She leaned down and drew out her knife. Not the one long knife, thin enough to fillet a fish or an intruder, but a shorter one she kept tied to the other leg. This knife wasn’t nearly as sharp, but it had its uses.
“Thaddeus, love, would you set a clump of dirt between the v of that tree over there?”
For once, thank goodness, her son did as he was told.
“If you would step aside, Captain.”
He acquiesced.
Closing one eye, she aimed. She flicked her wrist and then the knife hit the tree, sending the dirt flying in every direction.
“Impressive.” The Captain wiped a clump of dirt from his cheek.
Penelope shrugged. “We all have talents.”
He flashed another melting smile. “Remind me not to cross yours.”
“I thought I just did.”
He chuckled softly. Despite her annoyance, she warmed.
Most men would have been insulted. Or frightened. Only one other man had watched her perform the same trick and clapped with a whoop.
The captain turned away.
“Cheverley,” she whispered.
He did not turn back.
Then, Thaddeus yelped.
“Thaddeus!”
“Don’t move!” The captain’s held her back with an iron arm. “Either of you.”
Thaddeus answered a quiet, “Yes, sir.”
Sir?
Furious, she met the captain’s gaze. There was not time to argue.
“Trust me.” An order, not a request.
Taking in a shaky breath, she nodded.
Thaddeus hung from one arm, lifting as much weight as he was able but hanging above a now partially-exposed pit. Glancing down into the hole, she saw a poacher’s spring trap. A piece of a branch used to cover the pit had wedged into the trap and was arcing in a dangerous bulge.
“Come around my right and crouch near the boy, but do not reach for him until I say so,” the captain said.
“What are you going to do?” she asked, moving into place.
“I am going to lay myself across the opening while you pull him free.”
She blinked, her eyes misting. One false move and he’d be missing another limb—or worse. She met his gaze.
Trust me.
She nodded again.
