Everyone around him gasped. "Captain, you mustn't!" the landlord exclaimed. He turned and opened the front door. A vicious blast of wind and snow surged inside, almost tearing the door from his hand. "Going out in this would be suicide!"
David looked into the storm, felt ice particles stinging his face, and remembered blizzards in the high mountain passes of northern India. Closing the door, he said, "I've seen worse."
Reluctantly McKay said, "I've a good sturdy horse I can lend you. No need to buy him."
"I'll buy it," David said. "In case I don't return."
Both McKays looked appalled. "I'm not planning to die out there," David said reassuringly. "If I find no trace of Miss Caitlin, I'll continue on into Scotland to my brother's house. I should be there before Christmas."
Sally said anxiously, "Please let us know if you survive!"
"I'll send a message when the roads clear," he promised. "Can you put together some food for me while I pack?"
The landlord nodded. "That plus a hot breakfast before you leave."
"Thank you. That will be much appreciated." David turned and headed up the stairs to pack his saddlebags. He changed into his sturdiest winter clothing, which included a long, heavy wool scarf he could wrap around his head and neck.
He was just finishing when a knock sounded on the door. He opened it to find Sally McKay. "I wrote down the directions to Braewood and included a bit of a map," she said. "It's not a difficult route, but it will be hard to see the landmarks in this storm."
"Thank you." He studied the map. "How long a ride would it be if the weather was clear?"
She thought. "With a good strong horse like Benjie, maybe two hours?"
So probably at least twice as long as that, assuming he didn't get lost. "Are there any villages or farms along the way?"
"Almost nothing, sir, so you be careful!" The girl's face twisted. "I do hope you can save Miss Caitlin. She's a grand girl."
"I'll do my best," David promised. On impulse, he dug into his saddlebag and ulled out a shimmering Indian scarf patterned in scarlet and blue. "Here's a small gift of appreciation for what you've done for Miss Caitlin and for me."
She gasped as the silky fabric spilled over her hands. "It's so beautiful! You shouldn't give this away."
"I spent many years in India, so I sent several trunks of Indian fabrics and crafts to my brother's house in Scotland," he said. "But I packed a couple of scarves in my saddle bags in case I wanted to give a gift along the way."
Sally draped the scarf around her neck and stroked the richly colored fabric. "I will cherish this forever." She raised her gaze to David. "And I'll pray that you and Miss Caitlin stay safe."
"All prayers gratefully accepted," he said seriously. "Sometimes miracles happen."
Then he hoisted his saddlebags and headed down the stairs. He'd seen a few miracles in India, and he was ready for another one.
David took advantage of a dip in the road that reduced the wind to give himself and his stalwart mount, Benjie, some protection from the storm. In the burning heat of Cambay, he'd yearned for a cold northern climate and he'd certainly been granted his wish!
He pulled out Sally's map, using the end of his scarf to protect it from the gusting snow. It was a good map with small sketches of landmarks which made it easier to follow. He'd just turned off the main road onto a narrower, steeper track that led into the hills. He guessed that he was about halfway to his destination, assuming he didn't get lost.
Days were very short this far north and at this season. He wondered if he could reach his destination House before full dark. If not, he'd have to find a protected spot for himself and Benjie because the trail would be treacherous at night.
He hoped to God that Miss Caitlin was at her uncle's house. He'd watched the edges of the road and hadn't seen any frozen bodies, but with the drifts piling up, it would be easy to miss a small crumpled form. He hated thinking that a tormented young woman might have died alone in the bitter cold.
This trek was equally tiring for both man and beast. After patting Benjie on the neck, he set the horse into motion again. "Time to get moving again, my lad. Here's hoping we find shelter for the night."
When Caitlin reached Braewood, her first action was to stable her stolen horse and make sure that he had food, water, and a blanket. She felt a small pang of guilt for the theft, but only a small one. She might not have made it home if he wasn't such a fine mount.
Then she entered the house through the kitchen door because she knew where the key was hidden. It was stone cold inside but she was out of the wind andhome.
She made her way to her uncle's study and retrieved the pistol hidden in the desk and carefully loaded it. She would collect the long guns after she rested. It was unlikely that the Dawsons would follow her in this storm, but if they tried to recapture her, they'd be sorry.
She had just enough energy to stagger into the cook's room that adjoined the kitchen. The narrow bed was bare but the blankets had been neatly folded and set on the foot of the mattress.
Mercifully a fire had been laid before the house was closed, though her fingers were almost too numb to strike a light. As licks of flame added a bit of warmth to the room, she pulled off her boots, collapsed onto the bed, dragged the folded blankets over her shivering body, and slept like the dead.
