Heavy rain battered her, plastering her clothing to her body. The water-soaked skirts weighed her down, the cloak was unwieldy, but she struggled to her feet on the side of the coach. Not far away on the bank, one of the drivers lay in the muddy grass. The second driver had reached his side, where he bid Tilly to sit. Both horses were attached to their harnesses, but alive as they stood in the rushing torrent.
When the driver saw her, he hastened down the bank and waded out into the coursing creek, using the coach wheels and under equipage to remain upright. “Let me help you down,” he called up to her. “It’s treacherous, so don’t let go until your feet are firmly planted on the creek bottom.”
“All right.” She dropped to all fours on the side of the coach and slowly crawled to the edge near him. Then she dangled her legs over. The driver lifted an arm. “Should I slide down?”
“Real quick like. I’ll grab onto you.”
With her stomach in knots, Sarah slid off the side of the coach. When she went to grasp the driver’s hand, her frivolous shoes slipped on the rocks and mud, and with a scream, she was torn from his fingers. The current caught at her clothes and shoved her against the underside of the vehicle. She clung to the far wheel as water gushed into her face.
“Hang on, my lady!”
“As if I could do anything else.” I was so terribly wrong! She should have stayed home, should have been grateful for all that she had, regardless that she didn’t have Andrew’s love, and most of all, she should have told him how she felt. Then, her stomach pitched. “My flute. I need to retrieve my flute.” Despite the driver’s warnings, she placed a foot on one of the wheel’s spokes and began to climb.