Border Fire(39)

"Ye can come along if ye like, but ye'd be safer here. Tis dark and 'tis off the usual track and not easily stumbled on by them wha' dinna ken it fine."

What he was thinking, she knew, was that he would fare better without her. He was more accustomed than she was to moving quietly when an enemy was at hand. She was rapidly coming to a new assessment of her prowess, and she did not much like it. Suppressing an unexpected shiver of fear at being left, she said, "Go then, Tip. I'll stay with the horses. What do I do if I see someone?"

"Ye'll no stay wi' the ponies," he said. "We'll draw them well into the brush, and ye'll keep low under cover a wee distance awa'. That road, if someone should stumble over them, they willna find ye as weel."

His tone was matter-of-fact, but his words shot another shiver up Janet's spine. Her courage had fled, and she was not certain that she would recover it. Moments later, she was alone in the dark. The mist had thickened, casting a veil across the moon. Its pale glow still shimmered through, barely illuminating objects on the ground, but she could not see as well as she had earlier.

Telling herself that she was safer in the dimmer light did not help, for she could no longer see Tip. She had lost sight of him almost immediately, and she could discern no stirring of shrubbery or other movement or sound that betrayed his whereabouts. He might as well have been a ghost that had vanished. If he were captured or had already been captured, she would not know until he failed to return.

Just the thought gave her new shivers. What would she do? She could not be certain that Quinton would return the way he had gone. He was as likely to make for the Kershopefoot crossing. Indeed, that was the very reason that her anxieties had stirred, because she feared that Hugh would capture him again and hang him before anyone even knew that Hugh had taken him.

Gritting her teeth, she told herself to stop being such a fool. Her instincts had told her to follow, and she had. She would be at hand when she was needed. She knew it-or so she assured herself.

Minutes dragged into longer minutes, till it seemed as if hours had passed. Common sense told her it had not been as long as that, that time simply had slowed to a crawl. She must not let impatience stir her to do anything foolish. Still, each minute dragged until twenty of them seemed like a year.   





 

Listening, all she could hear was the nearby burn bubbling and sloshing over rocks and boulders as it tumbled downhill to join the Tyne at Kielbeck. What was happening there, she did not know, nor could she. If only, she thought, she could turn off her thinking, could just sleep with her eyes open, so that she would see any danger that came but would not imagine any that would not come.

Movement in nearby brush startled her. She nearly scrambled up to see what it was, then told herself firmly that it was naught but one of the horses moving. Logic told her, however, that the horses were too far away. She might hear a whicker if one were so forgetful of its training as to make that much noise, but she would not hear it if it simply moved a little. The noise came again.

Janet flattened herself to the ground, willing the bushes around her to cover her completely.

"They've been this way, rot their devilish hides, and not long ago, neither."

Stifling a gasp at the sound of the man's voice only paces away, she flattened more and tried to inch her way under the nearest bush.

At that very moment, a large foot came down upon her calf, and she failed to stifle a cry of pain.

"Well, well, well, what have we got here?"





Chapter 14


"The English rogues may hear, and drie

The weight o' their braid swords to feel."

THOUGH JANET WISHED SHE could disappear into the earth, she sat up and brushed off her hands, then nearly held one out for the man to help her up before she recalled her disguise. Remembering, she got slowly to her feet, fearing that if she got up too quickly he might knock her down again.

"Ye frighted me, sir," she said, trying to make her voice sound low and common, and succeeding only in making it sound gruff.

"What the devil are ye doin' here, lad? I might as easily have spit ye through as stepped on ye."

"I thank ye for doing nowt o' the sort," she said. Though it was her nature to stand straight and look directly at people, she kept her eyes lowered and let her shoulders slump, knowing that it would make her look smaller and less threatening.

"What ha' ye found there, Gibby?"

A second man approached, and the one called Gibby said, "Just a lad out on the prowl, Lem. Tell me, lad, ha' ye seen any raiders the night?"

"Nay, sir," Janet said. "I'm shamed to tell ye something spooked my pony when I were riding half asleep. Might ha' been raiders, though I think 'twas naught but a night bird's call."

The newcomer came nearer, leading two ponies by their reins, and Janet watched him warily from the corner of one eye, sizing him up. She did not think Gibby would notice her interest in his companion. The light was not strong enough for him to perceive that she was not still looking at the ground.

The one called Lem looked taller and much thinner than Gibby, for Gibby's shadowy figure seemed almost square. There was not enough light to see their faces clearly, but Lem sported a pointy beard and Gibby looked clean-shaven, albeit a trifle scruffy.

A rustle in nearby shrubbery made both men jump, but when no other sound rose above the bubbling of the burn, they returned their attention to Janet.

She wondered where Tip had gone and hoped that he would not make his presence known if he came back while the two were still with her. He was unarmed, just as she was, but for her dagger, and he would be of little help to her.

"Where d'ye hail from, lad?" It was the second man, Lem, who asked.

"Brackengill," she said instantly. "What of ye? Be ye land sergeant's men?"

"Aye, from Bewcastle," Lem said. "Brackengill, eh? Who's your master?"

"Sir Hugh Graham," she said, as if surprised that he would ask. "D'ye no ken the man?"

Gibby said, "I saw him once. He's a big man, Sir Hugh is, wi' a fearsome temper to match his size."

"Aye," Janet agreed. The two clearly were not Grahams then. She had thought they could not be, but with a clan so large, and with members living on both sides of the line, she did not know them all.

"Let's ha' a closer look at ye, lad," Lem said, and before Janet realized his intent, he snatched the knitted cap from her head. "Christ's foot," he exclaimed when her long, silvery-blond hair spilled free, "he's a wench!"

Grabbing for the cap, she cried, "Give that back!"

"Oh, aye, sure," Lem said, laughing and twitching the cap up out of her reach. "What the devil is a wee lass like yourself doing out in the night like this?"

"I … I came to meet someone," she said, hoping that he would leave her be if he believed that another man was coming. "He's as large as Sir Hugh," she added.   





 

"Is he now? I warrant he'll share his good fortune though, or will he not?"

"No!" She tried to run, but Gibby caught her arm.

His grip was tight, but he said, "We should let her go, Lem. The sergeant willna like it an we dawdle wi' her."

"He won't mind if we take him the wee lass as a gift," Lem said.

"How dare you!" Janet exclaimed. "I'll have you know that I am-"

About to identify herself as sister to Sir Hugh Graham, she bit off the words. The likelihood of Hugh's hearing about the incident was too great if she proclaimed their relationship, and that would do her no good. Moreover, it occurred to her that they might take her straight to him in hopes of a reward, and that was the last thing she wanted. Hugh would not hesitate to hold her for ransom if he thought it would embarrass Sir Quinton or Buccleuch. Indeed, he would relish the chance.

"Well, lass, who are ye then?" Lem's tone was matter-of-fact, even kindly, but when she did not answer, he said, "I thought as much. If ye'll no tell us your name, we must assume that ye dinna hail from Brackengill as ye claim but are one wi' them thievin' Scots. Who did ye ride with?"

"No one," she said miserably. "I came here on my own and lost my horse just as I told you. No one else knows that I am here."

Lem chuckled. "Ye followed your man, did ye? Ye ha' more courage than sense, lassie. I think ye'll make our sergeant a fine gift, but mayhap we should just test that to see if ye'll be worth his sport."

Appalled at his obvious intent, she jerked away and tried to free herself from Gibby, but Lem caught her free wrist and yanked her toward him.

Gibby let go before she was stretched between the two of them. "Lem," he said anxiously, "I dinna think-"

"Hush your gob, lad. A chance like this does not come to a man every day. She's a wee winsome one in breeks, is she not? I've a mind to see her without them, though, and I'll warrant ye won't mind taking your turn when I'm done wi' her."

Janet tried to scream, but the sound caught in her throat, and before she could force it free, Lem had clapped a filthy hand over her mouth, stifling any second attempt. His other hand grabbed the front of her jerkin. She grabbed for her dagger.

"Mind her feet, Gib," Lem warned when she struggled, "and get them breeks off her. Quick now!"

Quin and the others, having struck swiftly and without warning, had successfully taught the citizenry of Kielbeck a lesson in raiding. Hob the Mouse and Willie Bell swept the livestock from the green in a trice and were driving them swiftly toward the Larriston Fells. They had taken no sheep, but they had taken every horse and cow in the village, many of which they recognized as their own from earlier raids on Liddesdale and Upper Teviotdale.