“Easy for you to say, you weren’t shot.”
Her eyes flared, her heart skipped a beat. She looked frantically for blood, but couldn’t find any on him. But then she noticed the thin rip high on the side of his coat by his shoulder. No blood, though. The coat was thick, as was the corded epaulet on his jacket beneath it in that spot, so the bullet likely didn’t even touch his skin.
Relieved without even realizing it, she assured him, “You weren’t shot, your clothes were.”
Without glancing down at her, he said, “Not the least concern, eh?”
She didn’t answer that, afraid she had too much concern. “Do you have an extra weapon I can use in your saddlebag? I’m an excellent shot, and you know I’m not going to use it on you.”
“You’re not getting up off that floor to shoot at anything, but you can dig out the ammunition in the bag for me.” He added, “One down, one wounded. Two to go.”
She quickly did as he asked, but it finally dawned on her that the sleigh hadn’t stopped or picked up speed. It was still moving along at a steady pace. She glanced behind her and gasped to see why. The poor deaf driver was still sitting on his perch, oblivious to the sounds of bullets flying about.
“Shouldn’t the driver take cover?” she asked Christoph. “He doesn’t even know we’re being shot at.”
“Cover, no, but we need more speed. Tell him.”
“How? He can’t hear.”
“Indicate, and do it without getting up. Also, there is a road coming up on the right. Let him know to turn down it.”
She couldn’t reach the perch above her without leaning up so she grabbed one of the blankets and flipped it up at the man’s back. He glanced behind him. He didn’t even see her on the floor, but he saw Christoph shooting and immediately whipped the horses for the needed speed. One down, one to go, she thought. She whipped the blanket at the driver again to catch his eye, then pointed to the right. He nodded as if he understood perfectly, and maybe he did, if he was familiar with the area.
Task accomplished, she glanced at Christoph again. He might be taking careful aim before he fired off a shot, but she hadn’t missed that earlier laugh of his. She didn’t doubt that he was having a great good time fending off these assailants, whether they were after him or her. He might be crouching on the seat, but his head and shoulders were exposed. Someone might get a lucky shot . . .
“Why didn’t you bring some men with us?” she asked, annoyed.
“I did. I sent them ahead. I was trying not to draw attention to us.”
“Well, that worked wonderfully, didn’t it?”
He glanced down at her. “Are you always so sarcastic when you’re frightened?”
She sighed. “I don’t really know. I’m not used to fear. But I’m not actually frightened anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Because you aren’t.”
“I’m terrified—”
“Oh, sure you are,” she scoffed.
“—that you’ll be shot. Like you, I hide my emotions well.”
She snorted. A fine time to be teasing her, she thought. But then he turned around, sat on the seat again, and extended a hand to her.
“They’re gone?” she asked.
“Two left behind on the ground, the other two riding off with their wounds. I’ll send—”
He stopped to swear foully. She didn’t realize why until she was seated next to him again and saw a snowstorm racing toward them. In moments the snow was swirling all around them and moving down the hillside.
“So much for following a blood path,” he continued in disgust. “I should go after them myself.”
Alana knew that with the snow coming down so heavily the tracks their assailants’ horses left behind would soon be covered. She glanced behind the sleigh expecting to see nothing but a sheet of white, yet for a moment she actually caught a glimpse of the sun still shining far below in the lowlands before even that disappeared from her line of sight.
“Go ahead,” she suggested bravely as he shook out one of the blankets to spread over them again. “I’ll be fine now.”
