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The men raced from the house and the part of William he could not suppress—the soldier he would always be—surged to the forefront, giving commands as they parted ways to ready their mounts. “If the murderer is on foot, he’ll be easy to catch. On horseback, it could be impossible.” He looked up. “The sky is darkening. Be ready to ride.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The front door was locked.
William jostled the handle and rammed his fist against the door. “Anna, let me in.”
When the door finally opened, Anna’s face was as white as the flour on her hands. “What’s happened?”
He rushed in and hurried to the mantel, yanking his musket from its perch, then snatched the powder horn and lead balls he’d made two nights before.
He spoke as he flung the strap of munitions over his shoulder. “You are to go to the Watson’s immediately.”
Her arms dropped to her side. “What is it? What’s happened?”
“I will tell you when I return.” Taking her by the arm, he led her outside. “Run and do not stop until you reach their door.”
She nodded and turned, but his fingers refused to release her. Anna flung him a look, eyes wide with fear.
He should run with her, make sure she was safe, but his duty was elsewhere. God, please stay with her…
Her brow puckered and he finally spoke. “All will be well.”
His words seemed to smooth the depth of the creases but not eliminate them. She studied him. “I pray it will.”
Aye, pray. “I shall return. Now go quickly.”
Grabbing a fist-full of skirt, Anna ran toward the Watson’s just as Joseph and Thomas arrived on horseback. Thomas scowled, looking after Anna. “Where is she going?”
William yelled over his shoulder as he raced to the barn for his mount. “To your home.”
When he returned, astride his saddled horse, Nathaniel had arrived, two pistols strapped to his chest and a musket across his lap. “Ready?”
“Aye,” William answered.
The animals tossed their heads and stepped side to side. William looked to the wood and snapped a curse between his teeth. “This fog will do us no good.”
A low mist had begun to blanket the forest with a thick curtain of white. ’Twas just the sort of cover a fugitive praised and a hunter despised.
He yanked on the reins and motioned for the men to follow. “Thomas and Joseph, take the road. Nathaniel, follow beside the creek and I’ll take the wood.”
Each man nodded in turn and kicked their mounts, disappearing into the gathering fog.
William’s chest burst as he recalled the young boy’s pale skin, his pleading eyes. A vice-like grip on the reins, William prodded his animal forward but the fading light and heavy white that encircled him made a swift journey impossible. His muscles ached to induce the same fear in the killer’s face as he’d seen in the child’s. If only he could be found.
William trained his ears upon every snap, every rustle, every scratch that might echo through the trees, but the fog seemed to deaden the air. An eerie silence loomed as the sun stole another bit of its light. Lord, let me find him.
The horse’s ears perked and William tugged on the reins, bringing the animal to a quick halt. He’d heard it too, a tiny brush against the ground not three yards distant. He barely breathed, praying that the sound was evidence his prey was within reach of his musket’s ball.
Sensing a pair of unseen eyes trained on their approach, the hairs on William’s neck pricked and his blood charged faster in his veins. A familiar sensation expanded in his stomach, turning it to granite.
He was not alone.
Every creak of leather as he dismounted seemed loud as cannon fire and William berated himself for not having ventured on foot. Ghostly billows of fog drifted round like a haunting apparition.
Utter silence.
William pursed his lips and scanned the dark pillars that surrounded him. He’d heard something, no doubt. But had he—
