2

The musket bucked against Joseph’s shoulder. A cloud of smoke billowed back on him. He dropped behind the log and scrambled for more powder and another ball. The ramrod made smooth time down the shaft and out again, but before he could slip it back into place, a motion drew his gaze to where he’d tied Hunter. Reins hooped the animal’s neck and turned him away. A buckskin clad leg hung from the saddle—almost the only thing visible of the Mohawk brave astride.

“No.” Joseph almost jumped to his feet to pursue the renegade, but that would make him an easy target for the man’s friends. And he couldn’t shoot without risking the horse. He dropped his musket and scrambled along the length of the log. Under cover of the new foliage that surrounded him, he raced to intercept Hunter and the brave.

The man hunched low over the saddle was in the motion of kicking Hunter into a run when Joseph caught up, coming at them from the side. He gripped the shirt hanging around the man’s middle and yanked him off the animal’s high back.

The brave proved quite a bit lighter than anticipated, and his body flew against Joseph’s, slamming him to the ground. With a twist, Joseph threw him off and aimed a fist into his face. The warrior, not more than a youth, reeled back, and Joseph rotated over him to pin him to the ground.

Like a bobcat, claws slashed across Joseph’s face.

He caught the offending hand, while his own dropped to search the boy’s person for a knife or other weapon. The waist was surprisingly slim compared to the hips and… A decidedly feminine gasp jerked Joseph’s hands back.

A mistake.

The brave’s knuckles wiped across his face, followed by a sharp knee to the ribs. Joseph grunted and pushed himself away. Worse mistake−the equivalent of holding a cougar by the tail, leaving all other appendages free to attack. All he could do was fall on his back in an attempt to fend her off. The little Iroquois warrior was female!

How was he supposed to fight a girl? He almost felt bad for punching her, and probably would if she wasn’t determined to return the favor a hundred fold.

Abruptly her attack broke off. She grabbed toward the knife in his boot.

“No, you don’t.” Joseph tried to jerk his leg away, but only succeeded in helping her draw the blade. He lurched backward just as a shot rang from only yards away.

The girl spun and fell in the same motion.

“Joseph?”

Even Andrew’s call couldn’t pull his gaze from the girl as she pawed at her sleeve and the growing crimson stain. Her hand shook as it hovered over the wound, never actually touching it. High pitched squeaks, like an unhappy mouse, were the only sound she made despite the obvious pain. The problem was, she didn’t do anything to hinder the bleeding, and it wouldn’t stop on its own.

Joseph grabbed the knife from where she’d dropped it, and stooped over her. She flinched as he reached for her sleeve.

“I won’t hurt you.”

Andrew pulled his horse up short and swung down.

It had never bothered Joseph until now that one of them had decent aim from the saddle.

“Thank goodness you are alive. When I saw that…” Andrew looked down at their captive and frowned. “Oh, dear. A woman? I thought−”

“And you were probably right.” Joseph sliced through the heavy sleeve and peeled it away from the chunk of missing flesh just above her elbow. The ball had barely caught her, but enough to leave a deep gash. “She was, no doubt, trying her best to kill me.”

She gave a bit of a squeak as though about to protest, before clamping her mouth shut. Big brown eyes watered as he cinched a strip of cloth over her arm, and he couldn’t quite push past a twinge of regret. What was a little thing like her doing out with a raiding party anyway? Besides stealing horses?

“What do you intend we do with her?”

He pushed to his feet. “You figure it out. You’re the one who shot her.”

Andrew glared. “In order to preserve your life.”

Joseph slipped his knife back where it belonged and stole another look at the girl and her painted face. Black hair hung over her shoulders almost to her waist, feathers braided throughout—along with several twigs, plenty of dried leaves and spruce needles. She didn’t look at him in return, instead stared at her arm and the makeshift bandage. “So you’re suggesting I couldn’t defend myself against a little girl?”

The young woman’s head snapped up, and she leveled a glower at him.

He’d have to keep in mind that she understood at least part of what they said.

“You were the one flat on your back while she wielded the knife,” Andrew stated flatly. “Your knife. The fact remains, we need to do something with her. And quickly.”

Joseph had no answer.

“She is both injured and without a horse. Surely you do not think it best to leave her out here?”

Of course not.

Her friends were hopefully riding hard in the opposite direction.

“You’re right, she may go back to burning farms,” Joseph said.

“Perhaps Mr. Reid or one of the other men will have an acceptable solution.”

Turn her over to a bunch of angry frontiersmen? Better for them to never know she existed. “No. No one else need be involved.” It was too easy to lose control of a situation.

The frown on Andrew’s face deepened. “So you suggest we take her home, perhaps hide her there until she recovers…” His eyes took on a twinkle. “Something in this rings with familiarity.”

Joseph wiped his wrist against the moisture dripping from his forehead. “Which makes it completely unacceptable.” They didn’t need a replay of events from four years ago. No matter how well that had finally ended for his sister and Andrew Wyndham. “Rachel is not to be involved this time.”

He turned to the girl and scratched his scalp. Under the red and black paint she appeared completely bereft of color, and her whole body shivered as though she were cold.

Andrew came beside him. “How do you expect to keep her from your sister?”

“I don’t know.” But Joseph had a few miles to figure that out. “Let’s get her on my horse.” Before the others found them.

“You will not be able to keep this a secret.”

Joseph grunted. He knew as much from experience, but mostly he just wanted to keep things simple. For a little while anyway.

~*~

Strong, calloused fingers wrapped Hannah’s good arm, and she flinched. She wasn’t sure why. Though her panic had done neither of them any favors, Joseph didn’t strike her as the kind of man who would purposefully harm a woman−never had. Her throbbing jaw would have thanked him to realize her gender a few minutes earlier.

Joseph Garnet.

The past six years had taken all his boyishness away. He’d been almost twenty last she’d seen him, but the maturity, the more definitive line of his jaw, the broadening of his shoulders…Hannah shook her head, both to clear the word handsome from her head and the sudden blackening of her vision as he drew her to her feet. Thankfully the cloud soon cleared.

“Who are you?”

Hannah dropped her gaze from Joseph’s searching one. She should be relieved he didn’t recognize her, but instead she felt a little hurt. Why should he remember her? He’d already been a man, while she’d only been a girl of thirteen. Hardly more than a child in the eyes of Joseph Garnet. Even Fannie Reid, three years her senior, hadn’t been successful at garnering his attention.

A low grunt merged into a growl. “You understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”

She should tell him the truth. He obviously didn’t want to be put upon by her, so it would probably be easy enough to convince him to let her go. But then she might never find her brothers. Her cousin would drag her north again to the Great Lakes, leaving her without answers.

“Fine,” Joseph stated. “You don’t try to kill me, and I won’t try to kill you. Agreed?”

She afforded him the slightest nod.

He replied with another grunt.

His large hands embraced her waist and lifted her onto Hunter’s back. Again the world swayed and darkened, until his grip returned. He swung up behind her in the saddle and shoved her forward onto the pummel. A jolt of agony speared from her wound, evoking a gasp. He cinched her against his solid chest and reined the stallion away.

The man who had shot her, whom she didn’t recognize, soon caught up with them on a gelding she did know. Sorrowful had only been a fresh-broke colt when her family was driven from their home. Joseph had sat tall in his saddle, blue eyes like stone.

“Go on, then, while I inform Mr. Reid of our withdrawal. I shall catch up with you as soon as I am able.” His tone was decidedly formal. Very British.

“But you won’t say anything concerning her?”

“You do not trust even him?”

Joseph released a breath that heated her ear. “Do as you see fit.”

The man nodded. “I shall.”

As the sorrel dug dirt with his hooves, speeding away, Hannah forced herself to relax a little more. Mostly for the sake of her head, as the throbbing in her jaw expanded into her temples. Even the base of her neck ached, either from the fall or the abrupt force of Joseph’s fist. All of that, however, proved no rival for the hot agony burning through her arm.

Splashes of sun spilled through the high branches overhead and flashed across her vision as they moved. Hannah closed her eyes. She had to make a plan. Her family’s homestead neighbored Garnet’s. Did anything remain? Anything that would help her find her brothers? After six years, she’d hoped Myles and Samuel would be released from their bondage in the Continental Army and allowed home. Would they have returned to the valley, or did they seek their family farther north? Or were they dead, too?

Coming across the main trail along the river, Joseph nudged Hunter to a lope.

Though the horse’s gait was one of the smoothest she’d ridden, the rocking did nothing for her arm or her head. She gritted her teeth and gripped more of his mane. Anger surged. Joseph Garnet cared nothing for her comfort or lack thereof. Always distant. Always aloof. For all she knew he had agreed with the men who forced her mother to flee their home because of Pa’s loyalties to the crown. And compelled her brothers to fight a war that was not their own. No. She wouldn’t trust Joseph Garnet to help her. Only his pa.