Mrs. Poole came out to meet them. After exchanging greetings, they explained their quest, which unsurprisingly gained Mrs. Poole’s enthusiastic backing. “I’d almost forgotten about that!” she exclaimed. “One does grow so accustomed to making do.”
They discussed the likely construction—stone walls, with a solid timber floor and a good slate roof—then spent some time assessing the space required. In the end, at Gregory’s suggestion, they went into the existing building and measured up the space currently given over to storage—crammed storage at that—and tripled it.
Mrs. Poole nodded. “That should give us ample for now as well as room to grow.”
They emerged from the building, and Gregory waved toward the cider mill downstream. “As the storehouse is to serve the Osiery and the cider mill, I assume the best place to build it will lie somewhere between.”
Mrs. Poole gestured toward the mill. “There’s a spot the Edgars and I looked at when we first proposed the storehouse. I can show you if you’d like?”
Caitlin and Gregory readily agreed, and after Mrs. Poole stepped back into the Osiery to let Hattie know she was heading down the path, the three of them set out.
Immediately beyond the Osiery, the path angled to more closely follow the rushing river toward the cider mill and the leatherworks beyond.
They’d just reached the river’s edge when a great cry rang out, followed by a distant splash.
They all spun toward the sound, which had come from the other side of the Osiery.
“Oh my God!” Mrs. Poole paled and clapped her hands to her cheeks. “William!”
They all rushed to the edge of the sharply cut bank and peered upstream, toward the osier beds.
“There!” Caitlin pointed to a bobbing dark head and flailing arms.
“He can’t swim strongly!” Mrs. Poole wailed. “He’s going to drown!”
Gregory cursed and shrugged out of his overcoat, coat, and waistcoat. He thrust the garments at Caitlin, then unwound the muffler from about his neck and gave that to her as well. He didn’t have time to take off his boots. He only had a minute to get out in the water if he was to have any hope of intercepting the panicking lad.
He went quickly down the crumbling bank, half sliding as the soft earth gave beneath his weight. Gritting his teeth against the icy coldness, he strode into the rushing water, wary as his boots slipped on the stones lining the riverbed. He locked his gaze on William’s head, gauged the power of the water rushing past, then hauled in a breath and plunged into the torrent.
Ignoring the shock of the icy water’s embrace, he struck out on a course across the river, angling to intersect William’s as the lad was swept downstream.
Although the river was running high, it wasn’t outright raging. He was strong enough to battle against the current, pausing now and again to track William.
He realized the lad had caught and was clinging to a broken branch, but both remained trapped in the center of the river, where the current was strongest.
Gregory tacked to where he thought the river would bring William.
Yes, there!
He lunged, and his hand hit the end of the branch. He gripped it and surfaced, then shook his hair from his eyes and, along the sodden limb, met William’s terrified gaze. “Can you hang on while I drag you to shore?”
“Y-Y-Yes!” William nodded frantically.
“All right.” Gregory took stock, then swam around so that he could steer with one arm while dragging the branch behind him. “Just hold on with both hands. Don’t try to swim—just use your legs to keep afloat.”
Teeth chattering, William nodded.
Gregory started dragging the branch, the lad, and himself toward the shore. Making headway proved more difficult than he’d expected. He was a strong swimmer, but the icy current sapped his energy.
He made inching progress, battling to edge across while simultaneously keeping the current from sweeping them too far and too fast downstream. He started to worry that William, who had to be frozen and who’d ceased even his weak kicking, would lose his grip on the branch. If that happened…
Clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering, Gregory pushed on.
Finally, he got them out of the swiftly running central current, and the drag on his limbs lessened. The cold, however, intensified until the resulting ache seeped into his bones.
He was yards from shore and starting to flag when he heard Caitlin call his name, then a rope slapped into the water just short of his face. He grabbed it and, with a few quick circles of his free arm, wound the rope securely about that forearm, and gripped it tightly.
“Hold on!” Caitlin yelled.
