“Aye, but shouldn’t we first alert ...” Young Thomas trailed off, clearly at a loss for who could help.
“There is no time. Even if we can contact someone, it would take too long to convince them that we’re not mad.” Rose began to pace, the movement helping to dispel the anxiousness that she refused to acknowledge. “We will tie up Astrid and leave her locked in my room. Freya can watch the door while the rest of us look for Thorfinn. Myrtle and I will go to the broch since we are familiar with it. Since you know where the other cave is, you and Percy can explore it.”
“What about the other male visitors, ma’am?” Young Thomas now stood at attention, as if facing one of his commanding officers. “A lot of them were at the Front, too, and can help in the search.”
“We don’t know who to trust,” Rose answered.
“I’ll go retrieve my Colts,” Myrtle said.
“You know how to handle a firearm too?” Young Thomas asked.
“One of my grandfathers was a Texas Ranger, and the other was a hired gun,” Myrtle said. “They taught me, and they also showed Rose how to shoot when she visited the family ranch.”
“Why are there spies?” Freya cried. “How is Thorfinn involved? What is in the letter he left on my bed?”
“All reasonable questions,” Percy interjected.
“We’ll explain as soon as we find your brother,” Rose said quickly, not wishing to reveal to the girl that her father might have killed her half sibling. Until they knew for certain Thorfinn’s fate, she did not want to upset Freya even more.
“But—” Freya began to protest.
Young Thomas seemed to understand that Rose was seeking to protect the girl. He wrapped his arm around her thin shoulders and led her into the hall. “We have a mission, Freya. We need to focus on that. Can you do that?”
“Aye.” Her petite chin stopped trembling as she set it at a fierce angle.
“It is a good thing that I have a penchant for adventure, a cavalier regard to recklessness, a Webley revolver in my room, and an undying fondness for you, Rose,” Percy said.
“Can’t I help?” Astrid cried.
“You can by not trying to run,” Rose said as she opened her closet and pulled out a thick cord that she usually used as a belt. Astrid looked stricken, but she didn’t struggle or even protest as Rose bound her hands behind her back.
As Rose secured Astrid, Percy and Myrtle left to gather their firearms and coats. They returned shortly, and Myrtle handed one of her twin Colt army revolvers to Young Thomas. They had been a gift from her hired-gun grandfather. She also had a Henry lever action rifle from the Texas Ranger slung over her shoulder. As soon as the rest of the group was out of hearing distance from Freya and Astrid, Rose told Percy and Young Thomas as much as she could about the spy ring as they dashed to the stables.
Rose and Myrtle took the Raceabout while the men squeezed into Percy’s Napier, which he’d had shipped over to Hamarray for the race. Engines roaring, both vehicles blazed out of the old barn and shot down the road toward the other end of the headlands. Percy swerved first intothe grasses as he and Young Thomas bumped across the uneven land toward the cliffs. The Napier stopped yards from the edge. As soon as Percy killed the engine, the two jumped out and dashed toward the path that led to the cliff cave.
Ahead of Rose and Myrtle, the broch shone like a beacon in the golden glow of twilight. The gilded sky made Rose feel like she was trapped in a Klimt painting ... or, more correctly,The Screamwith its swirling orange colors and surreal terror oozing from each deft stroke.
Dust flew and tires skidded as Rose yanked the Raceabout’s hand brake and spun the wheel over. The right-side tires briefly left the ground and thumped back to earth as the car screeched to a stop, feet from the ancient tower. Rose jumped out, leaving the motor running, with Myrtle racing beside her. Every step seemed to send a spike of pain through Rose’s heart. She almost dashed headlong into the broch, but Myrtle roughly grabbed her arm. After practically thrusting Rose aside, Myrtle ripped off her tam and placed it on the end of her rifle.
“Here,” Myrtle hissed, handing Rose the long arm. “Use this to check if anyone is inside before you go barreling in. I’ll be right behind you, bending low and getting ready to fire.”
“A trick you learned from your outlaw grandfather?” Rose whispered as she grabbed the improvised decoy. She had to say something,dosomething, to ease the horrible tension, or shewouldmake a suicidal dash straight inside.
“No. Grandpa Jack—the Texas Ranger.”
Rose steadied her breath, just as if she were preparing to leave a poste de secours. But instead of getting behind a wheel, she pressed her back against the inner wall of the thick stone entrance, holding the hat in front of her to draw any fire. Slowly, her heart so tight she swore her blood would stop pumping, Rose slunk farther along the broch’s deep doorway and poked the lure inside.
Nothing happened.
It was one of the hardest things that Rose had ever done, but she waited. Despite the cool night air, sweat saturated her, and her muscles threatened to tremble. Still, she held firm. One. Two. Three.
Then with her heart screaming silently in her chest, Rose peeked into the broch, her Bull Dog revolver ready to shoot.
But she didn’t.
She shouted out the pain inside her.
For there, in the center of a hazy beam shimmering from the open ceiling, was a heartbreakingly familiar swatch of black material. Just as Astrid had done earlier, Rose collapsed to her knees. With a shaking hand, she reached for Thorfinn’s eye patch.
