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“He will camp soon, somewhere as deep into these woods as that old dirt road will take him. Follow it—that is where I will be, keeping watch.”
“You don’t know that he will stop soon,” Donna wailed.
“I do. This road hasn’t been used in a very long time. No doubt it will end abruptly. He knows it. He knows he won’t be seen if he takes it to its end. That is where I will be.” Bess eyed her friend. “Hurry now—go and get them and be sure they are armed. I do believe we are dealing with the worst kind of blackguard—a desperate one.”
“Come with me, Bess. You don’t have to stay here and watch the wagon. You don’t—why should you?” Donna was near tears.
“In case he decides to move off, I will be on hand to follow them, and I will leave you clues to find us. Trust me, Donna, I know what I am doing.”
“But if he sees you? Drat it all. I usually carry my little pistol in my saddle bag, but Robby took it out the other day to stuff my saddle bag with another sandwich.”
Bess smiled. “Yes, he did the same with mine, but I put my pistol back in my saddle bag when he was done.” Bess grinned proudly. “Papa taught me that if I was going to ride about the countryside without a groom, I must learn to shoot and always carry my gun, just like a wild American pioneer.”
“Faith, Bess, you are one of a kind, but you aren’t a wild American pioneer, and if he is as ruthless as you say …” Donna wailed.
“Go on now, hurry,” Bess threw back at her.
“Right then. I am off. It will take me about an hour to get back, and another hour to get the men, get a fresh horse, and get back here, Bess, two hours. Dusk will be setting in. Oh, Bess, do stay hidden. Please, promise me that much.”
“I faithfully promise to stay hidden. Now ride like the wind.” Bess laughed and shooed her friend off.
A few moments later, with the Gypsy wagon well ahead, she followed its tracks along the road. It was fairly easy, for it was a straight road without any turn-offs.
It wasn’t long until she realized that the road had narrowed to not much more than an old wagon track, much as she had surmised it would.
She urged her horse into the woods and quietly made her way towards the wagon, keeping enough of a distance so that she would remain hidden by the lush growth of evergreens. She dismounted and led her horse to a patch of grass, where she tethered him to a tree. He was able to pick at the grass and remained quiet as she took up position to watch.
The Gypsy had parked his caravan and was busy making camp.
Bess shook her head silently and ruefully to see the old Gypsy fortune teller, the very one who had read her fortune, come out of the wagon with the young boy in tow.
The boy’s hands were tied at his back. The fortune teller kicked him and made him sit against the wagon wheel, bound his ankles together, and then used a length of rope to bind him to the wagon wheel.
Bess wanted to pull the woman off the child and, as the earl would say, ‘land her a facer’.
The old woman went back inside her caravan while the Gypsy man, who Bess decided was her son, went about the business of seeing to his horses.
He tenderly cared for them, led them to the bubbling brook that passed through the clearing into the forest, and allowed them to drink before he returned them to the grassy patch near his wagon. He then hobbled them so that they were able to slowly graze but could not run off.
The old woman appeared again and pointed a bony finger at the boy, no doubt as a warning, as she removed the gag from his mouth and gave him a sip of water that spilled about his chin and down his clothing.
No sooner did he have his sip of water but the boy, full of spit and fire, shouted at the top of his young lungs, “HELP!”
The woman hauled off and smacked him with an open hand across his face before stuffing his mouth once more with the dirty rag.
Bess nearly showed herself, gun leveled at that point, but managed to control this instinct. However, she knew she had to do something—she simply had to. This had gone on long enough, and from the viciousness with which the old woman slapped the boy, Bess was certain in the end they meant him the ultimate harm. How could they not? They had not bothered to blindfold him, so he was able to describe them. They knew this.
It didn’t matter to them, because they knew what they intended his fate to be. The question was: when?
She would wait for the opportunity, for Bess genuinely feared they had brought him to this lonely spot to murder and bury him that very night. The old woman had given him a sip of water, though. Was that a good sign? Perhaps, but in the end she would do what she had to do to survive. Bess knew that.
She stuck the small ladies’ pistol her father had given her a few years ago into the pocket of the dark blue velvet skirt of her riding ensemble.
She only took a moment to pause and suck in some fresh air to bolster herself; then she moved to a vantage point where she could hear without being seen and waited.
* * *
The earl knew something was wrong as soon as he saw Maddy’s face. The plump woman wrung her hands and apologized, “My lord, my lady said they were only going out for a short ride, just a ride nearby, she said, but that was well over two hours ago. Two hours, my lord.”
