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His feet caught on something, and he tripped, sprawling in the dirt. Something was jammed into his knee, which was now throbbing. Blindly, Rafe reached around, and his hand curled around a rifle. That’s right. He had been out shooting with his father and brother. They had split up to get as many wild birds as they could.
Where were they? Surely, his brother hadn’t gone that far, had he? From what Rafe was sure of, they had barely left each other.
That was when he remembered. Richard. He had gone to look for Richard, hoping for a moment alone to apologise. Their friendship was not worth it over a woman who liked to play around with men.
Where was he? Had he come into contact with him?
Then he heard the shouting. It was very close by. Rafe stumbled towards it, his head feeling like it was splitting open. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but whatever was happening had to be bad. Getting to his feet, he made his way gingerly forward.
It didn’t take long for him to reach the scene. Gregory was on his knees beside a fallen body, looking like he was close to hysterics. Whoever was on the ground wasn’t moving, and Gregory was in the way, so Rafe couldn’t see.
Footsteps sounded, and then Sebastien and their father arrived, both carrying pheasants. They stopped when they saw the sight, and Sebastien dropped his rifle, his face going pale.
“No. No, no, no, no!” He ran over, falling to his knees. “Richard, no!”
Richard? Richard had been hurt. Rafe staggered forward, trying not to fall over again as his head pounded.
“What’s happened?”
Gregory stiffened. He looked around, and Rafe saw the dark look in his eyes. Very slowly, his friend’s cousin stood up and moved aside. That was when Rafe saw Richard.
Blood. Lots of it. There was a bullet hole in the side of Richard’s head, his hair matted with blood. There was blood on the ground, and the front of his coat was covered in dirt and twigs. Had Gregory rolled him over?
Rafe’s stomach rolled, and he felt like he wanted to be sick. This couldn’t be happening. Richard couldn’t be dead, surely. No, this was a nightmare.
“Rafe?”
Rafe barely reacted as his father approached him slowly. He was still staring at Richard’s body, his eyes still open and seemed to be staring into the abyss. It was eerie. Rafe jumped when his father touched his arm.
“Rafe, give me the gun.”
“What?”
Rafe looked down. He was holding onto the rifle he had picked up a moment ago. And it was covered in blood.
So were his hands. Something tickled his face, and Rafe wiped his fingers over his cheek. More blood.
There was so much blood…
“Rafe! Wake up!”
Rafe felt someone shaking his shoulder hard, and he was jerked awake. For a wild moment, he had no idea where he was. The rocking didn’t seem to have stopped, and there was a bright light being shone in his eyes. He moaned and shut his eyes again.
“Get that thing away from me.”
“Oh. Right.” The lantern was moved, and Rafe heard it being placed down somewhere. “Open your eyes, Rafe. Are you still there?”
Rafe slowly blinked his eyes open. The rocking was beginning to make him nauseous. And his head really hurt. He focused on the man leaning over him, his vision coming back into focus.
“Charlie?”
“At least you haven’t forgotten my name,” Charlie grunted. He sat on the edge of the bunk. “What happened there? One minute, you were sound asleep, and the next, you were restless and screaming about someone called Richard.”
“Was I?”
“Yes.”
Rafe hadn’t realised he had been talking in his sleep. And he was embarrassed. It had been a while since he had had a nightmare about that day. Ever since they started their travel back to the East Coast and then onto the ship to take them to England, the nightmares had come back.
