Should've Kept Quiet - Chapter 28

Gerhard didn’t answer right away. He looked toward Johann, his mouth drawn tight. Jakob confirmed Gerhard’s worst fear—the horse had been found wandering near the village.

Johann didn’t move. His fingers gripped the edge of the open door, though he no longer felt the wood.

“Stay with him,” Gerhard said finally, quiet but firm. He followed Jakob down the porch, out of earshot.

Johann swallowed hard as he looked through the doorway toward Heinrich—still unconscious. Max lay beside him, tail twitching once in his sleep, as though in response to some dream.

He shut the door with a dull thud, then leaned against it. The house was dim, the small window letting in only a slant of gray light. The fire had burned low, casting pale orange flickers across the floor.

Johann crossed the room in two strides and crouched beside him. “Someone found your horse,” he whispered, unsure why he was saying it aloud. “They’re asking questions.”

Max stirred near the bed but didn’t lift his head. Johann pressed a hand to Heinrich’s forehead. Too hot. His stomach twisted.

“We should have waited,” he muttered. “One more night. Too bad about that broken window.”

He stared at the floor for a moment before standing too quickly. The room swayed. He stepped to the door and cracked it open just enough to catch the murmur of voices outside.

Johann hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “The storm might’ve been the only reason we got out unseen.”

He let out a soft breath, eyes shifting toward the window. “I just hope we didn’t bring the storm with us,” he said, as much to himself as to the man on the bed.

Heinrich stirred. At first, Johann thought nothing of it—until he heard the rasp of uneven breathing—low and fast. Lifting the blanket, he saw the poultice had soaked through the bandages. Sweat beaded on Heinrich’s face, and his mouth worked soundlessly before a single word slipped free.

“Elise…”

Johann froze, then stepped closer.

“Heinrich?” he whispered, but the man didn’t answer. His head rolled weakly to one side.

“Said I’d hang…” Heinrich mumbled, his voice barely a whisper. He began muttering in a language Johann didn’t recognize—Polish, maybe, or just nonsense.

Johann’s chest tightened as he glanced toward the door. Gerhard and Jakob were still talking outside.

Heinrich shifted again, half-lost in fever.

“Elise…tell her…” His voice faltered as he shook his head from side to side. “Run…”

Johann didn’t wait. He pulled the door open, and the chill air rushed in.

Gerhard turned at once. Jakob stood beside him, pipe in hand, eyes narrowed.

“It’s worse,” Johann said. “He’s burning up. Talking nonsense—he said a name. He’s not right.”

Gerhard was already moving, brushing past Johann and stepping into the house with purposeful strides. Jakob hesitated only a second before following, pipe clenched between his teeth, boots thudding softly on the worn porch.

The heat of the room struck them as they entered. Heinrich lay sprawled on the bed, the blanket tangled around him. His face was flushed, lips moving in a whisper too faint to catch.

Gerhard dropped to one knee and peeled the cloth back from Heinrich’s leg. The soaked bandages clung to the wound, already drying at the edges. “Should’ve changed it sooner,” he muttered.

“His skin’s on fire,” Johann said. “He said…he said her name. Elise.”

Jakob shot him a look, sharp and brief. “That the girl?”

Johann hesitated. “I think so.”

Jakob turned toward the basin, but paused when Heinrich stirred again.

Heinrich mumbled incoherently, his voice lost in the haze of fever.

Jakob’s eyes flicked to Johann. The pipe dipped slightly in his mouth, but he didn’t speak.

Johann met his gaze, then looked away.

Gerhard worked in silence, his brow furrowed. Jakob returned with water and cloth, setting them down hard enough to slosh a little. Johann stayed close, watching the color in Heinrich’s face change from flushed to ashen.

Heinrich let out a thin, hoarse cry. His body jerked once, weakly, as Gerhard cleaned the wound. The old poultice peeled away in a slow, sticky pull, blackened with blood. Gerhard winced. The wound was angry and swollen, but not leaking.

“Better than it was,” he murmured. “But he’s not through it yet.”

Johann nodded as he tugged on the end of his mustache, his jaw tight. He didn’t trust himself to speak…the stench of decay clung to the back of his throat and turned his stomach.

Gerhard wrapped the leg in silence before sitting back stiffly on his heels, pressing a hand to the small of his back. “We’ll have to change it again before nightfall.”

No one moved.

Max lay quietly, chin resting near Heinrich’s side.

Jakob finally took the pipe from his mouth. “So. Who’s Elise?”

Johann didn’t answer right away. His eyes were still on Heinrich, who’d gone quiet again, though his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths.

“She may be the reason he ran,” Johann said finally. “He said men were hunting him.”

Jakob gave a low grunt, shaking his head—not quite disbelief, not quite understanding. “Always a girl.” He looked at Heinrich again, pipe shifting in his mouth.

“Doesn’t take much,” Gerhard muttered. “Wrong girl, wrong family…and that’s all it takes.”

Jakob gave a sharp nod. “Especially if the girl’s in a bind.”

Johann looked up, startled by the bluntness of their words. Jakob’s expression gave nothing away as he stared at the man on the bed.

“Whatever happened,” Jakob said after a moment, “it’s followed him here.”

Gerhard met his eyes. “Then we watch the road.”

Jakob shifted uneasily in his chair, his pipe still in his hand. “I asked around,” he said. “Thought little of it then…just a horse that threw its rider. I figured someone might have seen it.”

He paused, jaw tight. “Should’ve kept quiet.”

“This is my fault,” Johann muttered, biting his lip. Neither man responded.

Jakob sat forward in his chair, rubbing his hand over his jaw.

“I might’ve mentioned it to Lina,” he said, clearing his throat. “Didn’t think she’d take much interest.”

Gerhard’s eyes snapped to him. Then he closed them with a deep sigh.

“You know how she is.” Jakob shrugged. “She’s got a tongue that never rests.”