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Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Allie stepped outside into the sunshine and let it shine on her face a moment. The weather was warmer each day and it felt good to be outside after spending the first half of the day polishing silver in the kitchen.

Then Allie thought of Michael and remembered him whispering this morning about how he had no idea what the sunshine felt like and her good mood disappeared. She had been spending nearly every night with him for nearly a week and was no closer to knowing who he was or how he had ended up in that attic. Whenever she asked he merely said it wasn't important and that he was there because he scared people.

Scared people? Compared to his captors Michael was an angel--compared to anyone Allie knew the man was an angel. She wanted nothing more than to help him.

Allie stretched out her aching shoulders. She was happy to have a bit of a break from the chores though she wished it was a long enough break that she could sneak up to Michael. Mrs. Treadwell's work lists for her had been getting shorter lately and Allie guessed that was a sign that she had passed the initiation phase of her hiring. Just now Mrs. Treadwell was in her sewing room, Mr. Treadwell was in his office, Peter and Jacob were somewhere playing in the house and Theodore was.... Well Allie didn't know exactly but at least that meant he wasn't sniffing around her skirt tails the way he had been all week. With the family otherwise occupied it meant she had time to relax for a moment.

"Hello, Allie." Frank, the ranch hand who had first brought Allie and Amelia out to the ranch several weeks ago greeted her as he walked past the porch.

An idea suddenly came to her and Allie smiled brightly, "Frank, can we speak for a moment?"

Frank spared a glance at the house, "If Mrs. Treadwell catches us yakking instead of working she'll be mighty angry," he warned.

"She's locked up in her sewing room with a bottle of brandy," Allie waved her hand. It seemed the woman spent at least a few hours a day locked up with whichever liquor had seemed most appealing that day. "She has no idea that the world is still spinning just now."

Frank chuckled and pulled off his hat, "I can't stop for long but you've bought yourself a few minutes. What were you wanting to talk about then?"

"Not so much something but someone," Allie stepped off the porch and led Frank a few feet away just in case anyone should happen near the door. She didn't want them being overheard. "Who is Michael?"

Franks face instantly paled. He swallowed hard and wrung his hat in his hands as his frantic eyes shifted up to the house and then back to her, "You shouldn't be saying that name, Allie. The lady of the house doesn't take too kindly to hearing that name spoken."

Allie wrapped her arms around herself and shrugged, "Who is he?"

"Was he, Allie. Michael ain't around any more."

"Yes he is!" Amelia's voice chimed in and Allie turned to see her sister coming off the porch toward them.

Frank seemed confused, "I think you girls are mistaken. Now Michael has been dead and gone a long time and if you need proof then just head up that hill there to the family cemetery. You keep saying that name you're gonna get yourselves in trouble. Now I don't want no more part in this because I need to keep this damn job. Good day to you both."

With that Frank fled toward the barn earning him odd looks from several other hands that had seen the exchange, "What in the world is the matter with him?" Amelia snorted.

Allie looked up the hill to the graves under a large sycamore. She hadn't gone up there since coming to this house so she had no idea whose graves those were, "Have you been to see him today?" she asked her sister.