Free Tempted by Molly O'Keefe Page B

the trigger.

 
    Chapter 7
     
    T he gunshot split the world in half.
    Every man and woman in that hallway stood paralyzed—silent—for one second, their ears ringing, their noses twitching from the gunpowder.
    She’s dead
.
    Steven was sure of it.
    And then the moment was over and Steven grabbed the doorknob and put his shoulder against the wooden door. He bashed against it with his body, over and over again. He felt someone behind him, Delilah, doing the same, adding her weight to his efforts, and finally the wood splintered. The lock busted and he fell into the room.
    There’s so much blood
. That was all he could think. There was so much blood.
    The two women on the bed were covered in it. One of them was dead. Had to be dead.
    That blood...
    “Anne,” he whispered and ran across the room. Anne was lying across Stella as if to protect her. His heartbeat stopped pounding in his ears for just a moment and he finally could hear Stella crying. He put his hands on Anne’s shoulders as carefully as he could in case she was injured, and he eased her away from the crying girl, back onto the bed. Her face was full of gore, her glasses covered. Totally obscured.
    “I…I can’t hear anything,” she cried.
    She was shaking in his hands.
    Alive! She’s shaking because she’s alive. Not dead
.
    Relief turned his knees to water and he collapsed on the edge of the bed.
    “I can’t see anything!” she yelled.
    “Shhhhh,” he whispered and took her glasses from her face, wiped off the blood and returned them, smeared and smudged, back to her nose. Her brown eyes, wide and frantic, stared up at him.
    “Are you hurt?” he cried. “Did he hurt you?” He ran his hands down her arms, but she shook away from his touch.
    “Sam?” she yelled. He remembered this battle deafness from the muskets and cannons and screaming of the war. He’d learned to shove cotton in his ears, not that it helped much. And it wouldn’t have helped Annie—she’d had a Remington fired what looked like inches from her face.
    Steven glanced over the other side of the bed and saw what was left of Sam. He’d blown most of his head off.
    “He’s gone.” He shook his head so she understood without being able to hear him. She turned as if to see for herself, but he grabbed her shoulders and stopped her. “Don’t,” he said. “Don’t look.”
    Stella, beside him on the bed, was curled into a ball, crying into her fists.
    Delilah stepped into the doorway, the feathers in her hair drooping. She was pale inside that elegant dress.
    “Get Stella out of here,” he told Delilah. “And don’t let Tell in here.”
    But it was too late—Tell was already in. His hat in his hand, his coat hanging off his shoulders. He looked barely fifteen.
    Just another young boy forced into manhood.
    The war will not end. Not ever.
    “It’s okay,” Tell said, wiping a shaking hand across his mouth. “I’ll take care of my brother.” He walked around the foot of the bed and saw his brother’s body and didn’t even flinch. His lips went tight for a moment, but that was all. “I knew it was going to end like this,” he said. “Sooner or later someone was going to shoot him. I just never figured it would be himself.”
    Annie lifted her hands to her face, but stopped when she saw the blood there. And on her dress. She touched her face, and her fingers came away slick and red.
    Her breath began to pant in her chest, and he saw hysteria enter her blood-soaked features.
Time to go.
    She began to paw at her dress. “I need…I need to change. I need—” Annie began to struggle away from him, as if she would stand. “I need to g...go,” she said. “I need to take a b...bath.” Her voice was shaking, the stammer she worked so hard to control back.
    She kicked her skirts out, trying to get off the bed, and he stood and helped her to her feet. She took one shaky step and her legs buckled. Steven was there to lift her in his arms.
    He swallowed down the