Page 5 of The Hired Hero
Prying frantically at the door’s handle, Caroline opened it just enough to catch a glimpse of the road behind their coach. Two dark riders, blacker than the night, were charging down on them. A brief flash was followed by another bark of a firearm. After that, the coach seemed to gain even more speed. She twisted around but couldn’t catch a glimpse of the driver’s box through the gloom. Then the moon broke through the clouds for a moment and she saw that the horses were out of control. Panicked, they galloped madly ahead, the reins dragging through the mud and ruts. In the next instant, the front wheels gave a dizzying lurch as the coach left the road and careened over rougher terrain. Ahead was…
Nothing.Nothing but an ominous black void.
Caroline had only a split second to make a decision.
Mouthing a silent prayer, she flung herself out the door.
* * *
A searing painshot through her shoulder as she hit the ground hard. The breath was knocked out of her, and the momentum of the fall sent her tumbling down a steep slope. Her head grazed an outcropping of rock, which opened up a jagged gash across her brow. Though she was half dazed, the cacophony of splintering wood and the terrified whinnies of the horses filled her ears.
No, no, no…
She couldn’t seem to stop rolling, sliding, tumbling over more rocks and brush. Brambles tore at her clothing, wet earth clogged her throat.
Finally, her bruised body was snagged on a large gorse bush. Though barely conscious, Caroline groaned aloud at the thought of poor John—the past few minutes had been a nightmare worse than anything Dante could have penned. She tried to sit up, but the small movement caused her to retch.
Falling back, face down in the mud and leaves, she lay motionless.
Above her, the sound of pounding hooves had fallen silent. Through the haze of shock, she could hear other sounds—the scrabble of boots over rocks and then the low rasp of voices.
“Ain’t bloody likely a living thing survived that,” came a rough growl.
“Cor, whatcha gone and done by popping off the coachman? We was supposed te git some piece of paper from the wench afore we killed ’um.” The second voice had a grating whine to it.
There was a loud grunt. “Let’s be off and collect the rest of our blunt from that flash cove afore he scampers on us.”
“But whadda we tell him?”
“Ye ninny. We tell him she’s dead, that’s wot. And that’s what he bloody hired us fer, ain’t it?”
“He seemed mighty particular about wanting that letter she had.”
The first voice swore. “You wanna go down there and git it fer him?”
There was a silence.
“Didn’t think so,” continued the voice. “The gennulmun be welcome to break his own arse if it’s so important te him.”
“Who was she, anyhow?”
“Who bloody cares? Whoever she be, she’s dead. Let’s be off.”
Caroline didn’t hear them leave. She had slipped into a blackness as deep as the starless sky.
Three
“How long before the mill can be working?”
The steward pulled a face as he rubbed at his chin. “Assuming we have the mortar and timber and enough men can be pulled from the other work…” He let the words trail off as he stared at the forlorn stone structure, which was in an obvious state of disrepair.
Julian Fitzwilliam Atherton, the new Earl of Davenport, sighed. “Figure out a cost for that too.”
The other man scribbled a notation in his notebook, and then they both spurred their horses forward and continued along the riverbank. They rode in silence for a while, each seemingly occupied with his own thoughts.
“Perhaps you should just hand the bloody place over to the creditors and be done with it,” murmured the steward as they passed yet another field that was lying fallow for lack of seed.
The earl shook his head. “I’m not intimidated by a difficult task, Jarrett. Things will be different now.”
