Amanda's Story

The Fight and Flight

In Rachel's mind, she was rushing toward spies and horse thieves in the midst of a brawl in the canyon. The last thing she expected was a man running towards her. The shadow of the rock cliff had darkened her view so that she didn't even see him until he was a step in front of her. He grunted and bared his teeth, and she screamed and threw out her hands, hitting his chest. With a snarl threw her aside and kept running.

Beauchamps was at her side in half a second, catching her before she slipped into the brooklet. He only propped her safely behind him, though, and turned and renewed his pursuit.

Her head rang; she must have hit the rock. She stumbled forward, seeking to get out of the crevice that felt tighter and more foreboding by the second. When she came out of the crack, she moved to the nearest rock and sat down, cradling her head in both hands.

The ringing subsided slowly, and in its place she began to make out sounds: a dull thump, a grunt, an answering grunt, more thuds as if someone dropped a heavy flour sack repeatedly. She heard a horse snort and make a fretful whinny. Then there was a shout, and the horse neighed in fright.

Rachel snapped her head up. She was sure it was Battelle; he was still here, not stolen as she'd feared. She peered through the leaves and saw a flash of white, then another. She squinted.

Thud. Thump. Her eyes flew wide as she realized the sounds were men engaged in a fistfight, pummeling the stomach and ribs and scuffling near the horses.

She was on her feet and moving toward the scene before she thought what her purpose would be. Could she join in the fight? Maybe take her riding quip and lash the culprit? Maybe a well-aimed rock...

Just as she reached the edge of the clearing, one of the brawlers sank in a heap. The victor shook his long hair from his face and turned to her: Humphrey Barker, coatless, with a swollen eye and split lip. She sighed, gave him a wordless wave, then pushed herself to move to the side of Battelle, shushing and calming him until his eyes quit rolling and he dropped his muzzle. He'd crowhopped several feet from where he'd been tied, the force of the leaps making the hobbles cut into the thin flesh along his fetlock. Blood dripped over his hooves. She leaned down and began to unhook the device so she could take a look.

Humphrey and Devyn were just dragging the unconscious assailant away when a hoot and loud splashing sounded from down the ravine. They all turned to see Beauchamps leaping over rock and tree, coming at a full run.

"It's Amanda! She's been swept down river!"

Rachel froze in terror. Her mind locked on the detail of the cold, frothy water at the edge of the river. Amanda was in the river?

As Beauchamps reached her, she went into action. She threw the hobbles away while he mounted, then untied the reins and threw them up to him. He locked gazes with her.

"I'll find her."

He kicked his heels and Battelle leaped forward, scrambling out of the glade and cutting up the rocky path as fast as Beauchamps could manage him. They disappeared, but not before Rachel had moved to Jenny and begun to untie her reins as well.

"Miss Rachel! You can't think of following."

"Why not?" She shot a glare so heated at Devyn that he raised both hands in surrender.

"Please, Beauchamps knew these fellows, some ruffian gang he's been hunting. He's sure they're French spies."

"If I recall, the French spies are here, one on the ground, one back at the river. It's my sister that's my concern now. You watch the spies." She launched herself into the saddle, not caring that she rode astride with skirts around her thighs. She flicked her riding crop and Jenny leaped forward, moving out of the canyon as fast as she could.

She glanced back only once. Mr. Barker was tying the wrists of the downed man, and Mr. Watson was hurrying back to the river bank. She set her face forward with determination, gritted her teeth, and set off at a full gallop once she was out of the ravine.