Baby

toward the door.
    “Mr. Doyle?” Netty’s saliva stuck thickly in her throat.
    “Yes, he is a great benefactor to the church. I thought it best to turn this delicate matter over to him. He usually rewards the church well for the efforts I make managing the congregation. You understand what I mean?” Netty tried to break Reverend Penny’s iron grip on her hand.
    “Now … Mrs. Doyle. Why don’t you show me what a lady you are and come along?” The reverend started to sound exasperated. He snaked both of his arms around her as he relentlessly duck walked her to the door. Netty suddenly dropped to the ground, releasing his grip on her. She slipped out from under his arms, grabbed the gold coin and just ran.
    Netty’s breath came in gasps as she jumped into her wagon and took off out of town. Robert is here. What will they do to her? Could they still arrest her? Like Wil? Oh my Lord, what had they done to him? She refused to believe he was dead until she saw for herself. She better plan to hide out somewhere, first.
    She must get home quickly. Baby waited there. She could not run without him. Frantically, she wondered where they could hide. Nothing came to mind. Pitifully, the tears streamed down her face again; her mind so full of panic over Wil and Baby that her adrenalin almost incapacitated her. She drove the horse faster, bumping dangerously over the rutted road.
    Netty finally made it to the cabin. She planned to pack food and clothes in the wagon, grabbing her Winchester and Baby last. She pulled the wagon right up to the stoop. Banging on the door, she screamed for Baby. As she slipped through the door she turned to close it, glancing toward the barn. She almost fainted at the sight of a dozen men streaming out of the barn toward the cabin. Among them she saw, none other than Robert, Eli, the sheriff, Mr. Simpson and the other thugs that worked for Robert.
    She quickly locked the door, grabbing her Winchester. Her mind felt pressure, frantic colors swirling wildly in her mind.
    “Sister, trouble comes.”
    “Yes Baby, we are trapped.”
    “Where is Brother, he will save us?” Netty choked back a sob, her trembling hands running spastically through her hair at her temples.
    “No Baby, we must save ourselves.” Dashing into the bedroom, Netty spotted the window. She grasped at an idea. Instructing Baby to burrow under her clothes in the hope chest, she closed it tight. Shoving Robert’s gold coin down her pocket, she ran to the window and clambered out. She knew they would realize what she had done but at least it would decoy them away from Baby. Running toward the woods behind the cabin, she prayed to God to grant her enough strength to elude them long enough to get safely to her granite rock. The cavern beckoned; a perfect sanctuary. She knew if she carried Baby with her, she ran the risk of slowing herself down, exposing them to capture. Now, if they did catch her, at least Baby would be safe. After waiting them out, sneaking back to the cabin to collect Baby would solve everything for now. They could hide out at the cavern until she came up with a better plan. Actually, maybe hiding there indefinably might work out. She did not eat much anymore and Baby didn’t eat food anyway. Water was a small necessity she wanted to worry about later.
    Netty made it to the wood line without being seen. She heard shouts coming from the direction of the cabin. They must have searched her bedroom by now and found the open window. She hoped to have a little more time. Plunging through bramble bushes, she felt them tear her skin. By the time she glanced down to her arms the scratches disappeared. Wow, she did not even need Baby to heal her now? Hope sprang up, lodged firmly in her throat as she ran on.
    Trees whipped past, their swaying branches witness to her stumbling, her frantic wits trying desperately to hold her together. Sounds of shouting filtered through the woods like dappled sunlight through the trees. They sounded like they might be gaining on her. She tried to pick up her pace. Rounding a corner without watching her footing, she tripped on a rock and down she went, losing her grip on her Winchester. Damn . Where is the darn thing ? Netty spotted it, victim to her untimely fall, lodged between two rocks. Tugging on it ineffectively, she found her strength deserting her. Precious time lost. Making the decision to leave it behind, she ran on. Her pace slowed as she located the pathway that ran along