La Belle Christiane

By Lyn Cote

All rights reserved.

Chapter Three, Scene 3

September, over three weeks since the massacre. It did not seem possible. Part of Christiane still felt that if she turned around and went back, everyone and everything at Rumsveld would be there as before. But it was a lie. This illusion depressed her and today’s overcast sky did not help her mood. The summer had been unusually warm and dry, punctuated by thunderstorms. This day, however, wanted to be one of those rainy autumn days.

Within an hour after dawn, a dismal drizzle slowly and steadily dampened her, layer by layer, till she was sodden through to the skin. Nancy did not care for walking on the slippery, muddy track beside the river, so Christiane let her take to the grassy border. Jean Claude wailed on and off, rocking in rebellion. His carrier protected him from much of the dampness, but he objected to being confined. Then her spirits soared. She came to the first road sign: New York Ferry 15 Miles. One or two more days and she’d be on the outskirts of her destination.

The bone-chilling drizzle continued and at dusk, she desperately searched for a place to get out of the rain. Finally at dusk, she found a derelict cabin and rested there. She finished the loaf that Tobias had bought them from a farmer’s wife and comforted herself that surely tomorrow she would be with Jakob. After a day of continuous rain and mist, the clouds vanished. And the starry night was truly an autumn one, crisp and clear. Unfortunately the quilt that she’d ridden on all day was sodden. Christiane awakened several times with bouts of shivering.

Late in the morning she awoke. Jean Claude fussed in his carrier. Her face was flushed and warm, her fingers trembled, her limbs were weak, and her hollow stomach was queasy. She knew she needed help, but who would take in an ailing stranger? In growing panic, she packed up and mounted Nancy. Maybe she could reach Jakob before she became any worse.

Back on the road, she passed a sign that should have made her shout with joy. New York Ferry 7 Miles. She was so weak now she merely noted it. Through a blur she saw a white building in the distance. Several times just as she felt herself slipping from the horse’s back, she pulled herself upright. As she finally neared the building, she saw that it did not look like a farmhouse. She could hear voices from inside. She slid off Nancy.

Mounting the few steps with difficulty, she opened one of the large double doors and stepped in. Dozens of eyes turned toward her. “I…I…,” Christiane stammered. She loosened the carrier from her back and set it against the wall. She felt her knees buckling and heard their collective gasp, then nothing.