She must have ridden a quarter hour now, and she’d beenmoving at a good clip for most of it. Her sister and White Horse wouldn’t have sped up while they waited for her to catch them.
The weight in her chest pressed harder. Something else must be wrong.
She reined her mare down to a walk and raised her hands to cup around her mouth as she called out.
But before she could make a sound, another noise drifted to her.
A man’s voice.
twenty-eight
Lorelei strained to hear better. Was that White Horse speaking? The voice definitely belonged to a man, but the tones were far harsher than he normally used.
Unless they’d found Purcey and his crew.
Lord, let it be. That might account for why Rosie and White Horse would have hurried ahead. If they’d spotted the men, they wouldn’t have let the chance slip away.
She eased back on the reins to slow her mare’s walk as she strained to see through the trees ahead. The voice had stopped.
Should she halt and leave her horse here, then proceed on foot? She might not be close enough to do that yet. She should have her rifle at the ready, though.
She pulled the weapon from its scabbard and settled it across her legs, checking again that the gun was loaded. She would need to pull the rear set trigger before she could fire, but she didn’t dare risk an accidental gunshot by doing that part now.
The voice sounded again, louder now, and she halted her mare to see if she could make out words. That definitelywasn’t White Horse’s clipped accent, but the only thing she could make out clearly wasshutandride. The tone sounded harsh. Was that Purcey yelling at one of his men? Or maybe at Tanner?
An image flashed through her mind of Tanner sitting at the base of a tree, his hands and feet tied, and a rag binding his mouth. Had they hurt him? Her mind added blood dripping down his face, his head lolled to the side, and an eye swollen shut, bruised an ugly black.
Oh, Tanner. Hold on. We’re coming.
She nudged her mare faster, straining for any sight or sound of the strangers. Daylight appeared between the trunks ahead. Was she nearing the edge of the woods?
This would be the right time to leave her horse here. The men talking might be just beyond these trees.
Taking care with her rifle, she slid to the ground and tied her horse, then started forward as soundlessly as she could manage. The more light that filtered between the trunks, the more she tried to hide herself from one step to the next. Was someone else tucked behind one of these trees watching her?
The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and she paused to do a thorough sweep around her, searching for any movement in the shadows.
Nothing. She couldn’t let unfounded fear slow her down.
Ahead, the man spoke again, and she froze to listen. “That’s enough. Now tie that thing tighter, and let’s get a move on. We wasted too much time here.”
The voice didn’t sound familiar at all, nor did it sound amiable. Through the trunks ahead, a blur of movement flashed.
Horses. And they were leaving.
Should she run back and get her own mount to catch up with them, or hurry forward and see who it was? The latter, and there was no time to waste.
Clutching her rifle in both hands, she sprinted forward, dodging the trees in her path. At the edge of the woods, she slowed enough to focus on the three horses trotting away.
Behind the saddle of the one on the left, a white-tan mound was tied on, a head lolling from one side. Her heart clenched.
Curly. Was he alive?
She scrambled to make out the forms of the three men. Neither the one carrying Curly, nor the burly fellow riding in front looked familiar. But the figure riding the mount just behind him struck a chord of panic in her chest.
Tanner.
He was slumped over—from pain, maybe. Or perhaps he was tied to the front of the saddle. His horse rode close enough to the one in front, the animals might be tethered together.
