Anthony glanced at Charlotte as she pulled the rope to tighten it, and in that split second Timmons reached in his coat.
Anthony did not think. He acted.
He launched toward Timmons at the very same moment that Timmons seized another pistol from his coat.
Rebecca screamed.
Henry wailed.
Anthony smacked Timmons’s hand, which sent the pistol clattering to the stone floor. “Get it, Charlotte!”
Anthony slammed his fist into Timmons’s jaw. Timmons hit back with a fist to Anthony’s gut, hurling the air from him, but he grabbed Timmons by the arm, twisted it behind him, and then shoved him against the wall. Anthony thrust his pistol at Timmons’s back. “The other rope!”
In seconds Charlotte was at his side, with both the rope and her own loaded pistol. He gave Charlotte his pistol and repositioned Timmons’s arms and tied them. He patted him to search for other weapons.
Timmons resisted, thrashing the best he could, and Anthony forced him into the chair and tied him securely.
“He’s going t’ kill ye for this, you know,” jeered Timmons. “He’ll kill ye and ’er. You should ’ave left it alone.”
Was he referring to Broadstreet? Perhaps Silas Prior? “You know me, Timmons,” muttered Anthony, testing the rope. “I would never leave this alone.”
Anthony glanced behind him.
Charlotte still held the pistol steady, her eyes wide. Henry was still screaming on the floor. Rebecca was sobbing against the wall.
Anthony cut another length of rope and double-checked Charlotte’s knots and bound Rebecca’s legs, and then he secured her to the heavy leg of the table so the two could not get to each other after Anthony and Charlotte left. Anthony cinched the knot even tighter and then used the blade in his boot to cut off another length of rope to tie Timmons’s legs.
Anthony stood, stepped back, took the pistols, and motioned for Charlotte to pick up Henry.
He looked back to the man who had been like a brother to him these past years. So much he wanted to say. So many questions he wanted to ask. But he resisted. “I’ll be back with the magistrate.”
Timmons chuckled. “There’s nothin’ ye can do t’ me,Captain, and ye know it.”
Anthony did not look away. “Go, Charlotte.”
Anthony heard her feet retreat, and the sound of Henry’s crying faded. He then backed out of the cottage, not turning his back until he cleared the door.
Once free of the cabin and once again mounted on the horse, the three of them raced over the moors. The landscape flashed by them in shades of brown and gray. He should be happy, forCharlotte was riding in front of him, Henry in her arms. Timmons and Rebecca were tied in the cottage. But Anthony was far from at peace.
Timmons might have been telling him the truth. Maybe he was lying.
But regardless, he had been betrayed and lied to by a friend.
And it did not sit well with him.
The only thing he could do was what he knew to be right.
Chapter41
The horse carrying Charlotte, Henry, and Anthony thundered over the uneven moorland terrain. Each second put more distance between them and Thoms Cottage. Charlotte blinked away the moisture and tightened her grip on Henry, and she pressed her back against Anthony’s chest, welcoming the sense of protection it offered and drawing from his strength.
They’d done it.
They had gotten Henry back from the kidnappers.
But she felt far from relieved, and she sensed Anthony was not at peace either.
Even as Anthony’s arms encircled both her and Henry as he held the horse’s reins, she could feel the tension in them. She wanted to soothe him and reassure him after the blow of betrayal he’d received from a friend. But the whistling wind blasting them as they rode made talking nearly impossible, and besides, what could be said?
