lights?” she asked.
“Yah. You think it could be the man who threw your bike into the ravine?”
“Am I foolish to think he would return?”
“Not if you know the reason he wishes to do you harm.”
Unwilling to share her past with Ezra, she sighed. “I—I am not certain.”
He stared at her for a long moment.
“I was involved with the wrong person,” she finally admitted. “It is too much to tell now, but that might be the reason.”
Ezra flicked the reins and encouraged Bessie to increase her pace, which only troubled Rosie more. Instead of turning around in hopes of eluding the vehicle, Ezra was driving the buggy straight toward the approaching danger.
Fear gripped her anew. “Ezra, stop the buggy so I can run into the woods and hide.”
He ignored her request and hurried the mare even more.
Lightning illuminated the sky and a crash of thunder sounded nearby. Bessie’s ears raised. She snorted, no doubt skittish because of the storm.
“Please, Ezra.” Rosie nudged his arm. “Stop the buggy.”
The car was fast approaching. She could hear the roar of the engine just around the bend and could envision being caught in the oncoming glare of headlights.
She swallowed down the fear that clogged her throat and grabbed Ezra’s hand, trying to make him realize the seriousness of her plight.
He pushed aside her hand.
Her heart crashed. Accepting a ride from Ezra had been a bad decision. The boy she remembered from school was cocky, but always considerate of others.
She raised her voice. “Stop the buggy now, and let me out.”
The glare of headlights preceded the car around the bend. She gasped, fearing the man from town would accost her again. Tears
