Heavy clouds gathered on the horizon, threatening more snow. Along with the frigid wind against his back, Levi Masters could sense the woman trailing behind him, though he didn’t let himself glance at her again. Perhaps he’d made the wrong move in saying he’d been traveling with MacManus. When she’d asked the question, it seemed like the perfect cover to allay her suspicions about his presence in the woods.
Technically, hehadbeen traveling with the man, though MacManus hadn’t known it.
Had the beauty by the stream suspected his duplicity? Part of him almost wished she’d seen through him. Then he could finally be honest and forthright.
His gaze sought out the tracks in the snow ahead to ensure he was still following MacManus’s trail. The habit had become second nature these long weeks that he’d followed the man from Washington. He’d perfected his ability to stay far enough behind that MacManus didn’t hear him, but close enough not to lose the trail. When they reached the snow-covered ground of these northern mountains, his job had become easier. Though, at times, more treacherous as the horses maneuvered over the icy stone.
A shrill whistle from behind him pierced the air, filling the open space around him so its source was almost hard to detect.
But he knew.
The woman trailing him must have signaled someone ahead of his presence. Did she intend to warn Evan MacManus? Or the people of her village?
He scanned the landscape before him, but all he could seewas the cliffside of a mountain, with shrubby brush clustered in sections around its base. Were the caves the people lived in somewhere in that mountain? He’d overheard enough of MacManus’s report to his superiors to know of the caves and the mineral he’d found within them.
A mineral the US government thought would give them power to win any war.
Those words had resonated so strongly within Levi that he knew he had to follow MacManus and learn more of this situation. Other information he’d overheard in the past from this particular American spy had proven quite valuable. Though this American war might be behind them, who knew when another battle would arise? This intelligence might finally give Britain the upper hand they needed. British Parliament needed to know what the Americans were plotting now.
A shift at the base of the mountain ahead drew his focus. Beside a cluster of skinny-needled trees, he thought he spotted a slight movement.
His imagination? Maybe, but he tightened his grip on the rifle resting across his lap. MacManus had traveled that exact direction, which couldn’t be a coincidence. This must be the entrance to the cave village.
He would have preferred to sneak around the edge of the woods to see what he was up against before making his presence known, but Miss Audrey Moreau had taken that advantage away from him with her alert.
Tingles ran across his shoulders and down his back. How many sets of eyes watched him?
Lord, what should I do? Station your angels around me for protection and give me wisdom about how to speak to these people.
When he’d neared ten strides from the place where he’d seen the movement, what he’d thought was the mountainside separated at the top to reveal aVof sunlight. The sight made no sense but must be part of their entrance.
Sitting deeper in his saddle, he eased back on Chaucer’s reins to slow the gelding. Any moment, he would likely be stopped at gunpoint. Or worse.
A man stepped out from the stone and planted himself, legs spread, arrow drawn tight in his bow and aimed at Levi. He barked a sharp command. “Halt.”
Levi halted Chaucer as he studied the fellow. He wore furs, as anyone who lived in this frozen land would, though his light brown hair proclaimed him to be of European descent. Not one of the natives. And his accent ... he spoke the word with a lilt, maybe French or Italian.
“Who are you?” The fellow still held his bow lifted and drawn, ready to let the arrow fly at any moment. They must not have muskets here if they still used bow and arrow.
At least Levi had that advantage. “I’ve come from the south looking for a village of caves. Is Evan MacManus here among you?” Maybe giving the man’s name would allow him entrance, or at least keep that arrow from flying yet.
Once he got inside, though, he had no idea what he would say to MacManus. The American hated him. He’d worry about that when the time came. Working in the intelligence division had given him plenty of practice at coming up with creative stories to keep his neck from the noose. Yet most of those stories were lies.
The man’s chin shifted, as though he was listening to someone behind him speak. Then he refocused on Levi and lowered his bow, though he still kept the arrow tight againstthe bowstring. “You may enter the courtyard.” The fellow stepped to the side and motioned with the arrow for Levi to ride forward.
Did he dare? Approaching whatever opening was hidden in that stone would be riding into a nest of vipers. But did he really have a choice? If he spun Chaucer and made a run for safety, this man would likely plant that arrow in his back. And Levi, if he survived, would have lost his best chance to see the village and find out more about the mineral—the secret tool that would win any future war for America as MacManus had claimed.
He had to take this chance. He was a Masters, after all, practically bred to sacrifice his life for Britain. His grandfather and uncle had died for the motherland, and most days his father wished he’d paid that ultimate sacrifice instead of being left without the use of his legs.
Levi nudged his mount forward. He would do what he must to serve his people, though he might be riding to his death. If that happened, perhaps his father would finally be proud of his efforts for their country.
2
“Dismount!” The guard with the bow and arrow motioned for Levi to halt as his mount reached him. The man had finally pulled the arrow away from the bowstring and slipped it back into his quiver. Now, he clutched a knife in one hand.
Levi nodded to show he planned to obey, then eased down from the chestnut gelding. He kept his musket gripped casually in his right hand. If these people were so separated from civilization, maybe they wouldn’t even know what the weapon was.
But the man reached out for the gun. Perhaps they weren’t so naïve.
