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“There are about four of them. I think they must be a search party,” he breathed.
The small hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he studied each rider in turn. Although none of them were wearing the jailer’s uniforms, he was fairly certain that they were something to do with Meldrew.
“Could it be our brothers?” She asked hopefully, and tried to peer over his shoulder to get a better look.
“We have to get out of here,” he declared flatly.
He had seen enough to know that the dangers were too high to risk crossing paths with the approaching men. They were just inside the treeline and, unless he was very much mistaken, were studying the hou
se. From the conversation they were having it was evident that they were deciding whether to take a look inside.
Whoever they were, it was highly unusual for them to be riding through the countryside at this time in the morning. It was barely dawn, and still mostly dark outside. Four armed men, out in the middle of nowhere, looking at old and empty buildings, were there for a particular reason, and Charlie had no doubt that that reason was him.
“How?” Hetty challenged. “We have to go out of that door to get to the path. They will see us.”
She tried desperately to keep control of the fear and worry that clawed at her, especially now that she needed to keep her wits about her, but it was difficult with danger on the doorstep.
Charlie had already studied the layout of the house. There was a single door at the back, but no path that would take them to the road. If they used the rear door, they would have to cut across the fields, but at least the horses were well rested. It would be a squeeze for the horses to fit through the narrow doorway, but they had to try. Right now, they were sitting targets.
“Keep a hand on the harnesses so that they don’t make too much noise,” he whispered. He motioned to the door which led to the other side of the house. “We have to go.”
He tried to keep his voice calm so that he didn’t frighten her, but urgency clawed at him. He had no idea if there was another group waiting at the back of the house, and placed a reassuring hand on his gun as he motioned her behind him.
Once they were outside, he waited only until Hetty was settled in the saddle before he quickly mounted his own horse and turned to issue one last set of instructions before they raced for freedom.
“Keep low in the saddle. Don’t sit up again until I say. Let’s go this way.”
Although neither of them had thought about it at the time, he was extremely grateful that they had chosen to stop at a house which was so overrun with bramble and weeds. It provided them with sufficient cover to escape the area without being seen.
Hetty physically shook as they picked their way through the dense foliage. She only risked one quick glance behind them.
The dark figures that approached the front door were deeply disturbing, and faintly haunting. The way they crept stealthily toward the property warned her that they were indeed Meldrew’s men, and were there to recapture, or kill, Charlie.
Charlie followed Hetty, and suddenly bitterly regretted what they had shared last night. She deserved soft, clean sheets followed by a morning in bed to recuperate. He had given her a cold, hard floor that was liberally smattered with weeds, and danger that could result in her death.
If his assessment was accurate, they were about half a day’s ride away from Afferley if they took a direct route to get there. However, because they had no idea if Meldrew’s men were following them, they would have to take a couple of detours now.
By the time they were on the edge of the clearing, Charlie glanced back and watched one of the men disappear into the house.
“Let’s go,” he ordered.
He turned to face forward, glad to be able to leave the intruders behind, only to curse bitterly at the sight that lay before them.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Hetty almost cried aloud at the sight of two gunmen standing directly in their path. The dark garb they wore was almost hidden by the shadows that surrounded them, but the guns they held pointed toward her and Charlie were perfectly visible.
She closed her eyes on a silent prayer, and turned to look at Charlie. “What do we do?” she whispered.
“Get down,” one of the men called.
Charlie stared boldly back at him, but made no attempt to comply.
“Take a shot at me, and he dies,” he declared flatly. He lifted the gun he held and pointed it directly at one of the gunmen.
“Charlie?” Hetty whispered as she eyed the barrels of the guns the men pointed at them.
How could he challenge them at a time like this? She cried desperately. She turned to glare at him, but his gaze was locked firmly on the gunmen.
