Outside, the summer night air was chilly, and a swift wind blew, threatening to pull off her cap and unwind her knot of hair. Jenny jammed her cap back down on her head, feeling a chill of trepidation race up her spine. The hairs on the back of her neck were suddenly standing on end.
“Dragoons.” She’d barely gotten the word out before the stomp of hooves and chink of metal echoed in the twilight air.
Somehow over the past two years, she’d gotten a sixth sense for the bastards.
“Keep moving,” Toran said, his hand on the small of her back. “Get on your horse.”
Dirk, Mac, and Archie made quick work of untying their mounts.
“You there.” The voice was unmistakable, taking her right back to the courtyard outside their croft, his fetid breath on her skin, rough hands on her body.
Jenny’s hand went to the pistol tucked into her belt beneath her frock coat. She wanted to shoot him dead.
“Leave it. Get on your horse,” Toran instructed under his breath. “Ye know he willna balk at killing ye.”
Not if she got to him first. She hesitated another moment, but Toran whispered her name in warning. She bristled, knowing running was the right decision for now. They were not prepared for an engagement.
Jenny leapt up onto her horse, the saddle sturdy beneath her buttocks, the warmth of the mount’s sides seeping into her calves.
“Stop!” Boyd’s bellow rent the air.
“Ride,” Jenny ordered the men.
They urged their horses into full gallops, leaning over their necks to gain speed. Her cap flew off, hair pulling free of the knot and whipping around her head, threatening to blind her. Behind them a shot rang out, and she waited to feel the shock of a bullet crashing through her skull, but there were only the wind and the pounding of her heart.
None of the men fell off their horses either. Boyd had missed. Thank the saints. They rode harder. The redcoats chased behind, shouting words that carried off on the wind, sounding more like the bellows of angry animals. Another shot. She waited. Nothing.
It was dark out, but still, a man like Boyd didn’t make it to where he was by missing. Was he missing on purpose? He didn’t want them to fall, he wanted to follow them. He wanted to know where they would go when they were running scared.
Jenny yanked the reins to the right and veered sharply off the road, and the men followed. There was no way in hell she was leading them anywhere near Cnàmhan Broch.
They crashed over fields, trampling crops, leaping fences, scattering herds of sheep and cattle in their race to get away. No matter how many sharp turns she took, the dragoons remained close behind. Their long months of chasing Highlanders had taught them some of the tricks. She hated that.
She veered again, to the left this time, taking the men up over a crag. The terrain was treacherous, especially in the dark, but the horses were used to it. She and her men were used to it.
The English, hopefully, would not be.
Up they rode, until they crested the top, and raced along a narrow goat path that was dangerous to ride even in the light. She heard a scream behind them. Someone had fallen. Not one of their own. They didn’t stop. Another crack of a pistol shot. More waiting to see if the bullet struck its mark. More misses.
They rode down into another valley, far now from home, and the first hints of light were coming out hazy purple on the horizon. Dawn would be there soon, and they’d have no way of hiding.
They slowed and dismounted to let the horses cool off. It seemed certain now that the dragoons had not followed after the injury of their man. It would seem they did have some integrity or compassion for their own. Not that it mattered. Their crimes against the Scots were extensive enough as it was. Was it too much to hope it was Boyd who’d fallen?
“I know where we can hide for the day,” Toran said, and Archie glanced at him, giving a short nod. “The Fox Hole. A fortress that used to belong to the Frasers, but it’s been in ruins since I was a lad.”
“Where is it?”
“We’re not far now.”
They remounted, following Toran’s lead. Jenny realized she was trusting he’d not lead them right back to Boyd. Some two hours later they arrived at the castle ruins.