Tori opened the small chest which served as a wardrobe, withdrew the meager items, and rolled them into a small bundle. Her step faltered as she walked past Scarblade and out the door. Where could she go? How would Granger find her?
There was a strange look on Scarblade’s face as he watched her trudge down the filth-strewn alley. She was really going! This wasn’t like Dolly! In fact, she had been acting strange these past two days. Normally she would have fought back and the landlady would be cowed by the tumult of Dolly’s fury, terrified of her threats to have the old harridan’s neck stretched by some of her rapscallion friends. He had seen her do it in the past. And then the business of the cloak! If she had been pressed for coins she could have sold the cloak and then had enough money for the rent. It didn’t make sense! He watched the girl as she trudged down the road. She almost looked ill; where would she go?
The moon came from behind the clouds and lit up the narrow street. She would no doubt sleep in some alley and be at the mercy of any slum ruffian.
Scarblade turned to the slovenly Mrs. Coombs and sent her flying down the hall to escape his murderous glare. Moments later, he mounted his huge chestnut and started down the road after Dolly. He wanted that girl as never before. He tried to fight the feelings that raced to the surface. She seemed different tonight. She had fought him like a tiger and struggled against him. On other nights, she had come to him willingly and lain in his arms. She had been soft and warm, yielding to him in her passion. This was a new twist. Suddenly, his arms ached to hold her again, to feel her flesh pressing against him as a few moments ago, exciting him as never before. He had been pleasantly surprised by the strength she displayed. He had enjoyed her resistance almost as much as her response.
Quickening the pace of his horse, he rode abreast of Dolly and pulled up on the reins. “Come here,” he said, “I’ll help you.” Tori kept on walking, neither looking up nor to the side of her. Tired, she knew that if she stopped even for a second she would not be able to continue. When the highwayman was done with her, had his way, he would leave her to rot. She must walk!
Scarblade scooped her up with a mighty arm and settled her across his lap. Tori, taken off guard, went limp and almost slid out of his arms. She was reminded again of another time when she sat next to him and knew the wild beating of his heart. She felt oddly at peace and didn’t want ever to move from his hard embrace. She raised her head and looked with soft, glowing eyes at the man who held her. Scarblade met the adoring gaze and drew in his breath. He bent to kiss her and pulled her closer, holding her securely, and the chestnut made its way through the quiet city streets. The only sound Tori was aware of was the horses’ clapping hooves and her own wildly beating heart.
Minutes later, partly due to the slow plodding of the horse and partly to a feeling of security, Tori’s eyes closed and she slept.
From time to time Scarblade looked at the dozing girl with the strange smile on her face.
They rode that way for close to two hours, the tall man with the carbon-black eyes and the sleeping girl.
Scarblade rode into the clearing of a vast wooded area where he was met with a soft query.
“All’s well,” the Blade spoke softly. “I didn’t think I would be so late this night. I had a spot of trouble, as you can see.”
“It be Dolly, guvner,” said the deep, musical voice.
“Aye. She has been evicted and found herself homeless. And,” the Blade said quietly, “she has been near beaten. Make a pallet for the lass and take her gently, Josh.”
The burly, blond man lifted the sleeping girl from the Blade’s arms. “Lord, I don’t remember Dolly being this beautiful,” he said, looking down at her.
“It’s strange you should say that, Josh. I myself was thinking much the same thing.”
The big man kicked his own pallet near a tree and spread the cover with his foot. Gently he lay the sleeping girl down and stood back to observe her. Having an eye for beauty, he grinned. Marcus was going to find he was about to have a few problems when the men spotted her.
Josh walked over to the fire where Marcus sat hunched with a cup of ale in his hands. “I fear there will be trouble if the girl stays,” Josh said quietly, but with an ominous tone.
Marcus nodded soberly. “I know. But what was I to do, Josh? I couldn’t let her walk the streets and fend for herself. She has not a copper to her name and only those rags she wears. If you had been in my place what would you have done?”
Josh nodded. “Much the same, me lad.”
Marcus shrugged. “I think we best wait till morning and see how the lass responds. I’ll give her a purse so she can start over somewhere. Is the watch yours this night, Josh?” At the other’s nod, Marcus admonished him to keep a sharp eye on the girl and to wake him if she stirred.
Marcus peered up at the star-filled night and felt the cold air wrap itself around his body. He would have to find winter quarters soon. And the girl, what of the girl? She certainly could not last long out in the elements. Why did he keep calling her the girl? Her name was Dolly and many’s the time her name came easily to his lips. Why not now? Somehow it did not seem like Dolly. Oh, she looked like her and she wore her clothes, but her manner was different. This girl was soft and warm and she had melting eyes when they weren’t breathing fire. He shrugged. It was Dolly, who else could it be?
Finally he slept, a fitful sleep. A beautiful girl kept telling him to guard her ring while a girl in rags pleaded with him to hold her close. Marcus wakened as dawn broke. His eyes went immediately to the slumbering girl and to Josh. Josh nodded. All was well.
Marcus rose wearily to his feet and walked over to the pail. He dunked his whole head in the ice-encrusted water. Droplets glinted off his dark, wavy mane as he toweled himself and strode to the fire. Josh handed him a steaming cup of coffee, and a brooding look masked his features as he sipped it.
“There is something I think best you know,” Josh said hesitantly. Marcus raised thick brows. “’Tis the brothers, John and Charles. They were arguing last eve about things being divided more equally. They mean to make trouble. I heard Charles brag about the price on your head. He said they could turn you in and collect the reward. Then they could keep up with their plundering and keep all the spoils. And there wouldn’t be anyone to share the loaf. I see no problem with Richard and Ned. They’re good and loyal men, if you care for their ilk.”
“Charles said that, did he?” Marcus asked thoughtfully.
“There’s going to be trouble, Marc,” Josh said soberly as he glanced about to see that no one was within listening distance when he used Scarblade’s Christian name. It was an agreement between them that Marcus would only reveal his true identity to his band of men when all were aboard ship and safely bound for America. “I can feel it in my bones. And I think,” he added ominously, “it’s going to happen when we do the job you outlined.”
Marcus nodded his agreement. “No doubt you’re right, Josh. I’ll just have to stay ahead of them all the way. If I have to, I’ll dispose of them. I’ll need your help, Josh. I want you to keep an eye on the pair of them.”
Josh was seized with a violent fit of coughing. As he groped for a handkerchief, Marcus felt saddened at the condition of his friend. “We have to get you out of this torturous climate, Josh. Once in the warm air of the Carolinas your recovery will be rapid. This cold, damp air does no one’s bones any good,” he said as he rubbed his forearms briskly.
Josh nodded weakly, the spasm over. “I long to see all my friends there,” he sighed. “While I don’t approve of all of this plundering, I can see that it’s the only way to save the colony. I just pray that God sees fit to spare me to make the trip back, Marc,” he said sadly. “Each day I feel myself grow weaker; there’s no sense trying to fool myself—nor you, either.”
Marcus frowned. He, too, noticed the change in the big man’s condition. Josh had been strong and robust, but he now had the appearance of a man who was wasting. While his ruddy complex
ion still had a rosy hue, it was an unnatural color. The color of fever. Still, the bearded man was held in awe by the other men. He towered by a good head over the others. His arms were like corded saplings and his hands like huge hams. He could fell a tree in record time and then haul it away single-handedly. His golden crop of hair and thatch of beard were the envy of all the men. He had gray eyes, soft as a morning dove, that sized the worth of a man in a moment’s time. For this Marcus was thankful. His own judgment had not been too trustworthy of late. While Marcus had the wits and the ingenuity to carry out the daring robberies, he depended on the brawn and the muscle of Josh. That and the common sense he showed when needed.
“Did you carry out the task I assigned to you?” Marcus asked suddenly. He had to shake himself out of this melancholy and get down to business. Time was short and every day counted. He must have his work finished when the ship sailed.
“Aye, Marcus, me lad. I delivered the full cask of sovereigns to the ship. Cap’n Elias has his instructions. He’ll not part with one sovereign unless it is to you in person. The money is well guarded. I paid him well, Marc. And the offer of a new home in the Carolinas was like a piece of cake for the man and his family. He just awaits your decision on the sailing day. Have no fear. He is trustworthy. And that speaks for his crew as well.”
“We need more, Josh. That pitiful cask is but enough for a year on the black market. Then what? Time is short for us now, and traffic on the roadways is light.” A wave of rage welled up in Marcus, constricting the muscles around his heart. “Damn the King!” he swore viciously. “If he would only lift the blockade, cancel the embargo, he would save himself the trouble of putting a price on our heads and allow his soldiers better use of their time than searching the highways and the byways for the likes of us. And if we do get caught . . . hundreds of people will have lost everything—their land, their hopes, the promise of their children’s future.”
“If we can carry off the plan you have in mind we will be set for life. Do you think it will work, Marc?” Josh asked anxiously.
“If everyone does his job right I don’t see how it can fail. It will be the most daring robbery in the history of England. And my conscience doesn’t bother me a whit!” Marcus laughed.
“Imagine the look on the King’s face when he finds out the covey of wagons bearing the taxes have been robbed. And it will all be in gold sovereigns. Only a short time to go and we can be on our way.” Josh sighed. “I cannot wait to see America again. I’ve had enough of this land.”
“The guard will be heavy,” Marcus warned. “I wish I knew what to expect. And what kind of weapons they’ll have.”
“Have no fear, Marc. Before it is time to ride, I myself will pay a visit to the Wild Boar Inn. With a little gentle persuasion one can find out what color undergarments the King wears.” He roared at his small joke and convulsed in a fit of coughing. This time, the handkerchief came away red, Marcus noticed out of the corner of his eye. As Josh tried to hide the telltale signs, Marcus felt a hard knot in the pit of his stomach. He could not, he would not, lose Josh! They had been friends for a lifetime. If he had to, he would blow life into the man’s chest to keep him alive.
“And the girl, Marc. What’s to be done?”
Marcus shrugged. “I see by the look on your face that there is doubt of her. Is it that you think she is a spy for the Crown?” he teased the burly, blond giant.
Josh nodded wearily, doubt lining his ruddy face.
“But Josh, you’re not serious. You don’t know the circumstances—” Quickly he told him the story and watched the big man’s face.
“It would sound like a bit of playacting to me, Marc. This business with the cloak, that’s what worries me. The Dolly we both know would never have returned something that valuable. I think it is a trap. And another thing,” he said, wagging a huge finger, “she has the looks of Dolly and the hair. But the hands, Marcus, me lad. Did you see her hands? Lily-white and not used to work. Aye! Blistered and red, true, but all the same, the hands of a lady. Dolly had the hands of a workingman. Strong, useful, calloused.”
“No, I didn’t notice, Josh. You see why you are invaluable to me?” Quietly Marcus rose, walked over to the sleeping girl, and looked down at her hands. What Josh said was true. Her hands were grimy and some of the tapered nails were broken, yet Josh was right. They were not Dolly’s hands. He looked carefully at her and felt again the odd sensation of recognition. Who was she?
He squinted his eyes and frowned. Now he had not one, but two problems. John and Charles and this wench calling herself Dolly. He walked back to the fires and accepted another mug of coffee from Josh. “You’re right, Josh. I was a fool to bring her here.”
“Don’t feel badly, Marc,” Josh laughed. “Just be careful and watch your step. That’s my advice to you.”
Marcus grimaced. “I’ll watch my step and everyone else’s, too,” he grumbled sullenly.
“What are you going to do with her, me lad?”
“I don’t know just yet, Josh. We’ll just have to take it one day at a time. I can just see all our hard planning thrown in the air if she’s a spy. We need that tax money, Josh; otherwise the whole trip was for nothing. Just a temporary reprieve. Our people will starve in a matter of months. We can’t let anything happen. See,” he said, directing a looming, portentous glance in Tori’s direction. “She’s wakening, Josh.”
Tori raised herself on one elbow and opened her eyes. Where was she? Memory flooded her being, bringing with it a sharp rebuke. Lord, how she ached! Would she be able to move? Her muscles were sore and cramped. Her head throbbed viciously. She sighed and looked around. Her heart skipped a beat as her eyes locked with those of the highwayman who sat near the fire.
In the early-morning light the final difference between Dolly and this girl was evident. Her eyes were bright with fever. What had he been thinking of not to have noticed them last night?
Tori tried to struggle to her feet only to fall to her knees. Both Scarblade and Josh watched. Josh had to hold Marcus’s arm or he would have gone to her side.
Marcus relaxed. He watched the girl gain her feet and stand wavering in the cold air. She looked around the campsite and spotted the pail of water. Tori tottered to the rough plank that held the pail and wrapped her arms around the ancient tree. She swayed dizzily. Marcus jumped to his feet. Josh missed his coattails by a mere inch. Just as Tori started to fall, Marcus caught her.
“Best take it slow, Dolly, my girl,” the Blade laughed. “It would appear to my men that you have taken to sipping or nipping, whatever the case may be.” Tori frowned at his words. Her head felt thick and full of cotton. Rubbing her hands over her forehead she felt uneasy at the warmness of her skin.
“Take your hands off me,” she croaked in a hoarse whisper. “Leave me be. When I want your help, I’ll ask for it.” Again she swayed precariously.
“Then hurry and ask for it, for in another minute you will fall to the ground,” Marcus snapped.
Tori fought an angry retort as she felt herself falling. “Help me,” she pleaded, her eyes bright. Marcus caught her as she sunk to the ground and she knew no more.
Taking in the scene, Josh ambled over and felt the girl’s hot forehead. “She is feverish, and look at her cheeks. Just what we need,” he grumbled, “a sick girl on our hands. A sick girl who just might be a spy for the Crown,” he emphasized.
Marcus nodded impatiently as he lowered the girl to the pallet. “Fetch more blankets, Josh, and make some kind of a poultice for her fever.” As Josh made off to do his bidding, he saw Marcus carefully pull the rough blankets up to the girl’s chin. Josh smiled to himself. He, too, could well remember the feel of a girl in his arms.
Tori opened her eyes and gazed into the sloe-black eyes of Marcus. “Am I sick?” she quavered. Marcus nodded. Tori closed her eyes as though there were lead weights tied to the lids. She felt that to open them would take all the strength she possessed. Something deep in her mind told her this m
an would take care of her and let nothing happen to her. She drifted off into a feverish sleep. Tori felt gentle hands place something on her head and neck. A feeling of sudden warmth engulfed her as piles of blankets were heaped on her.
“The fever is high, Marcus,” Josh said irritably. “She should have a physician look at her.”
Marcus shook his head. “Just do the best you can, Josh. That’s all for now. We can’t risk moving her, and you well know that no physician can be brought here.”
“But, Marc, she should be indoors. This cold, damp air will have her chest congested in no time. She has to be raised off the ground.”
“Perhaps if we fashion a makeshift tent of some blankets and raise the pallet she will fare better.”
There was much grumbling on the part of the men, but they hastened to obey Marcus’s orders. Anyone who had ever seen Scarblade’s temper once vowed never to be the one to raise it a second time.
Soon the improvised quarters were arranged and Tori raised on her narrow pallet well off the ground. Josh appointed himself her nurse and ministered to her like a guardian angel. He knew in his heart that this girl had some manner of hold on his friend, Marcus, whether Marcus admitted it or not.
Chapter Fourteen
“It’s time! There should be good pickings tonight, men,” Scarblade shouted, enthusiasm lightening his voice. “The wedding that was held yesterday will see the guests leaving today. Yesterday there was but a mere handful that took their leave. If we ride quickly and carefully we should be able to overtake close to a dozen before the night is over. Mount up, men, and follow the roads I’ve mapped out. Josh is staying behind with the girl. Remember my warning. There is to be no killing and no abuse.” The men shouted their agreement and galloped out of the clearing while Marcus rode over to the makeshift tent and inquired of Josh.
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