“Come off it,” Christopher sneered. “I will accept none of your words, Jenkins.”
“So be it.” Alex turned toward Moxham and took up his reins, knowing avoidance was futile.
Moxham’s eyes went wide. “Sir—are you sure you consent of your own accord?”
“Yes, Moxham.”
“There you have it,” Christopher said to Moxham. “You are to follow us on horseback, hand him his pistol before we pace, and in the case that he is not fatally injured, assist him away, out of sight of anyone who might be enough of an imbecile to ask questions.”
Moxham rubbed his hands together and looked between the men. “I am at your service, Jenkins,” he replied, a quiet chill to his voice.
“Good,” Chris said, tightening his reins. He checked over his shoulder to make sure Joseph was still near. “And, I might add,” he spat as Moxham mounted, “if you say anything of tonight’s proceedings to anyone, I’ll take care of you personally. My reputation is far more important than your life.”
Moxham swallowed and pulled his horse to follow Alex.
Into the darkness the four of them rode, where enough moonlight illuminated the forest to conjure haunting memories. The tree house Alex had spent time in with Walter. The pond where he’d fished as a youth. The river where he’d met up with Charlotte to dig worms a few weeks ago.
And then the clearing just on the other side of the old ruins.
The dark irony wasn’t lost on him. Here he’d fall to his own ruin, in the blackness of night, away from the world. He prayed Charlotte knew he loved her. Not for this land. Not for this forest. But just because she was Charlotte. Thinking of her caused him to sit taller on his mount.
“I’m sure you recall this field,” Christopher said as he dismounted and tied up his horse.
“All too well,” Alex replied. A shiver ran the length of his spine, and his hands had not ceased their tremoring since he’d started riding. He raked a hand through his hair.
What had seemed seconds ago to be a terrible, distant future was now his real and immediate situation.
Christopher turned to Joseph and Moxham. He pointed to the ground in front of him. “You are to hand your man the weapon, uncocked. We will pace to fifteen, and on Joseph’s count of three, we turn and each fire one shot.” A smile more evil than Alex had ever seen pulled up one side of Christopher’s cheek. “And I think one shot is all we need to discuss.”
Alex swallowed. Christopher would not miss. He had always been an expert marksman, even when they were boys.
Boys. The weight of the word nearly suffocated Alex. That’s what they had been once. Despite the passage of years, it did not feel so very distant. When had they ceased being boys and turned into such animals? What was it about human nature and hatred that could drive this man, who once was his best friend, to such lengths now? Why did men sometimes lust for carnage with so much hatred? With no respect for decency and human life?
“Chris, please.” Alex couldn’t stop the words. “We were friends here once. Can you not forgive my past? It was your father against mine. It doesn’t have to be so between us—”
“Silence!” Chris yelled. “Seconds, take your places.”
Unbidden, a hot tear escaped down Alex’s face as he turned his back. He drew a breath and thought of Charlotte, thought of her smiling face and their perfect kiss, and it gave him courage despite his trembling limbs. He felt the cold metal push against his hand from Moxham, and he closed his grip around the pistol. The weapon felt heavy and evil in his hands. He didn’t bother to cock it.
Why he even held the thing he wasn’t sure; it would be useless against the villain who stood behind him.
“One,” Chris counted their paces with a loud voice. “Two, three, four.”
Alex raised his head, making eye contact with Moxham as he paced long strides. He hadn’t even had time to thank his friend for their time together. Or tell Charlotte that, despite everything, there was still hope for her to be happy and how sorry he was that he hadn’t spoken about her land with her.
“Ten, eleven, twelve.”
The vision of a mine came into Alex’s mind. The dark walls pressed against him. The air filled with sordid gas. He’d almost died there once but had pulled Moxham from those pits with what he’d thought would be his last breaths. He hadn’t been able to save Rhys then. Now he couldn’t even save himself.
“Fifteen.”
Alex stopped pacing and closed his eyes.
“Turn on the count of three,” Joseph yelled from across the clearing. “One. Two. Three.”
Chapter 33
Charlotte raced Penny toward thespot she guessed the duel would be held but couldn’t see any signs of the men. Then, in the filtered moonlight, she saw a group of four horses tied close together just outside the thickest section of forest. That meant they were already here, inside the clearing. Was she too late?
