Serafina and the Black Cloak - Robert Beatty Page 0,38
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“Over here! I found the carriage!” a man shouted as he climbed through the branches of the tree that had fallen across the road. Several carriages and a dozen men on horseback had come from Biltmore in search of Braeden. As the gang of men went to work with great two-man saws and lumber axes to hack away the tree, Mr. Vanderbilt climbed his way through the branches, crossed over the fallen trunk, and hurried toward Braeden.
“Thank God you’re safe,” he said, his voice filled with emotion as they embraced.
Braeden was obviously glad and relieved to see his uncle. “Thank you for coming for me.”
As they separated, Braeden pressed back his sleep-ruffled hair with his hands and scanned the trees. Then he looked toward the carriages and rescuers.
She knew he was looking for her, but she had hidden herself like a creature in the woods. She felt like a wild animal there, beneath the leaves of the rhododendrons and the mountain laurel. The forest wasn’t something she feared, like she had the night before. It was her concealment, her protector.
“Tell me what happened, Braeden,” Mr. Vanderbilt said, seeming to sense Braeden’s anxiety.
“We were attacked in the night,” Braeden said, his voice ragged and his face splotchy with emotion. “Nolan was taken. He’s gone. Mr. Crankshod disappeared right when the battle started, and hasn’t shown up since.”
Mr. Vanderbilt frowned in confusion. He put his hand on Braeden’s shoulder and turned him toward the gang of workers cutting through the tree and clearing the road. In addition to the servants, Serafina recognized a dozen other men from the house, including Mr. Bendel, Mr. Thorne, and Mr. Brahms. She let out a small gasp. There was Mr. Crankshod, working among them.
“Mr. Crankshod said a group of bandits attacked,” Mr. Vanderbilt said. “He fended them off, but when he attempted to pursue them, he became separated from the carriage and decided it was best to head back to Biltmore as fast as possible to fetch help. I was furious he’d left you, but in the end, he was the one who led us here to you, so maybe he was right to do what he did.”
Serafina saw Braeden look at Mr. Crankshod in surprise. The ugly man looked right back at him, his eyes betraying nothing.
“I’m not sure it was bandits, Uncle,” Braeden said uncertainly. “I only saw one attacker. A man in a black cloak. He took Nolan. I’ve never seen anything like it. Nolan just vanished.”
“We’ll send a mounted search party up and down this road until we find the boy,” Mr. Vanderbilt said, “but in the meantime, I want to get you back to the house.”
As Braeden and Mr. Vanderbilt spoke, Serafina watched Mr. Crankshod. She wondered what the old rat was up to. Something wasn’t right with him. He hadn’t fought any bandits. He had simply disappeared. And now here he was again with a crooked tale of his own heroism.
The only good news was that it seemed like he hadn’t spilled the grits about her existence to Mr. Vanderbilt. Was Crankshod a hero? A villain? Or was he nothing more than a common rat-faced coward? She looked around at Mr. Vanderbilt, Mr. Crankshod, and the other men. She was beginning to see how difficult it was to determine who was good and who was bad, who she could trust and who she had to watch out for. Every person was a hero in his own mind, fighting for what he thought was right, or just fighting to survive another day, but no one thought they were evil.
Gidean wasn’t so forgiving. He charged toward Mr. Crankshod right away and started barking and snarling at him. Maybe dogs really can smell fear, Serafina thought. Or at least cowardliness…It didn’t look like Gidean was actually going to bite Mr. Crankshod, but he wasn’t going to let him off without a good barking-to. The other men watched in amusement, but Mr. Crankshod was none too pleased by the dog’s attention.
“Oh, shut up, you stupid mutt!” Mr. Crankshod shouted, and raised his arms to strike the dog with his ax.
Braeden and Serafina were too far away to help, but Mr. Thorne clamped his hand onto Mr. Crankshod’s arm and stopped him mid-blow. “Don’t be a fool, Crankshod.”
“Aw, what the…Just keep that mangy cur away from me,” Mr. Crankshod grumbled and stomped away.
Braeden ran over to Gidean and Mr. Thorne. “Oh, thank you, sir, thank you so much.”