“There isn’t.” He pointed south to where a plume of smoke rose against the grey sky. “That could be Penharrow’s men. If they’re tracking us, they’re close. We cross here or we’re caught.”
Webb, pale and sweating despite the cold morning air, peered down at the churning water. “That’ll kill us faster than Penharrow will.”
“Not if we’re careful.” Oliver was already assessing the crossing, the width of the river, the speed of the current, the potential handholds on the far bank. “There’s a rope in my saddlebag. We string it across, use it as a guideline.”
“And if the rope doesn’t hold?” Megan asked.
Oliver met her eyes. “Then we swim very fast.”
It took twenty minutes to prepare. He secured one end ofthe rope around a sturdy tree and tied the other around his waist. Just enough to span the crossing, if his estimate was right.
“If I make it,” he told Webb, “I’ll secure the far end and signal. You bring Megan across. If I don’t?—”
“You’ll make it,” Webb said. “You’re too bloody stubborn to drown. Besides, your horse swims well. Sitting atop him, if the horse falls let it go. They’ll find their way across to the bank, but it may be further downstream. We’ll just have to go find them.”
Oliver almost smiled. He turned to Megan, who stood with her arms wrapped around herself, watching the river with barely concealed terror.
“Can you swim?”
“No. There was a pond on the estate. Sometimes, when Penharrow was away, I would paddle—” She stopped. Shook her head. “But not in anything like this.”
“You won’t have to. Just let the horse swim under you, but hold the rope, keep your head above water. Webb will have you across.”
She looked at Webb’s shoulder, at the careful way he was holding it, and then back at Oliver. “His shoulder isn’t strong enough to hold me too. I’ll come across on my own. That way all three horses get across too.” A pause. “You will come for me if I get swept away?”
“Of course.”
Something flickered on her face. She gave a small nod.
Oliver kicked his horse forward, and they waded into the river.
The cold hit him like a physical blow, driving the air from his lungs. The current immediately pulled at his horse’s legs, trying to sweep them downstream. He softly encouraged the frightened animal using the rope to maintain his balance.
Halfway across, the riverbed dropped away.
Suddenly his horse was swimming, fighting the current, therope around his waist pulling taut. His cavalry boots filled with water and were lead weights making him heavier on his horse.
Then his horse found the ground and cambered up the bank, safely on the other side.
Megan was cheering as he tied his horse to the nearest tree. It was small and barely audible, but it was there. Genuine joy at his survival. Oliver looked back across the river and saw her standing at the edge with one hand pressed to her mouth and her eyes bright.
He secured the rope around a boulder and signaled to Webb.
The former sergeant edged his horse into the torrent, and they came across with grim determination despite his wounded shoulder. The current caught them twice, nearly sweeping his horse away, but the animal was as determined as Webb as he held onto the rope. When he reached the far bank Oliver clapped the horse on its rump and turned to encourage Megan.
“Your turn!” Oliver called across to Megan.
She sat frozen at the water’s edge. Even from this distance he could see her trembling.
“Megan! You can do this!”
But she shook her head and her horse got restless. “I can’t!”
Behind her, through the treelined, the dust plume was closer.
Oliver decided. He plunged into the river.
The current fought him every inch of the way, but he had the rope to guide him, pulling himself along hand over hand. When he reached the far bank Megan was staring at him as though he’d lost his mind.
