The intruder glanced down at the child.
"Funny thing about children. People get awfully attached to stories."
The girl began crying harder.
"Please."
The man ignored her.
He looked at William.
"Your wife never told you everything."
William's face tightened.
"My wife died seven years ago."
The intruder smiled.
"Did she?"
My blood turned cold.
William took one step forward.
The revolver rose again.
"Careful."
The little girl covered her face.
Then whispered something I almost didn't hear.
"She's alive."
William froze.
I stared at the child.
The intruder's smile vanished.
"Quiet."
But she looked toward her father.
"Papa, Mama's alive."
William's expression collapsed.
For years, he had believed his first wife and daughter died during a winter flood.
Now the child he thought buried was standing in front of him.
And she was claiming the woman he had mourned was alive too.
I could barely breathe.
The intruder turned angrily toward the girl.
"I told you to keep your mouth shut."
She shrank backward.
And that was when I moved.
Not toward the gun.
Toward the stove.
The large iron lid was still resting beside the pot.
The man had turned his attention toward the child.
His revolver lowered slightly.
I grabbed the wooden bowl William had used earlier.
Then threw it hard toward the far side of the kitchen.
It struck the wall and shattered.
The sudden noise startled the intruder.
His head snapped toward it.
William moved immediately.
He grabbed the man's gun wrist and forced it upward, away from us.
A shot exploded into the ceiling.
The little girl screamed.
I ducked.
William drove the armed man's hand against a heavy wooden post.
The revolver fell.
It slid across the floor.
I kicked it beneath the enormous kitchen cabinet.
The intruder shoved William backward.
William struck the table.
The man lunged toward the door.
But William caught his coat.
They collided with the wall.
The intruder swung wildly.
His fist struck William's shoulder.
William drove him backward and forced him to the floor.
"Stay down!"
The man's wounded leg buckled.
He cried out.
William pinned his arms.
Then looked toward me.
"Rose! Rope!"
I grabbed a coil hanging near the woodbox.
My hands shook.
But I carried it to him.
Together, we secured the intruder's wrists.
He continued cursing.
Threatening.
Promising that people would come looking for him.
William ignored him.
The little girl stood beside the stove, trembling.
I approached slowly.
"Sweetheart?"
She looked at me.
Her eyes were enormous.
I knelt carefully.
"My name is Rose."
She stared.
I smiled gently.
"Are you hungry?"