Why had his mother not warned him of that when he was little—that when he did wrong, and followed the wrong path, it would not be only himself he dragged down?
He came around the bend and dropped into the gully with the back of his neck prickling. If the spy knew these woods, they might choose to ride up along the side of the gully and shoot Solomon from above. It was a possibility. They would seize their chance and he would be dead without even a chance to plead for his life. He knew that no one would speak up, for fear of what might be exposed.
Damn this person for learning the truth, and damn Solomon himself for doing what he had done.
No one shot.
He thought he heard the clip of a horse’s hoof behind him once, but he did not look around, and the hoof beats did not draw closer. He could hear the stream though the trees now.
He was close. Solomon rolled his shoulders and his neck, readying himself for the sprint. If he could wait until just before his pursuer was emerging from the gully, he could gain a considerable lead. They would be disoriented.
He could not go until he saw the water in front of him, but when he did, he urged Beauty to a canter, and then at once to a gallop. She protested with a whinny, tossing her head, but Solomon could not afford to listen to her protests. Not now. He urged her down the bank on one side and across the riverbed as fast as she would go, kicking up spray. He was lucky there were no rocks for her to catch her foot, and they thundered up the opposite bank as he heard the other rider break, as well, into a canter.
Let them figure out themselves that there was no way to get a horse up the bank where they were, upstream from him. He urged beauty into the close darkness of the forest and tied her to a tree quickly, his hands shaking with adrenaline. He had only one shot at this. If he doubled back just until they got into the trees, he could knock them from their horse and have the advantage—just long enough to tell the truth.
He crept through the undergrowth, listening to the rider’s hoof beats plod one way and then the other. Did the man realize this had been a trap? Did he know that Solomon knew of the pursuit? He could only hope not. He curled his fingers around a heavy rock. He did not want to hurt this man, for all that he threatened them all. Just make him listen. He would go willingly once this was all over.
The horse snorted nearby and Solomon heard its hooves dance over the ground. What was happening? He lowered his head and closed his eyes, straining to listen. The birds were putting up a riot of sound in the branches, masking whatever words the spy might be muttering to himself. So absorbed was he in listening to the sounds from the beach that he did not hear the man sneaking up behind him.
He heard only the cocking of a pistol, and froze.
“Stand up,” said the light, controlled voice.
“I...” Solomon turned.
“Hello, Mr. Dalton.” The man before him was slight, his red-tinted hair drawn back in a loose ponytail, his clothes not well tailored, but serviceable enough, and made with good cloth. He was all in browns and reds, a perfect camouflage in the forest.
“Who’re you?” Solomon asked, heart pounding.
“I,” the man said, smiling viciously, “am Ambrose Stuart. And you...are a traitor.”
Chapter 5
“Why won’t you eat?” Robert’s voice was harsh as Cecelia turned her face away from the food he offered.
His patience, Jasper sensed, was growing thin.
Robert tossed an angry look at Jasper. “She’ll be no use to us dead.”
“She should be no use to you at all,” Jasper retorted strongly. He knew this was Robert’s weak point. There was nothing that would ever redeem Jasper in Knox’s eyes, but Cecelia was an innocent bystander, and it bothered the man to hurt her. Jasper had to play with that as a feeling. It was his only card.
“She’s here to keep you in line.”
“And then you’ll release her,” Jasper said. “You promised me.”
“Actually, I didn’t.” Robert snorted and spit a bunch of tobacco onto the ground near Cecelia’s skirts.
She wrinkled her nose. She did indeed look pale, Jasper noted. Not well by any standards. She had refused to eat since they left.
Robert spat again. “But you know I’ll not harm her.”
“She must be treated gently.” Jasper had limited bargaining power, but he could try.
“There’s only so softly we can treat her. I’m sure you understand.” His one-time friend shot him an annoyed look.
The answer came to Jasper in a flash. “Well, you’ll have to find something. She’s with child.”
There was a hastily indrawn breath from some of the men, and Cecelia went white, her mouth open in a little O of shock. She stared at Jasper.