she said urgently, facing her kinswoman.
"I'm going to set out for Mhor Manor. Glenis is alone there, since the two
girls have the day free. If she spies the soldiers on the road, she'll think
the worst and panic for sure. I hope 'tis not another contingent sent to burn
us out."
"Be careful, Maddie," Flora warned. Concern
etched her pale features, and she hugged her infant daughter protectively.
Madeleine nodded. " 'Twill be faster if I leave
the cart here and ride the mare back to the estate."
She smiled quickly at the three boys as she hurried
from the cottage. She deftly unhitched the small cart and jumped on the mare's
bare back, her skirt gathered between her legs.
"Off with ye!" she cried, clucking her tongue
and kicking the mare with the heels of her sturdy leather brogues.
The startled animal lurched forward. They skirted the
village along a familiar footpath, well out of view of the soldiers, then set
off at a full gallop across the green valley toward Mhor Manor, Madeleine's
hair flying behind her.
***
When he reached the outskirts of Farraline, Garrett pulled
up on the reins. His massive bay gelding snorted and pawed restlessly at the
heath. "Easy, Samson, easy," he murmured, untying his cravat and
wiping the dust and sweat from his face.
He squinted against the midday sunlight, looking down
the narrow road that wound ahead of them through the rugged Highland landscape.
Like the other roads they had traveled since abandoning
the paved efficiency of Wade's highway, it was no more than two rutted, dirt
tracks with a grassy strip in the center. He and his men had been forced to
stop twice already and replace broken wagon wheels.
At least we're almost there, Garrett thought. In the
near distance he could see whitewashed walls and a black slate roof framed by a
backdrop of fir trees and jagged gray mountains. The large manor house Colonel
Wolfe had suggested to him lay just ahead.
He twisted in his saddle and surveyed the rumbling line
of supply wagons drawn by exhausted horses. Two soldiers marched between each
wagon, their loaded muskets held crosswise in front of them. The wagon drivers
had loaded weapons beneath their seats as an added security measure.
The rigorous strain of the long march showed in the
soldiers' tired faces. Garrett had pushed them hard. They had not slept since
leaving Fort Augustus and had paused only briefly for quick meals of salted
beef, hard biscuits, and warm ale. They had followed a different route this
time, staying well on Wade's Road until the last possible moment. He had taken
every precaution to prevent another encounter with Black Jack.
He grimaced, recalling the reprimand he had received
after his unexpected return to Fort Augustus, thankfully clothed. General
Hawley's incensed ranting still rang in his ears. Only Colonel Wolfe's
intervention had spared him twenty lashes with the cat-o'-nine-tails, and the
colonel's persuasive arguments had convinced Hawley to grant him one more
chance to capture the outlaw.
Yet such a lashing could not have intensified his
burning commitment to bring Black Jack to justice. He had a personal score to
settle for the humiliation he and his men had suffered, as well as for the
injury inflicted on his former sergeant. They had barely reached Fort Augustus
in time and the man had nearly died from his wound. Dammit, he would find the
bastard!
"Sergeant Fletcher!" he shouted as he stuffed
his soiled cravat in the side pocket of his coat.
A stout soldier stepped out from the line, slinging his
musket over his shoulder. "Captain?"
"I'm going to ride ahead. See that the men keep
moving. The manor house is just beyond that copse of trees."
"Very good, sir."
As Garrett dug his boots into the horse's sides and
took off at a gallop, the sergeant's terse command cut through the air.
"You heard the captain, lads. Keep up the pace. There'll be a swig of
brandy awaiting each of you when we get to our new quarters."
Racing along the road,
"I'm going to set out for Mhor Manor. Glenis is alone there, since the two
girls have the day free. If she spies the soldiers on the road, she'll think
the worst and panic for sure. I hope 'tis not another contingent sent to burn
us out."
"Be careful, Maddie," Flora warned. Concern
etched her pale features, and she hugged her infant daughter protectively.
Madeleine nodded. " 'Twill be faster if I leave
the cart here and ride the mare back to the estate."
She smiled quickly at the three boys as she hurried
from the cottage. She deftly unhitched the small cart and jumped on the mare's
bare back, her skirt gathered between her legs.
"Off with ye!" she cried, clucking her tongue
and kicking the mare with the heels of her sturdy leather brogues.
The startled animal lurched forward. They skirted the
village along a familiar footpath, well out of view of the soldiers, then set
off at a full gallop across the green valley toward Mhor Manor, Madeleine's
hair flying behind her.
***
When he reached the outskirts of Farraline, Garrett pulled
up on the reins. His massive bay gelding snorted and pawed restlessly at the
heath. "Easy, Samson, easy," he murmured, untying his cravat and
wiping the dust and sweat from his face.
He squinted against the midday sunlight, looking down
the narrow road that wound ahead of them through the rugged Highland landscape.
Like the other roads they had traveled since abandoning
the paved efficiency of Wade's highway, it was no more than two rutted, dirt
tracks with a grassy strip in the center. He and his men had been forced to
stop twice already and replace broken wagon wheels.
At least we're almost there, Garrett thought. In the
near distance he could see whitewashed walls and a black slate roof framed by a
backdrop of fir trees and jagged gray mountains. The large manor house Colonel
Wolfe had suggested to him lay just ahead.
He twisted in his saddle and surveyed the rumbling line
of supply wagons drawn by exhausted horses. Two soldiers marched between each
wagon, their loaded muskets held crosswise in front of them. The wagon drivers
had loaded weapons beneath their seats as an added security measure.
The rigorous strain of the long march showed in the
soldiers' tired faces. Garrett had pushed them hard. They had not slept since
leaving Fort Augustus and had paused only briefly for quick meals of salted
beef, hard biscuits, and warm ale. They had followed a different route this
time, staying well on Wade's Road until the last possible moment. He had taken
every precaution to prevent another encounter with Black Jack.
He grimaced, recalling the reprimand he had received
after his unexpected return to Fort Augustus, thankfully clothed. General
Hawley's incensed ranting still rang in his ears. Only Colonel Wolfe's
intervention had spared him twenty lashes with the cat-o'-nine-tails, and the
colonel's persuasive arguments had convinced Hawley to grant him one more
chance to capture the outlaw.
Yet such a lashing could not have intensified his
burning commitment to bring Black Jack to justice. He had a personal score to
settle for the humiliation he and his men had suffered, as well as for the
injury inflicted on his former sergeant. They had barely reached Fort Augustus
in time and the man had nearly died from his wound. Dammit, he would find the
bastard!
"Sergeant Fletcher!" he shouted as he stuffed
his soiled cravat in the side pocket of his coat.
A stout soldier stepped out from the line, slinging his
musket over his shoulder. "Captain?"
"I'm going to ride ahead. See that the men keep
moving. The manor house is just beyond that copse of trees."
"Very good, sir."
As Garrett dug his boots into the horse's sides and
took off at a gallop, the sergeant's terse command cut through the air.
"You heard the captain, lads. Keep up the pace. There'll be a swig of
brandy awaiting each of you when we get to our new quarters."
Racing along the road,
Similar Books
