“I had help, as ye can hear. And I wasnae gut shot. Ye really shouldnae count so much on the opinion of those fools ye have working for ye.”
Thomas bellowed and rushed toward Ballard. Just before Ballard fired a pistol, Thomas suddenly moved, so that the bullet skimmed his shoulder. An instant later, he slammed into Ballard. They hit the floor hard and Ballard cried out in pain. Both pistols skittered across the hay-strewn floor.
Clover watched the two men fight in growing alarm. Ballard had beaten Thomas neatly and swiftlytwice before, yet he was clearly struggling for his life now. He might not be suffering from the fatal wound Thomas had thought, but he was seriously injured and had apparently lost a lot of blood. Thomas also had the added strength born of madness. When a knife appeared in Thomas’s hand, she feared she was about to witness Ballard’s murder only moments after knowing the joy of seeing him alive.
Over the sound of a furious gun battle going on outside, Clover could hear a dog barking. She struggled fruitlessly to free herself of her bonds even as her gaze remained fixed upon the two men. Then a mangy dog scrambled into the hayloft and began to run in circles around the thrashing men, jumping up and down. Clover knew it was Poonley’s mistress’s dog, for she had briefly glimpsed it snarling at everyone before she was dragged off to the barn.
Then, suddenly, Thomas was on top of Ballard, his knife aimed directly at Ballard’s heart. Clover could see the tremor in Ballard’s arm as he clasped Thomas’s wrist and tried to halt the knife’s descent. In desperation she pulled against her bonds until blood slickened her wrists, yet still she watched the knife point draw nearer and nearer to Ballard’s chest.
“Youwilldie this time, MacGregor,” Thomas said, jubilation in his voice. “You will not be able to rise after I cut out your heart.”
“Killing me willnae win this game for ye, Dillingsworth. My friends will see that ye never leave this place alive.”
“Neither will Clover.”
“Curse ye!”
Ballard tried to muster up the one swift burst of strength he needed to stop the deadly advance ofThomas’s blade, but he had none left. He could not stop the death strike. Just as he tensed anticipating the touch of the knife against his flesh, he heard a low, feral growl. An instant later Thomas screamed as his wrist was completely lost in the jaws of the dog.
Thomas rolled off Ballard as he tried to shake free of the dog. Ballard staggered to his feet. He watched the man and the animal roll about on the hayloft floor, waiting for a chance to grab the knife to which Thomas still miraculously clung. Then he saw the glint of his pistol in the hay and lunged for it. Was it the one he had already fired? Even as he aimed at Thomas, Ballard espied his other pistol. Just as his hand closed on it, he heard a sharp yelp from the dog.
Thomas punched the dog in the head a second time and the animal fell from him. Ballard was stunned to see that, despite the blood pouring from his mangled wrist, Thomas still held the knife. As he staggered to his feet and stepped forward, Ballard aimed both pistols at Thomas and fired. Thomas screamed as a bullet tore through his chest, throwing him backward onto the hay where he lay still. Ballard cautiously approached to be sure he was dead. It took only one look at the flat, lifeless eyes to tell him that Thomas would never be a threat again.
“Is he dead?” Clover whispered.
“Aye, lass.”
She briefly closed her eyes and shuddered. “I was so afraid I was about to watch you die.”
“It isnae easy to kill a MacGregor,” he said as he stumbled to her side.
Clover studied his face as he untied her and they both sank to the ground. He was bruised, dirty, andbleeding, but he had never looked so beautiful to her. She slumped against him as he put his arm around her.
“I thought you were dead,” she murmured.
“I needed ye to believe it. It helped convince Thomas and the others.”
“I understand. If they had taken a good look at you, they would have seen that you were not dying. It is a bad wound though. I can see that it pains you.”
“Aye. Here, lass, the shooting has stopped. I had better reload these pistols just in case it is not a friend who comes looking for us.”
She sat back a little as he reloaded his guns, and looked toward the dog. “Do you think Thomas killed that poor animal?”
“I hope not, but I cannae take the time to examine the wretched creature now.”
He heard someone enter the barn and quickly moved in front of her. With a pistol in each hand he waited to see what the outcome of the battle had been.
“Ballard?” called Shelton from the bottom of the ladder leading to the hayloft. “Are ye up there?”
“Aye, I won my fight,” Ballard replied as he relaxed and put down his pistols. “With a wee bit of help.” He glanced at the dog and was relieved to see it tremble. “Careful as ye come up, lad. There is a dog up here who isnae too sure who is friend and who is foe.”
Shelton cautiously climbed into the hayloft. Although still unable to stand, the dog growled and Ballard murmured a word to soothe it. Shelton glanced at Thomas’s body, then moved to Clover and Ballard.
“I hope it wasnae ye who nearly chewed the mon’s hand off,” he said as he crouched before them.
“Nay, the dog came to my rescue.” Ballard held hishand out as the animal crept warily closer. “Thomas was about to stick a knife in me and this ragged beastie stopped him. I think we will take him home.”
“That old tomcat Muskrat willnae be too pleased. How are ye two?”
