“Aye, so it will,” Josh murmured drowsily. “But it’ll be to your advantage, Scarblade. Wait till you hear what I have to tell you.”
“When you’re rested, Josh. There’s no hurry. There’s nowhere to go this night. I want to stoke the fires and get the logs inside the circle before the snow gets too heavy. You will see to Josh, won’t you . . . Dolly?” he asked in his old mocking tone.
Tori’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at Josh’s still form, and for an answer to his question she raised her glistening eyes to Marcus.
Josh dozed from time to time and Tori kept herself busy changing the hot rocks and pulling the worn blankets up around his neck. Soon the men had a stack of logs near each of the burning fires. They came stomping cold feet to stand next to Josh and silently wish his speedy recovery.
Some time after Tori had made Josh as comfortable as possible, she was aware that Charles had crept from the frozen woods close to a warming fire. His brother John was tending the wounds he had suffered from Marcus’s battering fists. The brothers cast menacing looks in Marcus’s direction, and John, being the bolder for not having met Marcus in open confrontation, was intoning whispers to Richard, who had obligingly melted snow to bathe Charles’s face. Richard and John engaged in a brief difference of opinion, Richard no doubt defending his leader Scarblade.
Spitting into the fire and scowling at John, Richard rose to his feet and moved to another of the crackling fires to join Ned.
Tori experienced a sense of shame to be fought over like some bitch in heat, and she quickly reviewed her past actions, wondering if somehow she had given justification for Charles’s attitude. Instinctively, she knew he was not finished with her and that Scarblade too had not yet felt the strength of his revenge.
Later Tori ladled out the hot broth to the men, John taking a bowl to Charles, and refilled their cups with strong coffee. Marcus observed the four small rabbits on the stick as they roasted. It would have to be enough.
The skimpy meal over, the men retired to the fires, wrapping themselves in blankets and huddling together. The snow had now turned to blinding swirls as the wind howled. “The wolves will be out soon,” Scarblade said to Tori. She raised her startled eyes to meet his. “They won’t come near the fires,” he said reassuringly. “I’ve seen them make a ring outside a fire, though.”
Tori shuddered. There was no hint of mockery in his tone and she believed him. Tales of the wolves Tori had heard came spiraling back to her in full horror.
The firelight dealt kindly with Josh’s features, and he appeared less ravaged. Tori admired this kind, wise man. It wasn’t really anything he said or did, it was the man himself. He most truly believed in what he was doing. She had caught snatches of his conversations with Marcus about the people in America. “My people,” Josh had said. His and Marcus’s people. Tori knew their people were starving.
When Marcus had spoken of the small children going hungry her stomach had heaved as she remembered the elaborate banquet that must have been served at the wedding feast. Half the food would have been wasted. To think that small children were starving made her want to cry. With this heavy thought she dozed off.
Suddenly Tori was awakened by some strange sound. Peering out past the fires into the darkness, Tori found herself staring at diminutive winking lights. It was a full moment before she realized they were the eyes of animals reflecting the blazing fires. Low, whining, grumbling sounds filtered by the falling snow and howling wind fell on her ears. Her flesh crawled and she shivered with fear. The wolves, she thought, terrified. Then, remembering Marcus saying they would never go beyond the outer fires, she calmed. Odd, she thought, how much I trust him.
Leaning over Josh at dawn’s first, feeble light, Tori cradled the great leonine head to her bosom and removed the sweat-soaked rags from beneath it. The cold was making them stiff with frost and they cracked in her fingers as she exchanged them for dry ones.
“Pray tell, lass, why do I find myself in this compromising position? What will the men think?”
Tori flushed a bright crimson and her eyes sparkled. “Ah, Josh, by your tone I can tell you’re feeling better. I’m so glad,” she said sincerely. “What do I care about what the men think? They think the same thoughts regardless. They’re a pack of jackals, the lot of them. How you and Scarblade ever became mixed with them is beyond me. Lay still, Josh, I’ll get you some hot coffee.”
“Scarblade! Come here!” Josh called, and when Marcus was near, said, “I best be telling you the news I picked up at the Boare Inn yesterday. I’ll be speaking softly, so listen carefully.”
“Do you want me to leave?” Tori asked hesitantly.
“There’s no place to go, lass,” Josh said as he looked at the swirling snow. “Stay. You might as well hear now as later.” Marcus agreed, and Tori settled herself next to Josh and sipped her coffee.
“While at the Boare I heard the men talking about the taxes being collected. Did ye know, Marcus, that this year they were doubled?”
“Doubled?” Marcus exclaimed in surprise. “Why?”
“It seems our good King George III has left boyhood behind him. It’s amazing how the price of wenching doubles and triples in those advanced years.”
“I see,” Marcus laughed. “So we shall find ourselves that much richer. Good!”
“A little after the noon hour two of the sheriff’s men who collected the taxes stopped for some ale. I listened quite openly. They didn’t seem afraid to speak. Right cocky they were. One of the men, evidently not used to drinking ale, got in his cups sooner than the other and they began to argue about the delivery. The sober one kept saying they prayed for snow so that their route would be disguised.” Marcus looked perplexed.
“I couldn’t figure it out at first myself,” Josh laughed. “Seems they know if it snows no one will be able to keep up with the wagons. They say the wagons are to be drawn by a team of six horses, the King’s own horses. I tell you, Marcus, me lad, I found it hard not to laugh in their faces. The wagons, carrying heavy loads, will have to move slowly. We’ll have all the speed on our side.” He craned his neck. “And they won’t be able to see us for the swirling snow. In minutes we’ll be covered with snow ourselves, and we’ll blend in with the landscape. The wagons, on the other hand, will leave deep ruts. What d’you think?”
Marcus shrugged. “How much of an armed guard is there? Do you think they’re expecting any trouble?”
Josh answered, “Aye. They’ve one man to ride point. John can overtake him at the bend by Cutters’ farm. There’s to be the driver and an armed guard waiting atop the coach. Crack shots, both of them!” Josh added gloomily. “There’s to be four wagons in all. That makes a total of twelve men and the one riding point. There’re only six of us, counting the girl, seven.”
“And the route, Josh? Which is it? Is it the one we marked on the map?”
“Aye, one and the same. And I know the route and lanes like the back of me hand. There’s not a place for a one of them to sidetrack us.”
“What of a trap? Could there be more of the King’s men waiting to ambush us anywhere along the way?”
“I think not. If so, the men were not told of it. They couldn’t wait to tell how carefully this route had been set up. No, they would have bragged of it. I think you have the inside track. ’Tis a daring deed we do, and if caught . . .” He drew his fingers across his neck in a slicing gesture.
“There’s no other way, Josh. Let’s have no second thoughts now. What time are the coaches to leave?”
“Right now! Dawn! That gives us three hours till they hit Cutters’ farm. We have to make our move then and be quick about it. From there it’s another hour’s ride in normal weather to the wharf. We load the casks, and that’s the end of it. But it may take two, three hours if this weather keeps up. Best be prepared!”
Marcus sat hunched against the weather, his face cold and unreadable. Josh and Tori sat silently watching him.
“It sounds too e
asy, Josh. I feel there is a trap somewhere.”
“Ye be wrong, Marc. In this weather how could there be? Ye can’t see your hand in front of your face.”
“If there is a trap, we’ll just have to take over the wagons and assume the positions of the guards. I have an idea swimming around in my head,” Marc said, glancing at Tori. “But we’ll only use it if necessary.”
Tori, noticing Marcus’s look at her, shuddered with fear—was she to be the decoy?
Chapter Twenty
The snow swirled and spat above the dancing, roaring fire. Tori sat huddled by the blaze and watched the emotions flicker across Marcus’s face. He looked terribly worried.
He rose to his feet and walked over to replenish the smaller fires and to stir the men.
“I feel a bit like a newborn babe,” Josh said with a wan smile. “Or else I’m developing sea legs in anticipation of our journey.” He pulled his cloak close around him and rubbed his hands together. Tori stood shivering and tried to wrap the thin blanket securely around her sparse frame. Finally, with much tugging and struggling, she had it wrapped to her satisfaction. Her thoughts went to the ermine-lined cloak, and for a second she could almost feel its warmth and the softness caress her body.
Marcus led the horses to the outer circle of the fires and directed the men to tie ropes securely from one saddle to the next. They would have to ride in a straight line so as not to get lost in the snow. It was blinding. It would be almost impossible to keep one’s eyes open. He felt a momentary twinge as he watched Josh and the girl mount the horses. Josh’s great sorrel snorted and pawed the ground. Josh would ride the lead, as he said his horse could make the trip blindfolded. Marcus hoped he was right, this had to go off as planned, time was so short.
Tori cast a backward glance at the small ring of fires. For a second she felt a pang at leaving the clearing. I must be mad, she thought to herself. I’m on my way home! Still, somehow she felt an aching loss.
For close to two hours the small band headed into the wind and the heavy snow. Josh rode with his head hunched in his cloak. Everyone followed blindly. Suddenly the sorrel halted and Josh called back to Marcus, “’Tis the fork. If there is to be a trap, it will be over the rise. What is it to be, Scarblade?”
“Keep going,” Marcus shouted to be heard over the wind. “If they’re camped there, they’ll have to have some kind of fire.”
“You’ll see the smoke and smell it,” Josh called back, “the winds will carry it to us.”
“Keep going!” was the command Josh shouted as he prodded the sorrel gently. The snow was getting deeper by the hour. Progress was almost at a crawl.
The small party rode silently, each busy with his own thoughts. Tori let her mind wander to happier days when she was a child and had nothing to occupy her mind but flights of fancy.
Marcus prayed silently that Josh would be fit enough to make it to the ship alive and well.
Josh had thoughts only of trying to fight down the ache in his chest. Warm climates and sunshine loomed so far away on the horizon that he felt he would never see them again. “I will,” he said determinedly. “I have to!”
Charles rode behind the hunched figure of Tori. Soon as they made camp this night, he would satisfy his want of her once and for all. Josh would be too sick by then to interfere. He would kill Scarblade if he had to. He shrugged deeper into the cloak and felt warm at the thought.
John and Ned and Richard had no thoughts other than how to spend the gold they were to have as their share.
The sorrel came to a stop and reared on its hind legs. He pawed the ground and snorted fearlessly. Marcus slid from the chestnut he rode and trudged to Josh.
“You were right, Scarblade. There’s a camp over there, beyond the hill. How many, lad?”
“Probably a dozen. They know we ride only six. They probably figure that two to one of us. The odds are not good, Josh. I have a plan.”
Quickly he told Josh, who shook his head vehemently. “They’ll kill her. They wouldn’t be feeble-minded now! What would a lone girl be doing out here in such a storm? Use your head!”
Marcus shook his head stubbornly. “I am using my head. It’s the only way. She has to be the bait! She’s a fair-looking lass. Their first thoughts will be to have a little fun. ’Tis too cold for anything else. When she has them all around her we’ll just have to make the best of it, and from what I’ve seen, she’ll manage. There’s no other way, Josh. You know that. We can’t have come this far to lose now.”
“What if the girl wasn’t here?” Josh asked stubbornly. “What then?”
“There’s no time to worry about what might have been. This is now, Josh, we must act now! I’ll get the girl.”
Back hunched against the wind, Marcus sought Tori. His heart thudded dully within him, the cords in his throat constricted into tight knots. Harshly, he accused himself. He was a man used to enjoying a woman’s charms and not suffering a moment’s conscience. But Tori was different, she wasn’t a woman to be used and cast carelessly aside. She was the kind of woman a man marries. And I’m not a marrying man, he rebuked himself, remembering the conversation he had had with Myles Lampton and Samuel before he left for England. To find a woman who contradicts all I’ve said about her sex. One to offer a great sacrifice for another. To snatch her up and carry her off to the valley.
With these thoughts, Marcus trudged back to Tori and, quickly and in cold tones, outlined his plan. To his surprise, she accepted readily. “Can you do it?” His ebony eyes bore into hers and a shadow of regret dimmed their brightness. He hated having to entreat her to do this, but he knew no other solution.
Tori recognized the shadow in his eyes for what it was and lowered her gaze, not daring to probe deeper into those night-dark mirrors, not daring to listen to her heart which was beating a tattoo of He cares! I know he cares for me! Lips trembling and choking back tears, Tori nodded her agreement.
What difference did it make what she did? Sometime within the last hour she had become convinced that she would never get home alive. If she could in some way help the people of Chancelor’s Valley, she would.
Marcus untied the rope tethering her horse and led her to the front of the line. “There is one thing I must tell you, Tori.” He hesitated for a second.
Tori looked across at the man who sat next to her astride his own steed. She saw the look of hopelessness that was beginning to cloud the handsome looks of the notorious Scarblade. “They may shoot me down,” he said.
She held in her tears. “I knew that the moment you explained the situation to me. I pray that you succeed in your mission. And if it is not too forward of me, would you perhaps do me one last favor?”
Marcus swallowed back a lump in his throat and nodded.
“Take care of Josh and see that he gets to that ship of yours.” Before Marcus could reply Tori had spurred the horse and was off, leaving Marcus squinting into the driving snow that concealed her as effectively as the damask curtains surrounding a marriage bed.
Anger coursed through him with such a red-hot fire that he gasped. To have to be put in such a position that he sent a mere girl out to do a man’s job and probably to be killed. He couldn’t think of that. There were hundreds of lives that depended on him. Other young girls and small children. He could not let her color his thinking. Josh sighed mightily as he brought his steed abreast of Marcus.
“Don’t think, Marcus! You were right! There was no other way.” He could not resist adding, “You were wrong, Marc, only about the girl. Too long you have carried the worries of that young colony on your shoulders; and while they are broad, there is always someone willing to help. The girl has proved that!” He motioned with his hand and the men dismounted, their pistols drawn. Slowly they crept forward in the deep snow.
A shot rang out, splitting the frozen silence with a crack. Josh forcibly restrained Marcus while Charles whispered quietly to the men.
“Easy does it, lads. Not a sound now. We form a half-circle. Fi
re quick and fast. There will be no second chance.”
Vehemently clutching Charles’s arm Marcus whispered, “No killing.”
“’Tis too late for that, Scarblade!” Charles muttered through his swollen, broken mouth that bore the mark of the brutal beating he had received the day before. “It’s either kill or be killed!” The other men nodded.
Marcus knew he was outnumbered. He tried again. “Then try to wound only, I want no killing on my soul.”
“’Tis your soul ye be worryin’ about, izzit, Scarblade? I’m not!”
Josh crawled back to the small half-circle of men. “There be eight of them, Scarblade, and the girl is sitting by the fire. What do you think? I swear she has them bewitched.” Suddenly he chuckled at the expression on his friend’s face.
Within minutes it was over. Charles, with the stealth of a cat, had two heads together and gave them a vicious crack. Josh had one man’s neck in the crook of his arm. Ned, Richard, and John stood silently with drawn pistols. The five remaining royal guards surrendered and laid down their weapons.
Scarblade, heaving a sigh, thanked God there had been no killing. “Quickly now, bind them and leave them by the fire,” he ordered John. “Before we go have one of the men replenish the fire and bind them loosely enough so they can free themselves after a time.”
Scarblade looked into the cold, hostile eyes of Victoria Rawlings and felt a strange emotion rise up in his chest. The gold-green eyes appeared sleepy and feline in the firelight. She lowered her eyes and struggled to her feet.
Well done, Tori, she said to herself. What had she expected? A pretty “thank you,” perhaps? Perhaps just one kind word. She waited. There was some strange look on the man’s face, a look she could not fathom.
Josh shouted to be heard over the roaring flames and the driving snow. “This man,” he said, jabbing a huge hand at a trussed form by the fire, “says that if we ride south we should overtake the wagons in an hour’s time.” He lowered his voice so that only Marcus could hear. “Then we would be at best another two hours’ ride from the ship.”
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