"I can explain," said Charles, before Anne could say a word. "Miss MacEilan and I were friends back in Ireland. My family recently came over, and it's only a twist of fate that I made it here, Mr.-"
"Von Jorgadde," whispered Anne to Charles.
"It's only a twist of fate that I'm here, Mr. von Jorgadde. Please forgive my rather forward manner with her. I see you are only looking out for my friend, and I thank you."
John was stunned at the calm, collected response from the strange Irishman that had showed up and had been so open towards Anne, but he shook it off. "Are his words the truth, Anne?" he asked her.
"Yes, John," she said meekly. "They are. I promise, there's nothing between the two of us."
"Fine," he said, with a touch of bitterness. "I'll see you another time, then." With that, he clucked to his horses and rode off, down the road, towards his house.
"May I ask who that dashing lad was?" Charles continued to walk.
"He's- oh, I'm not sure how to say this-"
"He's not your fiancé, is he?"
"Of course not!"
"Good." He smiled, just to show that there were no hard feelings, and kept walking forward. "Now, what has happened since last we met?"
It started slowly, her flow of words, but soon they jumbled as they poured from her heart and soul. Anne told Charles everything: about her father's leaving, about the death of her mother and the younger siblings. She told him about the farm and school, about the Jones girls and about Iain and Katherine. They walked slowly, in front of the rest, who walked even more slowly through the grass, savoring the unusually warm day.
They had almost reached home by the time she slowed down. "And John- well, he's been courting me for the past while- a month or so. He's a wonderful young man- very smart, hardworking, and I think he loves me." She said the last part quietly. It felt terribly odd to be telling another man, even a childhood best friend, about a courtship.
"And do you love him?" She couldn't read his face.
"I don't know," she replied truthfully. "Some days he's so hard to understand. He'll be full of smiles, bringing me flowers and complimenting my dress, and then the next moment he'll hardly say a word and he'll be so distant, and it scares me."
She looked ahead, then a movement in the front window of the cottage caught her eye. It was clearly a person, and not a little girl. Fear struck her heart like an icicle- cold, sharp, and sudden.
"Charles," she breathed, coming to a stop and gripping his arm. "There's someone in there. A man."
Charles looked forward and moved forward, his arm sliding from Anne's trembling grasp. "The girls are in there," she whispered. "They could be terribly hurt." Her face was ashen, the blood drained from her cheeks.
Charles moved towards the door, the only way in or out of the house, and yanked it open. "Oi!" he cried. A light fell on the perpetrator.
It was John von Jorgadde, as sure as snow in the winter. He stood next to the chest that held the money that the MacEilans toiled so long for. The three girls lay unconscious on the floor.
"It was you?" cried Anne, regaining her composure after a moment of initial shock. "It was you the whole time?!" She strode over to him, inside the house. He tried to run, but with one lunge, Charles held him fast. Â Tears once again fell from Anne's green eyes, but these were hot, angry tears, boiling with her wrath. "I trusted you! I courted you and let myself think that you truly loved me." She walked over to a struggling John and slapped him, hard, across the face. "Why, John?" she screamed.
"Anne!" Iain and the others had caught up to them, and Iain came running. "Are you alright? What in tarnation is going on?"
Katherine was there too, and though she carried her month- old daughter, Elise, she ran over to the three unconscious girls. She set her baby on the bed and immediately started to revive them. Emma followed her example, while the other women gasped.
"Found him in the house when we approached it," explained Charles, his voice strained with the effort of keeping John contained. Iain pushed the felon against the wall with his arm at John's neck. John spluttered for breath.
"Let me go," he choked. Iain loosed his hold only a tiny bit.
"What were you doing?" hissed Iain. "You've hurt three innocent young girls, stolen our money, and broken into this house multiple times. Do you deny it?"
"I admit to it," he cried. "Now let me go, for Saint Peter's sake, let me go!"
Iain let John go around the throat, but held him firmly by the shirt. "You, sir, are not going anywhere. Didn't your mother tell you that stealing was wrong?" He shook his captive. "Why, you lousy piece of scum?!? WHY?!"
"Iain, please!" cried Katherine. "Calm down a bit, love."
"Of course," Iain apologized to his wife. "Talk, John."
"I did it because I wanted to. Anne, dear, naive little Anne, well, I knew that she'd trust me more if I lent her money after each time it went missing. So she did." He grinned at Anne in a way that made her feel sick. She wanted to throw up. "I figured I could get her to depend on me, and then I'd be able to marry her. She is the prettiest girl in town, after all."
Emma tried not to take offense at his words.
"I needed something good to my name. And besides, our children! With the both of our looks, why, they'd be the envy of all Running Creek."
Anne's breath caught in her throat and she shuddered. "Go," she whispered, terrified. "Get out of my house."
"No, Anne, we need him a little longer!"
"Put him in the barn or something of the sort. I don't want him in my house. I don't want to see his face unless it is in a jail cell."
"You'll come and see me, love?" Iain dragged John towards the barn, and Anne started to cry again.
"I trusted him, Charles."
"I know," he replied.