Thomas just laughed, kicked him once more, and dragged Clover to his horse. “Secure that wagon so that the horses cannot drag it home and alert someone there. I want to be sure MacGregor lies out here alone for a very long time.”
“Maybe we oughta check and make sure he be gut shot,” said Poonley.
“You wanna open that shirt and see which parts of him are tumbling out?” Big Jim laughed at the sickly expression on Poonley’s face.
Clover struggled to look back at Ballard, but Thomas roughly forced her to face forward. By the time he threw her up onto his saddle, her wrists were rubbed raw and bleeding.
“How did ye find us?” Ballard called, his voice weak and raspy. “I want to ken what bastard betrayed us.”
Thomas mounted behind Clover. “It seems a certain Corey Winston is tired of having you as a rival for Miss Elizabeth’s affections. You do appear to have bad luck with women, MacGregor.” Thomas chuckled and spurred his horse into a trot.
Ballard watched them ride away. He did not move for several minutes after all the riders were out of sight. There was always the chance that someone might think to take one last look at him to be sure he was dying.
Then he rose cautiously to his feet, for he knew he had lost a lot of blood. Once he was steady, he took off his shirt, ripped it into strips, and tied them around his waist to try to stem the flow of blood. Fighting the urge to race off to rescue Clover, he walked to the horses still hitched to the wagon and freed the mare. He took the musket from the wagon, shaking his head at the ineptitude of the fools who had left it behind. If he had really been gut shot, he could have used it on himself. Wincing with pain, he mounted, then turned the horse back toward Potsdam’s home. He had to get his hands on Corey Winston. The man would know where Thomas had taken Clover.
The ride to Potsdam’s proved more of an ordeal than he had expected. He headed straight for the stables, determined to get Corey before the man could be warned and before he lost his remaining strength.
Ballard kicked in the door of Corey’s little room located at the far end of the stables, pointing the musket at him. Corey stumbled to his feet, fear twisting his features, and thrust up his hands. Without a word Ballard signaled him to go to the main house, keeping the musket aimed squarely at his back as they walked. He was glad of the dim light, for he knew one sight of his face would reveal the full extent of his weakness. He doubted he would be able to hold the man if he had tried to bolt. Until he hada moment to catch his breath and have his wound seen to properly, Ballard doubted he could hit the man if he did shoot at him.
At the front door of Cyril’s fine brick house, Ballard supported himself against one of the sturdy columns and hollered for Cyril. It was a moment or two before the butler opened the door. Behind him, Ballard saw Cyril hurrying down the stairs, tucking in his shirt as he went, and Theodore coming out of the parlor. The expressions on Cyril’s and Theodore’s faces revealed that the men immediately understood the significance of Ballard’s reappearance.
“Where did they attack?” Cyril asked.
“About halfway between here and my place.” With the musket barrel Ballard nudged Corey toward Cyril. “Can you secure this bastard for me? It seems he told Dillingsworth where we would be. I am also going to need some bandages, maybe even some wrappings for my ribs.”
Ballard gratefully relinquished control to Cyril, Theodore, and the butler, Carter. Cyril and Theodore tied Corey to a chair in the front parlor and left him to sweat as Carter tended to Ballard’s wounds. Not until after he had had a bracing sip of the brandy Theodore poured him was Ballard able to give them a succinct version of the attack.
“Are you sure it was Corey who told them how to find you?” asked Cyril.
“Aye,” answered Ballard with a hard glare at the stablehand. “It seems he considers me a rival for Elizabeth’s affections. He is under the same delusion Elizabeth is in thinking that I want her. Only where Elizabeth just tries to make everyone’s life miserable, this fellow works to get us both killed.”
“Carter, send young Henry to the MacGregors’ to bring Shelton and Lambert here as fast as possible.” Once Carter left, Cyril turned to Corey. “I cannot believe you have betrayed my trust in this fashion. You had better pray that everyone comes out of this alive or you shall hang right alongside Big Jim, his three reptilian friends, and that madman Thomas Dillingsworth.”
“What I want to ken is where they will take Clover,” Ballard said. When Corey refused to answer, Ballard rose threateningly to his feet his fists clenched.
“Sit down, Ballard, and take this chance to regain your strength,” Cyril advised. “I know you intend to go after your wife.” To Corey, he said, “I suggest you rethink your silence. You have been well and truly caught and helping us now may benefit you. Keeping silent will gain you nothing.”
“They done gone to Helen Lewis’s house. She be Poonley’s new woman. I was one of the few what knew he had taken up with the wench. That’s how I found them.”
“And there are only the four of them plus Dillingsworth?”
“And Helen, of course, though she’s bound to run to the hills the minute something starts happening. She generally stays in the kitchens. They’ll put Ballard’s woman up in the hayloft of Helen’s barn. Poonley was showing me that Dillingsworth done made her a little nest up there. So’s he can have her, I reckon. There ain’t gonna be room for that in Helen’s tiny place.”
“Ah, Carter,” Cyril said as his man returned to the parlor. “Please secure this fool in a safe place. We want to keep a tight grip on him until we know theextent of the tragedy he has helped to bring about.” As soon as Carter dragged Corey from the room, Cyril asked Ballard, “How did you escape? I cannot believe they purposely left you alive.”
“It seems they thought I was gut shot. It delighted Thomas to leave me there to rot. I hated having to leave Clover thinking I was dying.”
“Then she shall be very glad to see you when you walk in alive,” Theodore said. “Just keep still now and rest, and you will soon regain enough strength to rescue her.”
“We cannae leave her with that mad dog for long, Theodore. He means to rape her and then hand her around to the curs who ride with him. He wants to humiliate her as he believes she humiliated him. He wants to make her pay for God knows what imagined insults. He cannae stomach the fact that she turned to me. Do ye ken, one of the many reasons he wanted me dead was because I broke his nose and it healed with a wee bump in it?”
“Sweet mercy, he really is mad,” murmured Cyril.
“Aye, and he keeps rubbing his head, like he is in constant pain. Clover is in real danger with that mon.”
Cyril clasped Ballard’s shoulder. “I realize I am asking the impossible, but try to calm yourself. Acting hastily will not help Clover now. The wisest thing is to get some strength back. Rest until your brother and cousin arrive here and then we will kill that mad dog.”
It was one of the hardest things he had ever done, but Ballard struggled to do as Cyril suggested, for he knew the man was right. His wound was not serious, but he had lost a lot of blood. It would be a hard ride to Helen Lewis’s house and he would need everyounce of strength he could muster to fight Thomas and his cohorts.
