encampments in the area until she finally realized that the
one she sought was the closest to her. It stood among several birch trees with
a weak fire offering soft illumination into the night. She could see the wagon,
plainly, but she could also see several men milling about. She would have to
wait until they went to sleep, but that also meant the chance of Dodge
discovering her missing greatened. The longer she delayed, the worse the
trouble would be.
The minutes
ticked by with painful slowness. Alisanne was aching and wet and stinky,
smelling herself and wishing fervently she could take a bath and wash her
clothes. So much travel and filth was a terrible thing to a young lady. Dodge’s men finally settled down by the
campfire, several feet away from the wagon, and Alisanne couldn’t wait any
longer. The scattered birch trees would
offer some hiding places and she crawled, trotted and rolled from tree to tree
until she was fairly close to the wagon. The men around the fire were laughing
and drinking and she lay down on her stomach, like a snake, and slithered to
the tired old rig. She lay there underneath it for several moments, making sure
she had not been sighted, before pulling herself onto the bed.
The flat bed
was shielded from view by the wooden sidings. It also made it rather dark and,
with her bad eyes, difficult to see. But she could clearly see a figure on the
slats and she crept forward, sick to her stomach that
Dodge’s men had thrashed him so soundly. Alisanne could make out the outline of his head and she reached out to
touch him, only to find his hair wet and sticky.
“Alisanne,”
he suddenly hissed. “Christ, I didn’t know it was you.”
His voice
startled her and she clamped a hand over his mouth. “I’ve come to rescue you,”
she whispered. “Are you well enough to travel?”
His face was
gradually coming into focus as her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. “Well
enough. But are you all right? Did Dodge hurt you?”
A warmth spread over her; he was worrying
about her when he was in far more trouble than she could imagine. “I am fine,”
she said softly. “But we must get out of here.”
“Where is
Dodge?”
“He’s at the
inn,” she said. “Please, there is no time for talk. We must leave!”
He couldn’t
argue that, though the circumstances were fuzzy to him. He wouldn’t know how feasible their escape
was unless he had some facts. “Where are the men who are watching over me?”
“Sitting
around a fire several feet away.”
“How many?”
“Six, I
think.”
“Drinking,
no doubt.”
She
nodded. “They’re all well on their way
to becoming drunk. We can slip away, but we must hurry.”
Roane
wouldn’t argue. He’d already been beaten soundly; if he were to escape and be
captured again, he couldn’t imagine the punishment would be much worse and
suspected he had nothing to lose in an attempt. But Alisanne… the consequences
would be severe for her were she to be found a traitor. She had risked so much
to come to him, to “rescue” him, as she had put it. He had to get her out of
here.
“Untie me,
love,” he said.
She hastily
complied, but with some difficulty. The fact that he had addressed her fondly
made her heart feel strange and fluttery, and her fingers were having a hard
time picking at the knots. But eventually the rope fell away and for several
moments Roane’s hands were useless because the ropes had cut off his
circulation. He feebly rubbed at them, but Alisanne took charged and massaged
them vigorously until some feeling returned. He watched her as she kneaded his
palms, emotions sweeping him that he had never thought to feel.
“You have a
magical touch,” he said softly. “Thank you.”
She blushed
furiously; he could see it even in the dark. Before she could respond, laughter
sounded from the campfire and they instantly stilled. In the warmth of the
moment they had almost forgotten about their perilous situation.
one she sought was the closest to her. It stood among several birch trees with
a weak fire offering soft illumination into the night. She could see the wagon,
plainly, but she could also see several men milling about. She would have to
wait until they went to sleep, but that also meant the chance of Dodge
discovering her missing greatened. The longer she delayed, the worse the
trouble would be.
The minutes
ticked by with painful slowness. Alisanne was aching and wet and stinky,
smelling herself and wishing fervently she could take a bath and wash her
clothes. So much travel and filth was a terrible thing to a young lady. Dodge’s men finally settled down by the
campfire, several feet away from the wagon, and Alisanne couldn’t wait any
longer. The scattered birch trees would
offer some hiding places and she crawled, trotted and rolled from tree to tree
until she was fairly close to the wagon. The men around the fire were laughing
and drinking and she lay down on her stomach, like a snake, and slithered to
the tired old rig. She lay there underneath it for several moments, making sure
she had not been sighted, before pulling herself onto the bed.
The flat bed
was shielded from view by the wooden sidings. It also made it rather dark and,
with her bad eyes, difficult to see. But she could clearly see a figure on the
slats and she crept forward, sick to her stomach that
Dodge’s men had thrashed him so soundly. Alisanne could make out the outline of his head and she reached out to
touch him, only to find his hair wet and sticky.
“Alisanne,”
he suddenly hissed. “Christ, I didn’t know it was you.”
His voice
startled her and she clamped a hand over his mouth. “I’ve come to rescue you,”
she whispered. “Are you well enough to travel?”
His face was
gradually coming into focus as her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. “Well
enough. But are you all right? Did Dodge hurt you?”
A warmth spread over her; he was worrying
about her when he was in far more trouble than she could imagine. “I am fine,”
she said softly. “But we must get out of here.”
“Where is
Dodge?”
“He’s at the
inn,” she said. “Please, there is no time for talk. We must leave!”
He couldn’t
argue that, though the circumstances were fuzzy to him. He wouldn’t know how feasible their escape
was unless he had some facts. “Where are the men who are watching over me?”
“Sitting
around a fire several feet away.”
“How many?”
“Six, I
think.”
“Drinking,
no doubt.”
She
nodded. “They’re all well on their way
to becoming drunk. We can slip away, but we must hurry.”
Roane
wouldn’t argue. He’d already been beaten soundly; if he were to escape and be
captured again, he couldn’t imagine the punishment would be much worse and
suspected he had nothing to lose in an attempt. But Alisanne… the consequences
would be severe for her were she to be found a traitor. She had risked so much
to come to him, to “rescue” him, as she had put it. He had to get her out of
here.
“Untie me,
love,” he said.
She hastily
complied, but with some difficulty. The fact that he had addressed her fondly
made her heart feel strange and fluttery, and her fingers were having a hard
time picking at the knots. But eventually the rope fell away and for several
moments Roane’s hands were useless because the ropes had cut off his
circulation. He feebly rubbed at them, but Alisanne took charged and massaged
them vigorously until some feeling returned. He watched her as she kneaded his
palms, emotions sweeping him that he had never thought to feel.
“You have a
magical touch,” he said softly. “Thank you.”
She blushed
furiously; he could see it even in the dark. Before she could respond, laughter
sounded from the campfire and they instantly stilled. In the warmth of the
moment they had almost forgotten about their perilous situation.
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