She watched James, then watched Billy carry logs to the fireplace.
What to do?
She continued to watch James, and finally, she saw his hand move. She felt such relief she nearly shouted. She had the feeling he was looking at the men, his eyes barely slit open. He was thinking, trying to figure out what to do.
It was so cold now she was ready to tear a strip off her gown and go into the warm cottage waving a white flag.
She gritted her teeth, waited. The three men were speaking low, of nothing at all, really. She saw Augie rise and go check on James. “Still out, our boy is. I don’t like this. We’re to give ’im off to the bloke wot’s paying us our groats and give ’im off alive.”
“Ye think this bloke’ll slit ’is throat, or ransom ’im?”
Augie shrugged. “Don’t know. Ain’t none o’ our business. Mighty ’andsome young man, ’e is though, ’tis a pity whatever ’appens to ’im.”
She watched Augie check the ropes that bound James’s wrists and ankles. At least they’d tied his hands in front of him. Augie walked back to the fireplace where the two men were stretching out on the floor. “Aye, I knows I gots the first watch. Billy, I’ll roust ye in two ’ours.”
And Augie sat in a chair, looking at the fireplace. He looked all toasty warm, the bastard.
It was time. She had to do something. She smiled. As she skirted the back of the cottage, she saw now that the cottage was only about thirty yards from a cliff that gave onto a narrow dark beach. She ran to the shed and crept in. It was small and ramshackle. There were some old blankets piled in one corner, some farm implements, and piles of moldy hay. One of the bays lifted his head, but he didn’t whinny, just snorted, thank God. She patted his great head, and he blew into her hand. “You’ll suit me, my beauty, and your brother there will do nicely for James,” she said against his warm mane. She saw that Augie had given them each a bucket of oats and water. Good. Now, all she had to do was get James out of that miserable cabin. She sorted through the rusted tools, stopped, and smiled.
James watched Augie walk back to sit in his chair. Soon Billy and Ben would be asleep. But how to get to Augie without waking the others? Could he take all three men?
He wasn’t sure. His head ached, but other than that he felt all right. He knew he had to get his feet free, then he’d have a chance. But Augie would notice if he sat up and began working the knot around his ankles. He settled for loosening the knots around his wrists. Thank God they believed he was still unconscious, otherwise they would have tied his hands behind him, likely tied him to the bed as well. It was then he caught a flash of movement. He looked at the dirty window behind Augie’s back. He saw something white waving back and forth, like a truce flag.
He blinked and refocused. Yes, it was still there. Augie’s head was slowly falling forward on his chest.
James saw a face.
Corrie.
He stared at her as he slowly raised his hand so she could see that he had his wits together. He wiggled his fingers.
He saw that grin of hers, white teeth shining through the dirty windowpane across the room.
Then she was gone. She was going to do something, and whatever she was planning, he had to be ready.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
One good head is better than a hundred strong hands.
THOMAS FULLER
HIS EARS WERE on alert. He heard something on the roof, a light scurrying sound, or perhaps it was a branch of a tree swishing against the wood.
No, that was no tree nor animal up there. It had to be Corrie, light on her feet, but what was she doing? His brain seized up at thoughts of how she’d gotten here.
His question was answered in the next instant as smoke started billowing out of the fireplace. She’d bought him time to get the ropes off his ankles. James immediately sat up and began working the ropes. It took a couple of minutes before Augie, Billy, and Ben began coughing, and by then, the room was filling up fast with smoke.
Augie jumped out of his chair, yelling, “Boys, it’s fire! Tar and damnation, this jest ain’t fair! Quick, quick, we gots to grab up our cove and git out o’ this bloody ’ell ’ole!”
In that instant, the cottage door burst open and a furious, whinnying horse pounded into the room, rearing, snorting, Corrie on his back, aiming a pitchfork right at Ben, who was standing closest to her, struck dumb with shock and horror.
Then all three of the men were yelling, trying to get out of the room, trying to avoid the horse and the pitchfork, its long tongs rusted but still sharp. Ben wasn’t fast enough. She got him through the arm. He yelled and pulled out his gun, but James was on him, his leg slicing through the air, his foot kicking that gun right out of Ben’s hand. Then James was rolling to get the gun as Augie fired at him. Corrie and the horse turned and rode Augie down, sending his gun flying toward the door. Augie was crawling as close to the wall as he could get, toward the open doorway and into the night. At the last minute he managed to snag the gun and stuff it into his pants.
The horse was maddened by the smoke, and wanted out. “James, throw me one of the guns!”
He grabbed Billy’s gun right out of his hand and threw it to her as she stuck the pitchfork into the wall and rode out of the cottage on the horse.
James had only Billy to tend to, and it was easily done despite the choking, blinding smoke.
He was leaping over Billy, stopping just a moment to lean down and smash his fist into his jaw.
Corrie was sitting bareback atop the horse, the other bay just behind, waiting for him. She was covered in soot, grinning like a fool. “Hurry, James, hurry!” Even as she spoke, Augie fired from the cottage door, and the bullet whizzed by the horse’s ear. The horse jerked back and reared on his hind legs, hurling Corrie to the ground. Both horses reared and bucked, running madly back along the rutted road, away from the cottage, and away from them.
James cursed as he ran to Corrie. She was struggling to her knees. “We’ve got to hurry, Corrie. Sorry, but no horses. Can you walk? Are you badly hurt?”
“Oh dear, there’s Ben, holding his arm. I got him with the pitchfork. Let’s go, James. I’m all right.”
Each of them held a gun in one hand, James nearly dragging her after him. They ran into the woods that bordered the narrow road. There was a gunshot, more yelling-this one out of Ben’s mouth-if James wasn’t mistaken, since he was screaming about how the bitch stuck his arm with that nasty pitchfork.
Well, the three bastards had only one gun and no horses. He and Corrie were better off. He wanted to go back and pound them, but he wouldn’t be surprised if they had more guns. He didn’t think they did, but who knew how Augie’s brain worked?
They ran through the woods, tripping over roots, until he couldn’t hear any of the men yelling anymore.
“Hold, Corrie. Let’s wait a minute.”
She was breathing hard, gulping in air, and nearly fell against a pine tree, her arms wrapped around her chest, the gun dangling from two fingers.
James stood there, staring at her. Her once white ball gown was black with smoke and soot, ripped and grimy, one sleeve hanging by a thread. Her hair was streaming in wild tangles down her back and onto her face. She was still grinning at him, all white teeth against the black face, still panting hard.
James laughed, he couldn’t help himself. “Well done,” he said and grabbed her hand. “They’ve got to come after us, although I can’t imagine how they’re going to do it. Ben’s got your pitchfork tong through his arm and he won’t be good for much. Damn, I wish I knew how many guns they have.”
“If they catch those wretched horses, we might be in deep trouble again, James. I saw that lead horse run off the road and head toward the cliffs, out in the open, where we can’t go.”