Hattie ran into the room and dropped to her knees beside Savannah. Tears pooled in Hattieâs eyes. She ran her fingers through Calicoâs thick fur.
âOh, miss!â she cried. âHeâs not dead. I can feel him breathing.â
Savannah sighed with relief. âThank goodness. Letâs take him to the kitchen. It will be warmer in there.â She cradled Calico next to her chest and hurried into the kitchen. Hattie stayed beside her, crooning to her cat.
Savannah glanced around the kitchen. A large cast iron cookstove dominated one side of the room. A wood box sat beside it.
âHattie, take the wood out of the wood box andweâll use that as a bed for Calico,â Savannah suggested.
âYes, miss,â Hattie said. She hurried to the wood box and began piling the wood onto the floor.
âYou can call me Savannah,â Savannah told Hattie as she knelt beside the box.
âOh, no, miss. That wouldnât be proper.â Hattie went to the pantry and came back with some old blankets. She stuffed them into the box.
Savannah placed Calico on the blankets. Hattie covered him up with one corner. âI wonder how he got sick,â Hattie said.
Savannah shook her head. âI donât know. I fed him a bit of sausageââ She stopped. Could the sausage have been spoiled? she wondered.
She placed her hand on Hattieâs shoulder. âWhy donât you stay with Calico for a while?â
Hattie smiled. âThank you, miss.â
Savannah stood and walked back into the dining room. She stopped short at the sight of Tyler angrily questioning Mrs. Mooreland.
Victoria hurried over to Savannah and clutched her arm. âNow you see why we cannot stay here,â Victoria whispered. âSomeone tried to poison you!â
â¦Â â¦Â â¦
A few nights later Savannah stood before her window and stared down into the rose garden. The moonlight glinted on the black roses.
Savannahâs stomach rumbled. She had eaten very little since Calico became ill. Mrs. Mooreland insisted that the sausage had simply gone bad. Tyler believed her.
Savannah wasnât so sure. Calico was still weak, stilllying in a box in the kitchen. Could bad sausage have made him that sick?
Is Victoria right? she wondered. Did someone try to poison me?
She pulled the drapes closed and climbed into bed. She closed her eyes. Faces circled through her mind.
Lucyâs pale, innocent face. Mrs. Moorelandâs stern face. Victoriaâs frightened face.
Did one of them try to kill me? she wondered.
Chapter
22
S avannah kicked off her blankets.
So warm. Too warm.
This house is never hot, she thought foggily. Still half asleep. Never.
She forced her eyes openâand screamed.
Bright orange flames devoured the curtains on her window.
Smoke surrounded Savannah. It filled her nose and mouth. She tried to scream again, but she could only gasp. Gasp for help. Gasp for air.
The thick gray smoke burned her eyes.
Savannah scrambled out of bed and fell to her knees, coughing and gagging. Tears streamed down her face.
The fire roared as the flames climbed up the thick drapes.
Frantically Savannah pulled herself up. Shegrabbed her comforter. She could use it to beat out the fire.
One end caught on the bed frame. Savannah gave the comforter a hard tug. It ripped freeâand she stumbled backward. Into the flaming curtains.
The sleeve of her nightgown caught fire.
Savannah released another hoarse scream. The door to her room burst open. Victoria rushed in. She shoved Savannah onto the bed and smothered the fire on her sleeve.
âGrab a pillow!â Savannah cried. âWe have to stop the fire from spreading.â
Together the sisters attacked the fiery flames consuming the drapes. Savannah felt her throat tighten. Her arms grew weak, but she didnât stop until the fire was out.
Then she reached past the charred drapes and opened her window. She took a deep breath