Jamie stood still, and Flora found herself holding her breath. The mare seemed reassured, and dropped her head again to nibble the grass. It seemed hours to Flora, no movement from Jamie, no sign of Atonsa, and only the occasional step of the mare as she wandered slowly onwards to find more succulent blades of fresh spring grass.
Then, apparently out of the ground, Atonsa appeared a few feet away from the mare. Before she even sensed his presence, he was grasping her mane, moving slowly in front of her, and standing utterly still, his nose nuzzling hers. Then he tugged on the mane, and she began to walk beside him, placid and obedient.
Jamie waited until they were out of sight, then he came and climbed back on the waggon.
'It's magic!' he said, with a slight laugh. 'But it won't be as easy to catch the youngster. She'll be miles away by now.'
'How did they escape from the paddocks?' Flora asked. 'They would have been in different paddocks, too, we kept them separate.'
'That is something we'll find out soon. The fences could have broken, but what's more worrying is that someone took off the headcollars.'
'Let's go and see,' Flora urged, impatient to discover the worst, but Jamie shook his head.
'Give Atonsa plenty of time to walk her back. Without a collar or halter she could easily pull away from him if she's startled.'
At last he set the waggon in motion, and they went on. Flora's heart sank lower and lower as she saw the deserted paddocks. Some of the fences were torn down, and not a single horse was visible. They drew up outside the cabin to see Atonsa emerging from the barn where the mares were stabled.
'It looks bad,' he said quietly.
'Are there any at all in the stables?' Jamie demanded.
'Only that one.'
Swiftly Jamie ran to check on the stallion's barn, while Flora made for the cabin. She was standing in the doorway when Jamie came up to her.
'They've been here,' she whispered. 'All the furniture's been moved, the beds are disturbed, and there are dirty plates.'
She moved to look more closely. The food on the plates was congealed hard, and the fire was cold. It could have been many hours since anyone had been in the cabin. Then she saw the figure of the soldier she had made for Matthew, which he played with all the time, lying under the table. She bent to pick it up, and found a deep slash across the neck. The small pieces of cloth she had used for stuffing were falling out. Blinking hard, terrified of her thoughts, she held it out for Jamie to see.
'Come, we'll go straight to Bruce's, ask if they know what's happened,' he said.
It was quicker to walk. Atonsa offered to unhitch the waggon and attend to the horse, and Flora hurried off, almost running in her anxiety to reach her children. Jamie caught up with her and held her hand as they went.
To her enormous relief she saw them playing outside the cabin with Meg, Bella, and Isabella's youngest.
Meg looked up and waved. 'Where have you been? We expected you back days since.'
'Never mind that. Is everyone all right? Where's Patrick O'Brien?'
'Patrick? I haven't seen him since yesterday morning. He brought up some milk, said he couldn't drink any more, and didn't know how to make butter or cheese. Isn't he there?'
'No, and neither are the horses. Meg, they've all gone! Have you any idea what's been happening?'
***
No one had seen or heard anything unusual. Jamie and Flora went back to their own cabin, having felt it safer to leave the children with Bruce's family until they knew more. Atonsa met them, coming out of the end of the barn where the last of the previous year's hay was stored.
'Is Patrick short, dark man, bright blue eyes?' he asked.
Jamie nodded. 'Is he in there?'
He and Flora moved towards it, but Atonsa stepped in front of them. 'Not go in, Miss Flora. Not pretty.'
She waited, occupying herself with building a fire. They needed a hot drink. When Jamie came back he sat down on the bench and put his head in his hands.
'He's dead?'
'Yes. Butchered. Poor fellow. It looks as though he was trying to prevent them, whoever they were, from stealing the horses.'
'Where's Atonsa?'
'He says he can track them. He's looking now for signs.'
'Jamie, no!'
'What do you mean?'
'It's not safe to go after murdering brutes! You don't know how many there are. You could be murdered too!'
'We can't go today, it's too late. But if Atonsa can discover the direction we can follow tomorrow. If we don't get them back we'll have lost all our work, have to start again from nothing.'
Flora stared at him, then straightened her shoulders. 'We have one mare and her foal, God willing, and a cabin and barns and fences. We still have a great deal. We can start again if we have to.'
He looked at her for a long, silent moment, and she closed her eyes for fear he saw the pain in them. She was not at all sure she could continue if she had did not have his love.
'It would be better to recover what we've lost. They won't have gone far if they're driving all the mares. Some of them must be ready to drop the foals at any moment.'
'But what will you do? They'll see you.'
He laughed grimly. 'Atonsa can move silently, and he's already taught me a great deal. He suggests we ask Hamish to come too. He spent time with the Indians, when he met Mary. We won't challenge them if they outnumber us.'
Nothing she could say would change his mind. Atonsa returned soon after dusk, and gratefully accepted the grilled trout Flora had prepared, once she had a good fire going.
'Well?'
'Two only. They camp two hours away. We start daybreak, easily catch them. They trying take all mares, delays them.'
'I'll ride now to ask Hamish,' Jamie said, and was gone almost before he'd finished speaking.
Flora had been restoring the cabin to normal, and soon after Jamie left she crept into bed. Atonsa rolled himself into a blanket and occupied the spare palliasse near the fire. When Jamie returned he slid into bed beside Flora, and she wanted more than anything to curl up against him, feel his arms round her, and draw comfort from him.
Jamie shook her awake at dawn.
'Come, Flora, I mean to take you to Bruce's before we leave. You mustn't remain here alone.'
She shivered. 'But there's work to do. The cow needs milking. If Patrick was killed the day before yesterday, he wouldn't have milked her that night or yesterday morning. She'll be desperate. Or did you do it last night? I was too shocked to even think about her.'
'The cow has wandered away. Or been taken, though Atonsa says he saw no tracks. You can't do anything.'
'You must eat first.'
The fire was soon stoked with fresh wood, and she served the porridge which had been left to cook overnight, while she fried some slices of bacon in the skillet. There was no time for oatcakes. The men ate swiftly, anxious to be gone, and she was given no time to do more than bank down the fire before they hurried her to the safety of Bruce's house.
She spent an hour with Isabella and Meg, telling them about the invasion of York, and fretting. Ought she to go and tell Brendan about his brother? He wouldn't know. Then Meg looked up from where she was playing with the children and exclaimed in surprise.
'Andrew! I thought you were with the army.'
Andrew, wearing a rather dirty red army coat, was mounted on a small bay pony. His legs were so long they almost touched the ground.
'I'm on my way to York, with despatches,' he said.
'But, the army have left York,' Flora said. 'I don't suppose the news will have reached you yet.' She explained, and Andrew sighed. 'Then I suppose I'll have to ride further. They'll have fallen back on Kingston, no doubt. Where's Jamie, Flora? I need to speak to him.'
At that moment they heard from the direction of the lake the mournful lowing of a cow, and Flora started up eagerly.
'That must be our cow! Jamie? Oh, someone let our horses out, he's trying to find them. I must go a
nd see to her, she'll be so full of milk, poor thing.'
'I'll come and help,' Andrew said, and began to walk beside her.
Flora stopped abruptly. 'No, thank you, Andrew. Jamie probably won't be back for hours, so you'd far better ride straight for York.'
He looked at her, then turned away. 'I'm sorry, Flora. I see you don't trust me, and I can't really blame you. I was mad that time. But I understand. I'll leave you alone.'
He climbed onto the pony's back and with a wave to Meg set off. Flora followed him slowly to the main track, and watched as he rode out of sight. Then another plaintive call from the cow sent her hurrying along the track to their cabin.
The cow was standing by the door of her barn, her udders monstrously disgorged. Flora found a halter and tied her in the usual place, then fetched a bucket and stool and sat down. She crooned a Scottish tune which seemed to soothe the animal as she rhythmically drew down the milk.
When she was finished she picked up the bucket, frothing with warm, creamy milk, and turned to take it across to the cabin. As she came out of the barn strong hands seized her arms, pulling them with cruel force behind her back. The bucket fell to the ground, splashing milk all over her feet and those of her captor, who uttered a furious oath as he pushed her towards the cabin.
Flora opened her mouth to scream, but a hand was clamped over it.
'Don't try. No one will hear you, and it will only be worse for you if you don't do as I say.'
It was Andrew. She understood what had happened. He'd only pretended to leave, and had doubled back. Furiously she began to think as he hustled her towards the cabin. Jamie would be gone for hours, and unless Meg or someone came to see why she was taking so long to milk the cow, there was no hope of rescue. She had to find a way of escape by herself.
He thrust her into the cabin and closed the door, then as he released her he pushed her across the room so that she stumbled against the table.
Flora swung round to face him, more angry than afraid. 'Have you come to try and rape me again?' she demanded.
He laughed. 'If only I had time, my sweet. But I don't have time for pleasuring you. I want those jewels your damned husband stole from me.'
Flora stared at him in utter amazement. 'He stole them from you? Are you crazy? You stole them, on the ship, from me! And Jamie won them back fairly! Which is more than you deserved.'
As she spoke she was edging towards the table near the fire, where she prepared their food. If only she could grab the big, sharp knife she used for skinning the rabbits and other furry animals, she might hold him off and escape through the door.
He saw her intention and sprang forward. She lunged for the knife, but he pushed her and sent her sprawling. As she fell she hit the side of her face on one of the logs stacked ready to feed the fire, and felt a trickle of blood start from just beside her eye, and run slowly down her face. At least it wasn't her eye, she thought at the back of her mind, but mainly she was boiling with fury, at him for his treatment of her, at herself for having been too slow to reach the knife.
'Get up,' Andrew ordered. 'I'm hungry. You can cook me a meal.'
Slowly she struggled to her feet, fighting down her anger. It would do no good for him to sense it. If he did, he would enjoy his power over her even more. He strolled negligently to sit on a bench, all the while playing with the knife, twisting it round his fingers. She had no illusions that he would hesitate to use it if she tried to escape. She would have to pretend, and maybe there would be a chance later on. At least she seemed to be in no immediate danger if she obeyed him.
'What do you want?' she said sharply. 'There's some porridge left, or I'll do some bacon. That's all I have.'
He glanced at the side of bacon hanging in the corner. 'I don't think I want to see you with a knife, cutting that,' he said with a laugh. 'Give me the porridge, and while I'm eating that you can get me the jewels.'
She swung the cauldron over the fire, and as she stirred the porridge looked consideringly at it.
'Where are they?'
The quietly spoken words came from just behind her shoulder. Andrew had risen silently and was standing within inches of her. She shivered. How could she ever have been attracted to him, permitted his kisses to move her at all? Now all she felt was revulsion. It was stronger, even, than fear. If she thought it would free her of him she might give him the jewels, but she knew he would not be satisfied with them.
'Did you steal the horses too?'
'Forget the horses. They're more trouble than they're worth. I came for the jewels, but as you weren't here, and Eliza told me you were gallivanting in York, I knew you'd have them with you. We may keep the stallion, but we took the horses to entice your man away from you. Where do you keep them?'
'In a safe place,' she replied coldly. 'You killed Patrick, then. Is that what the army's taught you, to kill and thieve?'
'I'm done with the army. I'll have those jewels and go back to Quebec. I might even go to England. Where are they? Tell me if you don't want to be hurt.'
'Find them yourself.'
He turned away. 'Very well. If you won't tell me, I'll do that. I'm not leaving without them.'
First he threw everything out of the chest, scattering the clothes she had stored there until winter was over. She forced herself to remain silent as he tossed her light muslin gowns onto the floor, trampling carelessly on them as he moved to the cupboard where other things were stored. He found the trinket box at the back of one shelf and gave a crow of triumph.
'Not so well hidden,' he said, grinning at her as he came back to the table and tipped out the contents. Then his smile faded, and in disgust he swept the bead necklaces onto the floor.
'Where are they, you bitch?'
She ignored him, and in fury he attacked the palliasses, ripping the sacking covers with the knife and pulling out the straw. Suddenly he began to sneeze as the straw dust flew up into his face. He groped his way to the table and sat down on the bench, coughing and sneezing, but still holding the knife towards her as he fought to regain control.
'Here's your porridge,' Flora said calmly, fighting back her own urge to cough. She carried a bowl to the table, then lifted the heavy cauldron and took it across too.
'There's too little to spoon out,' she explained, tipping the cauldron on its side. He moved slightly, and she gave a little shriek.
'Oh, look, there's a rat!'
Momentarily he was distracted, and Flora lifted the cauldron and jammed it down on his head, completely covering his face. Hot porridge flowed over his shoulders, and he screamed in agony, dropping the knife as he tried to lift the cauldron away from his face. A spot of the hot porridge fell on Flora's hand and she winced in sympathy, but hung grimly on to the handle, pulling it down with all her strength as she stretched out for the knife.
With a gasp of triumph she reached it, and pressed the point into his neck.
'If you let me tie your hands I'll take it off,' she said calmly.
He went on struggling, and she suddenly realised he would not be able to hear her. She giggled, slightly hysterical, and wondered how she could possibly tie him up with one hand while she threatened him with the knife. She'd have to make him believe she would kill him.
Forcing herself to do it, she moved the knife to a fleshier part of his neck, where it joined his shoulder. She had no wish to really kill him, but a small wound might keep him quiet for long enough.
She pressed the point into his flesh, trembling slightly as it bit, and the blood began to ooze out. Andrew went rigid, and stopped struggling. She dared not move away, but he had himself provided her with the means of tying him up. She reached for the gowns he had tossed to the floor, and pulled a muslin one towards her. A pity, it had been one of her favourites.
She twisted it into a sort of rope, and holding the knife pressed into place with her shoulder against the hilt, dragged Andrew's hands together behind his back. He was moaning softly now, and offered little resistance. Guiltily she knew th
e hot porridge must be causing him agonies, but she was determined he was not going to win again.
She had to let go the knife while she pulled the improvised rope tight and tied it, but by now Andrew was incapable of fast movement. With another gown she tied his feet to the legs of the bench, and then, at last, pulled the cauldron from his head. It was a struggle, and he screeched to her not to pull his ears off as well.
'You slut!' he spat at her as soon as his mouth was free of porridge.
'If you abuse me I'll go away and leave you here,' she threatened.
He was silent. His face was red from the heat, and porridge matted his hair and dripped onto his shoulders, mingling with the blood from the knife wound. She surveyed him calmly, then went to fill a bowl with some of the cold water in the bucket beneath the cooking table.
He flinched and swore as she cleaned the mess off his face. The skin was already blistering in places, but she knew the cold water would sooth some of the pain.
'I have herbs here which will help,' she told him curtly as she reached for her medicine box, kept on a high shelf near the chimney.
Flora unrolled some linen and selected some dried leaves. As she replaced the roll in the box she patted the thicker roll beneath it. Her pearls were safe there.
She was smoothing a balm onto his face when the door behind her swung open.
Startled, at once apprehensive it might be another enemy, she swung round.
'What the devil's that fellow doing here with you?' Jamie demanded.
***
They'd borrowed Brendan's small waggon. Andrew, more securely tied with ropes, was put unceremoniously on the floor of it, with his companion, brought in by Jamie. Patrick's body, decently shrouded with one of Flora's best sheets, lay beside them.
'I'll stop just for his mother to bid him farewell,' Hamish said wearily. 'It will go hard with her.'
'Will there be magistrates in York?' Flora asked. She did not wish to think of Andrew's likely fate.
'Only the army retreated, from what you said. I'd best be off if I'm to reach there tonight.'
To A Far Country Page 21
