A Changing Light by Edith Maxwell (feel good books to read txt) 📕

railroad bridge over the mighty Merrimack River. I held on tight. The chain across the openings on both sides was the only barrier between me and the tracks along which we raced.

I opened the door to the second car to repeat my slow stroll. Instead I was met face-to-face with Luthera herself. Glowering, she stepped toward me, forcing me back onto the iron plates. The door closed behind her.

“You’re in my way, nosy midwife,” she growled.

I swallowed and stood my ground. “Please excuse me, Luthera. I’m looking for a friend.”

Her nostrils flared. “No, you aren’t. You’re looking for me. You and the bumbling police chief.” She clasped my forearm with her left hand and pressed a gun into my neck with her right. “I’m finished with the both of you.”

Chapter Forty-two

The steel of the barrel pressed cold into my skin. My heart thudded. My brain raced. I would not let her kill me. Nor my baby. I swallowed down my nerves.

“It would be a grave mistake to shoot me.” I gazed at her steely expression, her icy eyes. She had brought two guns to Amesbury? Probably. Kevin had said she was a sharpshooter. She might have even more with her. “There’s no escape for thee if thee kills again.”

She barked out a harsh laugh. “There’s also no escape for me if I don’t. I know you’ve been assisting the police.” Her tone was deadly above the racket. Between the iron grip on my arm and the pressure of the gun, she forced me to take a step closer to the opening. Did she mean to end her own life at the same time?

When I glimpsed the water far below, my throat tightened. My legs trembled. It would be bad enough to be forced out onto the ground rushing beneath. Into deep water rushing out to sea? I wouldn’t have a chance.

“They know I shot Justice,” Luthera said. “What a name, eh?”

I opened my mouth to reply but shut it. Better to let her talk. The more time I could gain, the sooner Kevin would be here. I normally preferred to be self-reliant, to save myself. Right now? My baby and I would take all the help we could get.

“My husband treated me like every other man in my life has,” she went on with downturned mouth. “Telling me what to do. Bullying me in the guise of acting as my protector. Going behind my back to talk with that foolish man about his foolish plan.”

“Ned Bailey’s horseless carriages?”

“Yes. It’s a ridiculous idea,” she spat. “Montgomery Carriage is mine to do with as I wish. Not my husband’s.”

“I’m sorry thee hasn’t been treated well.” And I was. I was more sorry Kevin hadn’t gotten here yet.

“My own father could teach a course in how to be a bully. Or could have. He’s dead now,” she crowed.

“That sounds like a painful upbringing.” I thought she lessened the pressure on my neck a little. Maybe in her musings she’d forgotten her plan to push me into the river below. “Thy mother didn’t shield thee from his treatment?”

“Mother? She was cowed and weak. And then she died giving birth to my baby brother. He died, too, and I became Father’s heir apparent. Up until last year he still tried to run roughshod over me. I wasn’t having it, Mrs. Dodge.”

Had she killed her father, as well? It wouldn’t surprise me, not with what I now saw of her.

Behind her, the door opened inch by inch. Kevin. I forced my gaze onto my attacker. I couldn’t let on to Luthera that my rescue had arrived. Except in the periphery I spied not a serge uniform but a woman’s bowler, decorated with a blue ribbon, atop still-blond hair.

The good doctor—Mary Chatigny—held a finger to her lips.

I mustered a response to Luthera. “Thee was right and brave to stand up to thy father.”

Mary let the door slide shut. If it clicked, the noise of the wheels on the tracks concealed the sound.

“Of course I was.” Luthera pulled the gun away from my neck and gestured her righteousness.

That was all Mary and I needed. From behind, Mary grabbed the wrist of Luthera’s gun-holding hand and held tight. I raised my fist and socked the Canadian in the nose. She cried out, crumpling to the floor even as Mary twisted her forearm up. The gun fired into the open air beyond as it clattered down. It kept going through a gap in the plates, on to the river below.

“Nice work, Doctor,” I said to Mary before sucking on my bruised, bloody knuckles. I’d never hit anyone before. Violence was counter to all the teachings of Friends. I thought God might forgive me, just this once, in the interests of preventing further violent acts.

“Nice work, Midwife.” Mary grinned at me even as she kept her iron grip on the whimpering Luthera’s wrist.

Our captive took the opportunity to kick out at my ankle. I stepped back in the nick of time.

Kevin pulled open the door behind Mary. “Miss Rose, I—” He stopped abruptly, taking in the scene.

The nature of the clatter changed as we exited the bridge and returned to tracks laid over dry land. From the first car, the conductor called out, “Next stop, Newburyport. Newburyport, next stop.” He pulled open the door behind me. A gasp was all I heard.

“Mrs. Dodge and I have things under control, gentlemen.” Mary stared pointedly at the slender wrist in her grip. “Chief Donovan, care to take over here?”

Chapter Forty-three

Kevin gripped the elbow of a handcuffed Luthera. We three alit at the Newburyport train depot, the first to descend as we were already between cars. I’d thanked Mary heartily and wished her a peaceful conference before stepping down with the help of the conductor. The doctor would continue on this train south. Blessedly the rain had ceased, but a stiff wind had blown it out to sea, and I shivered.

Rather than snarl and fight, Luthera had gone as icy as her eyes. “I