Gus frowned.Catch up?
“What do you mean by that? Doesn’t Vincent Marec have her?”
The young man shook his head. “No. She was the one chasing after him. After the château exploded, she took Gobain and galloped off down the road. I noticed she had her rifle in its scabbard as she rode past me. She was going very fast.”
Gus felt sick. Evangeline being a captive in the hands of the Lamballe gang was bad enough, but her going after them was possibly even worse.
A grief-stricken young woman more than capable of handling a rifle was a dangerous thing. If she caught up with Vincent and his men, she could well commit murder.
And in retribution the rest of the gang would kill her.
He took the reins from the stable hand. “Do you have any idea where the Lamballe gang are based? I don’t know the roads around here.”
The lad shrugged. He pointed at the long drive which led toward the main road into Saint-Brieuc. “Go that way. Then at some point on the other side of town, head east. That’s all I know.”
Gus sighed. Locating Evangeline on the labyrinth of roads which crisscrossed the local countryside was going to be a near impossible task. But he had to try.
He had little money. A single pistol in his coat pocket. And the afternoon sun was sinking low in the sky. Captain Grey and theNight Windwould have already sailed out of the river.
Bloody hell. This is a disaster.
A glance back at Armand, who was now being carried to a nearby cart, pushed all doubt aside. He had made a promise to his dying friend. A promise that, no matter how impossible, he had to keep.
“If Evangeline happens to come back, please tell her that I have gone looking for her. I will make for Lamballe and see what clues I can find as to the whereabouts of Vincent Marec and his men.”
He slipped his boot into the stirrup and swung his leg up. As he settled into the saddle, Gus did a quick inventory of his coat pockets. A whisky flask, his pistol, and some other bits and pieces. It would have to do.
With a gentle dig in the horse’s flanks, he was on his way out of Château-de-La-Roche. A prayer was on his lips as he rode.
Please don’t let her find them. She won’t show them mercy.
You will pay with blood and remorse-filled tears; this I vow.
Fury and rage coursed through Evangeline’s veins. It almost blinded her. She could barely see the road ahead for the red veil before her eyes.
“I will kill them all. But Vincent I will save to the end.”
She would make him watch as she put a bullet in every one of his men then turned the rifle on him.
Digging her heels in hard, she urged her mount on. One mile, no sign of them. Two miles, nothing. Then Gobain began to flag. He was a magnificent animal, but even he couldn’t keep up this punishing pace.
Finally, she pulled back on the reins and slowed him to a walk. Gobain was breathing heavily. She reached out and patted his neck. It was damp with sweat. It would be cruel to force the horse to continue at a full gallop.
They had followed the road from the château into Saint-Brieuc and were almost on the other side of the town. She hadn’t made any progress in finding Vincent and his men. Her mad pursuit had come to naught.
Outside a tavern, Evangeline drew up her horse, letting him drink deeply from a nearby water trough. After dismounting, she stood and pondered her predicament.
The blind rage had subsided, and her mind was slowly clearing. Her thoughts for the past hour had centered purely on finding Vincent and wreaking her revenge on him. With no idea as to where he was, doubt now crept in. Hopelessness quickly followed.
Should she go on or give up and return to the château? Armand was surely dead. It was a miracle Vincent had managed to haul himself out of the ruins of the main house. The fire no doubt would have kept burning, the dry, aged wooden beams and floor of the west wing providing perfect fuel for the flames.
There would be little to salvage if she did return home. And who knew what other caches of gunpowder Armand might well have hidden in the house? Only a fool would venture inside.
Gobain continued to hungrily lap up the water. Evangeline’s gaze drifted and settled on her rifle. It had been a gift from her parents on her sixteenth birthday. Her name was engraved on the side.
You packed it; you may as well use it.
Going home would achieve nothing. She had a weapon and ammunition. If she played it smart, she could well take out a number of the Lamballe gang before they knew what had hit them.
