Nick fished a flask out of his fine wool frock coat pocket. “You know how Reynolds got captured, don’t you?”
“By you.” She folded her arms, but there wasn’t enough steel in her to hide the tremor in her voice.
He took a swig and licked his lips. “I shot him in the arm, but he might have gotten away if it wasn’t for the Schramm girl.”
“Frieda?” She sat straight up.
The carriage jerked as the ferry started across the river, tugged by the ropes.
“He let himself get caught to save her.”
Her lungs constricted. “You’re lying. She wasn’t anywhere near there.”
“On the contrary, she was waiting at the river with a canoe. I’d shot him, but he’d run on. Probably would have made it if the fair maiden hadn’t shown up and offered him a ride. He hopped in ready to paddle away with her—only, his stopping momentarily to greet her gave me time.”
Acid rose in her throat.
His eyes sparkled. “I fired. Ready to put a bullet in one or both of them. He stood up, acting like he was going to surrender, then flipped the canoe. He knew I’d have to choose who to go after. Of course, I followed him. Beat him to a pulp and dragged his sorry carcass off to jail. Frieda Schramm got away. I could have killed Reynolds right then and there—miserable worm of a man he is—only, I figured that’d be too easy.”
Devon had sacrificed himself to save Frieda? After he’d promised Frieda wouldn’t be there. That he wouldn’t allow Frieda or Morning Fawn to be part of the attack. What if he’d said that because he thought Morning Fawn was incompetent, that she’d mess up or get in the way? She sunk back against the cushions.
“You’re lying.” She strangled the flimsy reticule in her grip.
Nick tugged his watch from its pocket. “Ask him yourself.”
“What do you mean?”
“I figured since it’s the last time either of us will see the man, we’d stop for a little visit. I think it’s only proper we let him know you’ll be well provided for, that he needn’t worry about you as he heads to San Antonio.”
“You want to gloat.”
“Reynolds has been a worthy opponent. No harm in saying ‘good game.’”
“‘Good game?’” She almost came off her seat. “The man is on his way to his death.”
“He knew the consequences if he got caught. He made his decision. Obviously, his mission and the German girl meant more to him than any romance he had with you. And of course, he made the poor decision of having her be part of his squad instead of you, the more capable actress.”
She closed her eyes and pressed her hands to her stomach, lest she throw up. Had Devon lied to her? Or was the addition of Frieda a last-minute decision? One that could still cost him his life.
The ferry docked, and the carriage rolled off onto dry land.
She would see the layout of the jail, and she’d see Devon. It was more than she could have asked for. But what if it wasn’t enough?
What if he’d betrayed her with Frieda?
Lamplight from the streets filtered into Devon’s cell through the bars on the window. He shivered and pulled his blanket around him like a cape. Carriages and buggies had rolled past for the last hour. The gala at Robson’s Castle had been delayed, not canceled, as if the attack never happened, as if Devon’s mission had meant nothing.
The iron shackle chafed against his ankle as he sat up. He rubbed his fingers over his eyes, no longer swollen. His bruises had receded beneath the layer of dirt that covered him. A bath wasn’t a luxury granted by his jailors. He was thankful if he received two or three cups of water a day and a meager meal of watery broth and weevil-laden hardtack. Vermin were available in plentiful supply.
The soreness in his hip had settled down to a dull ache whenever he moved his right leg, but he couldn’t bend his leftarm without gritting his teeth. It throbbed throughout his waking hours and restless nights.
Tomorrow he’d be on the road to San Antonio. Would that give Jeremy an opportunity to strike, provided he could gather enough troops in the limited amount of time? Or perhaps the German League could muster a contingent? Far-flung hopes.
He needed to be ready to attempt escape at the slightest opportunity. It’d be better to end up with a bullet in his back than face the gallows. He could try the excuse Morning Fawn pulled on the way to the fort after her kidnapping, her “I need to go behind the bushes” maneuver. It’d almost worked. She’d managed to knock out the dumb kid who should have been at home on his ranch instead of hiring on as a guard.
Morning Fawn. His heart clenched.
Footsteps trudged up the stairs, followed by lighter ones. Devon stiffened. What now?
