“The next coach comes in a quarter hour, you better hurry.”
Willa turned away and chose the only open table. There was quite a commotion outside. A man shouting for his horses, but through the bottle-glass window, Willa could hardly make out his features. The barmaid set a bowl before her, and she hurriedly ate. She wanted to be ready and waiting outside when the next stagecoach arrived. The bland soggy oats burned their way down her throat.
Swallowing one last mouthful, she gathered up her belongings and hurried outside. Two riders thundered out of the inn yard as if the very hounds of hell were on their heels.
This was a minor setback, she reassured herself, but she was on track again. A little later than she'd like to be. But still, as far as mishaps could go, this was preferable to being robbed by highwaymen or any of the other nightmares that could occur. Luckily, she'd been prepared for misfortune. Surely, if the day started this terrible. It couldn't get much worse.
* * *
Wesley and Ned rode hard, catching up to the coach at the next stop. They hung back while the ostler exchanged their horses, watching the occupants. Wesley's heart dropped to his feet when Willa did not exit the coach and was not among the travelers inside the coach. He moved closer, peering through the windows without seeming obvious.
“Bloody hell,” he cursed.
Ned shaded his eyes as he scanned the inn yard. “Did we miss her, and she went inside? Did she put on another disguise?”
Wesley went up to the coachman. He needed to know Willa was safe.
“Sir, the widow who traveled with you yesterday. She's my sister. Where is she now? We're supposed to meet today.”
The coachman shrugged. “She did not board the stage, sir. I'd assume she's back at the other inn.”
“Thank you.”
Wesley turned back to Ned. “She never got on. He thinks she's back at the other inn.” Wesley told Ned.
“She missed the coach? All three of us woke late?” Ned began to chuckle.
“I fail to see the humor in the situation. She's alone and I don't know if she'll be on the next coach. If we should wait or go back. What if we miss her again?”
“We know the route,” Ned said. “If we ride back, we’ll catch them, and if she stays there, then at least she’ll be in one place, and we'll know where to find her.”
“I don't like this. There are too many variables,” Wesley said. “Anything could happen between there and here.”
Ned squeezed his shoulder. “Or nothing could happen.”
Wesley didn't think they'd be so lucky. The day had already started on a bad note. They mounted their horses and rode out of the inn yard at breakneck speed, eager to close the distance between them and Willa.
Chapter 6
The coach slowed. Willa jerked awake, instinctually reaching to lift her veil when she remembered that she must not let anyone see her face. She peered out the window.
“There is a felled tree,” the coachman called out to them from the roof. Everyone in the coach visibly tensed, clutching their belongings to them. The groom at the rear stepped down. Willa could see him through the window, and he pulled a pistol from his waistband, cocking it.
Her heart leapt to her throat.
“What's happening?” she whispered.
The portly gentleman beside her, who thankfully must have bathed this morning and smelled rather pleasant, like starch and coffee, leaned close to her.
“Is this your first time? I'll tell you this, a tree across the route rarely happens by natural occurrence.”
“You're implying someone put it there?”
He nodded. “Highwaymen,” he said in a sinister whisper.
Had her heart stopped? She couldn't be sure. She'd never taken much note of her heart’s beating. It was always there, a steady companion, but now she couldn't feel it at all. She knotted her fingers together.
She dare not repeat the word, as if saying it again would summon them, but it seemed her thoughts had done the trick. The groom came back into view, his hands raised, the pistol he clutched tossed into the grass and gruff words were spoken, but she could not make them out.
