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With a howl of pain, he went down. One of his friends stopped to see to him, and then she only had one to fend off. Panting now with exertion, she ran back around the stable and almost tripped on the forms of Chevalier and his man rolling on the ground. First Chevalier was on top, then the other man. But before she could bash the provincial over the head, Chevalier was on top again.
She stumbled past them just as the third man after her rounded the stable. Alex scanned the ground, spotted a rock—not quite as large as she would have hoped—grabbed it, aimed, and hurled it at the man chasing her. He put up a hand, but the rock hit his forearm, and he bent double, clutching his arm in his other hand.
“Tristan!” she called, not wanting to use his surname lest they be identified. “Come on!”
He was on top again, and he looked at her, then down at his opponent. He issued one last blow, then jumped up and heeded her waving hand. Just in time too, because the other two men came around the stable wall, one man clutching his shoulder. Alex was glad she’d wounded him, but annoyed she’d lost her knife. She still had her pistol, but it didn’t do much good if she had no time to stop and prime it for firing.
Fortunately, the men after them had lost the man with the rifle in the stable. They wouldn’t be shot in the back if they ran, which meant running was the best option at the moment. Men always seemed to think they should stand and fight, when most of the time, running was a much more effective method of escape. She lifted her skirts so she could pump her legs harder, and Chevalier was right beside her. He was hardly out of breath, so he might have been able to pass her, but he kept pace with her.
“Now what?” he asked.
“Now we find somewhere to hide,” she managed.
He looked over his shoulder. “They’re right behind us.”
“Then we’d better not stop!” She increased her pace, and he did too. The next time he looked back, he blew out a breath that sounded relieved.
“We lost one of them.”
“Probably the one I wounded with the knife.”
His head swiveled toward her, then back to the road before them. The ground was muddy and slick after the rains, and she stumbled, almost fell, but caught herself just in time. He paused for her, but she waved him on. “Keep going! I’m coming.” She caught up to him, but she knew they couldn’t continue at this pace, especially not in the dark when she couldn’t see the hazards in their path. A group of trees was ahead. Alex looked over her shoulder. Two of the five men still pursued them. “Can you climb a tree?” she asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You’ll need to beg it if you can’t climb. We’re going up one of those.” She pointed and started in the direction of the trees.
“I don’t recall ever climbing a tree,” he said, but he followed her.
“It’s like a ladder. Just without rungs.” She knew she sounded more confident than she felt. She didn’t know the last time she’d climbed a tree. It had been years, and she’d had time to tie up her skirts so they’d be out of the way. No time for that now. “Faster!” she yelled, increasing her speed to compensate for the extra time it would take them to climb.
She chose a tree whose branches were low, but not too low. The trunk was split into a V about three feet up. She had no idea what sort of tree it was, but the bark was more smooth than rough. She hadn’t counted on that when she started climbing, and her slippers skidded down a few times before she got purchase and made it to the first branch.
In the meantime, Chevalier was right behind her. He was a good climber, which was fortunate because the men were at the base and reaching up for him just as his foot lifted out of reach. Alex climbed to the next branch, then leaned against the trunk and pulled out her pistol. It wobbled in her hand and she lost her grip, but she shifted, catching it with her knees and grasping it before it could fall to the ground. Chevalier was on the branch below her. “What now?” he asked. “We’re trapped. One can fetch help, while the others keep us here.”
“Give me a moment,” she said, reaching inside her cape and taking hold of the little bag where she kept her powder and balls. She wished she had practiced more in the dark, but Dewhurst had made her do it enough times that she had a good feel for the actions. Smoothly, she tapped powder into the barrel, inserted a ball, and snapped the frizzen into place.
The provincials were at the bottom of the tree, heads together when she cocked the hammer. That got their attention.
“Citoyens!” she called. “I have a pistol, and I’m a fair shot. Either go home now or the next time your family sees you, it will be at your funeral.”
The two men retreated, but just out of pistol range.
“Now what?” Chevalier asked. “I don’t think they’re too concerned, and if their friends are bringing more of them, we’ll be taken. You can’t shoot a mob.”
She could die trying, but she didn’t want it to come to that any more than he. “Now I give them something to concern themselves with.”
Carefully, she climbed down the tree to one of the lower branches. Fortunately, the tree still had some foliage to conceal her in the dark. Unfortunately, it would also hamper her aim, so she had to move out on one branch where the leaves were sparse and where the branch was thin. She balanced her weight on another branch below. Then she took aim and fired.
The shot did not hit the men. They were definitely out of range, but it was close enough and true enough in its aim that had they been but a few feet closer, one would have been hit. The men shouted and backed further away. Alex loaded the pistol again, then climbed to the ground.
“Let’s go!” she demanded, looking up at him.
“Oh, good. More running,” he muttered.
“And you thought organizing a revolution was difficult. Climb down and run ahead. Hurry!”
He started to protest, but she spoke over him. “You are not leaving me. I have the weapon. You do not. Go and I’ll follow, keeping the pistol trained on them. If I have to shoot, I will. But you keep running, and I’ll catch up.”
