He blinked water from his lashes and looked toward the bank to see Caitlin, Mrs. Poole, and Hattie all grimly anchored one behind the other. They started hauling on the rope.
The rope went taut, then drew him—and the branch and William—slowly but steadily through the water.
Relief flooded him, but did nothing to counteract the cold.
Foot by foot, the women dragged them closer to the bank. Gregory kicked to help them, but it was a weak effort. He looked at William. The lad was done in, but had kept his arms wrapped stubbornly around the branch. “Keep holding on,” Gregory encouraged. “We’re nearly there.”
He looked back to gauge the distance they still had to go and realized he could stand. Relief surged anew, and he put his foot down—only to have the stone he’d thought was on the riverbed roll away.
His boot plunged down into a hole, and suddenly, he was underwater.
He tried to kick upward, only to discover the boot was jammed in a tangle of roots and sodden wood.
Holding his breath, he fought to free his foot, but the boots were too well made; there was no chance of slipping his foot free.
His lungs started to tighten, the urge to breathe building.
He couldn’t free the arm trapped in the rope, which the women, not knowing what was happening, were holding taut and lightly tugging, and he couldn’t let go of the branch—and William—and use his other hand, either.
For one instant, panic—real fear for his life—gripped him.
No! I’ve far too much to live for.
Eyes closed, lungs burning, chilled to the bone, he pulled back on the rope and, using that tension for leverage, made one last, massive effort to wrench his boot free.
The roots holding it gave. The boot slid free, and he surfaced on a massive gasp.
“Oh, thank God! Thank God!”
The chorus in three voices fell on his ears, then Caitlin, firm and decisive, called, “Just hold on, and we’ll pull you in. Just concentrate on holding on!”
It was an order, and in truth, with his strength exhausted, holding on was all he could do.
Chapter 8
Grimly determined, working hand over hand, with Mrs. Poole and Hattie, Caitlin strove to pull the men to shore.
The river seemed reluctant to let its captives go, but although their arms burned and their backs ached, neither she nor the other women were about to surrender their precious cargo.
Finally—finally!—Gregory staggered onto the lower level of the bank. This wasn’t the spot where he’d gone in but farther downstream, where the bank was more stable, and below its lip, a narrow arc of earth formed a cove.
Before he could collapse on the wet ground, Caitlin dropped the rope and leapt down. She managed to duck her shoulder under his and balance his weight while Mrs. Poole and Hattie, who had followed her lead in jumping down, dragged William from the water.
Gregory swayed, and Caitlin wrapped her arms around him and hugged tight. “Are you all right?” A necessary if stupid question.
He looked down at his boots as if surprised to see them at the ends of his legs. “My legs feel like jelly.”
She nodded briskly. “You’re exhausted.” So was she, and she hadn’t even gone into the water. Her heart was still racing and pounding. “Here.” She steered him to the corner of the small cove where tumbled rocks would serve as steps. “We need to return to the Pooles’ and get you warm and dry.”
He made an indistinct sound, then weakly sighed, “Warm and dry sounds heavenly.”
She glanced back, confirming that William was safely in the hands of his mother, who was ordering Hattie to run back to the house and bring blankets. Hattie promptly leapt up to the bank and ran off.
Caitlin faced forward and put her mind to carefully maneuvering a man who was significantly larger and weighed a great deal more than she did, but whose legs were decidedly wobbly, over the stones and up to the bank.
It was another trial, but together, they conquered it.
At Gregory’s suggestion, she left him propped against a nearby tree and went to help Lucinda with William. In the end, Caitlin grasped William’s wrists and pulled while Lucinda pushed from behind in order to get William—who was close to collapse—up to the bank.
