Come the Dawn (27 page)

“Nonsense. It’s wonderful to be out of London.” India patted the gelding’s neck. “It reminds me of a time in Calcutta when Ian and I finally managed to escape from an awful governess Mama had saddled us with. With the help of our Parsi groom, we rode hell for leather for hours. It was the most perfect fun — until we were stopped by a band of dacoits in the hills, that is. One nasty fellow wanted to string Ian up by his toes and see how long it took the vultures to finish him off. The others wanted to do something that sounded even more painful. Since our Hindi was limited, we never were sure what they had in mind.” She shrugged cheerfully. “Then they discovered I was a female and turned more horrible still. But I began to spin about and wave my hands, chanting strangely. Of course they wanted nothing to do with a madwoman, since they were very superstitious.”

“Lucky for you, else they never would ha’ been fooled by a green girl like
you.”

“Don’t be gloomy, Froggett. It only makes your rheumatism flare up, you know. As I was saying, everything turned out well in the end. Finally they paid
Ian
to take me away from their camp, because they were convinced that I was possessed by
rakshas
and would bring them nothing but bad luck.”

“And so you would have, for a person with a greater aptitude for trouble I have yet to meet.” The groom sniffed. “What is a
raksha?”

“An evil spirit. I found a packet of fireworks that Father had brought back for me from Macao. I tossed them into the fire when the camp was asleep, startling all the horses. Ian caught on and began demanding more and more money to take me off their hands. He was enjoying himself immensely.” She smiled. “In the end they offered a lordly sum and threw in two Marathi daggers into the bargain. Very good steel they were, too.”

“No need of heathen weapons to see us murdered tonight. Good English steel will see us dead well enough,” Froggett predicted grimly.

“Why? I’ve pistols in my cuff and a dagger in my boot. I am not at all worried.” India smoothed Ian’s old jacket about her slender hips. “We are simply a groom and his assistant, off to view some prime horseflesh at Norwich.”

“Who’s the groom and who’s the assistant, that’s what I want to know?”

“I’m the assistant, of course,” India said loftily. “What could possibly be dangerous about
that?”

“Ain’t enough time in the day to list all the things,” Froggett muttered.

Nor did his face grow happier as the miles sped past. With the city behind them, they plunged into lonely countryside. Froggett envisioned a dozen smugglers or highwaymen lying in wait behind every bend in the road.

“Admit that it’s a fine adventure.” India reined in her great gelding and pulled out a chunk of Cheshire cheese wrapped in oiled paper. She broke off a piece for Froggett.

“Oh, it’s fine all right. Many’s the man who found danger on a fine night when he least expected it. And there’ll be the devil to pay when your grandmother and brothers hear about this, Miss India. Lucky if I don’t get sacked for
this
piece of madness.”

“Bosh,” India said, chewing thoughtfully on the other half of the cheese. “No blame will be laid at your door, dearest Froggett. My brothers know me too well to think anyone else planned this.” She studied the horizon to the east, where the night sky lay like velvet over the deeper black of the hills. “Besides, the Red Lion is just over that hill, unless I miss my guess. We’ll put up there for a few hours before we push on to Suffolk.”

“I still say as how this is a stupid idea. The whole area’s rife with footpads and highwaymen.”

“Which is why I’m carrying two loaded pistols.”

“Who’s to say this Frenchman ain’t a highwayman himself?”

“He wouldn’t
buy
gems in that case, would he?” India studied the moon, just creeping over the horizon. “He would simply hunt down a carriage and take what he wanted, like Luc used to do. No, my intuition tells me that this Frenchman is the man we want.”

Froggett snorted. “Heaven help us if we’re relying on
your
intuition.”

India laughed and brought her magnificent mount to the little stream bubbling down the hillside. The great animal neighed and bent low to drink. “Just a few miles more, Froggett. Then it’s a nice bed for you and a rasher of oats for Hannibal to—”

Suddenly the great gelding’s head rose. Whinnying, he stepped back from the stream.

Up the bank a dozen shadows edged from the greenery. The furtive way they moved reminded India of a windy night and a band of angry dacoits.

One man inched in front of the others. “Now just fancy what we’ve got here,” he said coldly, raising a pistol. “Mebbe our luck’s about to change.”

“Stop where you are, cur.” Froggett pulled a pistol from his pocket and spurred in front of India. “Unless you want a gaping hole between your ugly eyes.”

Instantly a dozen more pistols leveled on Froggett.

“Put your weapons down, all of you,” India said quickly. “I’m sure we can discuss this in a civilized fashion.”

“In a pig’s eye,” the groom muttered.

The leader of the sullen band pointed at India. “Get down off that horse, whelp. Otherwise the old man dies.”

India slid her hand along her shirt cuff, reassured by the outline of the pistol hidden there. “No reason for threats. My friend and I mean you no harm.”

“No harm!” The man threw back his head and roared with laughter. “They mean us no harm, did you hear that, lads?” Laughter rang over the hillside, making India’s mount dance restlessly. “Now climb down from that horse and turn it over.”

“I don’t think you want me to do that.”

“No? And why is that?”

India shrugged. “You’ll see.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Talk damned careful for a stable boy. Where do you come from?”

“I don’t believe that’s any of your business.”

A pistol glinted in the moonlight. “Mebbe I’m
making
it my business, whelp. Let’s have your name.”

“Jeremiah,” India said coolly.

“Big name for a mighty scrawny creature,” the man said thoughtfully. “A sight too big for that horse, too. Now climb off, boy, like I told you.”

“If you insist.” India slid from the horse and took a step back, her face expressionless.

“Going to ride the big brute, are you, Will?” someone called from the ragged circle of followers.

“What if I am?” the man growled. He moved closer and patted the animal’s muscled neck. Emboldened when the horse did not pull away, he slid a foot into the stirrups.

Still no reaction.

Another second and he was in the saddle, smiling in triumph.

But the smile did not last. Neighing loudly, the horse reared, throwing his hapless rider head over heels into a row of thornbushes. He landed to the accompaniment of loud laughter from his band.

The bushes rustled and the man named Will reappeared, his steps pained. “I’ll teach you,” he swore, pulling a whip from his threadbare jacket. “You’ll not try that trick on me again, you great brute.”

“It won’t work, you know,” India said coolly. “He’s trained to my bit and no one else can ride him.”

“Then he’ll soon learn better manners, won’t he?”

One of the others put a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Looks a damned expensive piece of horseflesh, Will Colton. Why not take him to the Frenchman?”

The band muttered uneasily.

“He deals in anything of rarity. This horse would fetch a nice guinea or two.”

The muttering grew to loud assent.

“And just how d’you expect to get the beast to the Frenchman’s ship?” Will demanded.

“Make the whelp ride him, since he’s so cocky.”

The leader smiled, struck by the reasonableness of this plan. “Aye, you’re right. Let the Frenchman teach these three some manners.” He laughed coldly and pointed his pistol at India. “You heard the man. Mount up.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Froggett snapped. “You can take yourselves off to hell and toast your eyebrows!”

The leader’s eyes hardened. “Is it a fight you’re after, old man? If so, you’ve got one.”

India slid into the saddle and kneed the great gelding between the two men. She thought of putting a bullet through the man’s head here and now, but one wrong move and the others would shoot her and Froggett. Far better to wait until they were spread out on the trail. Then there would be any number of chances to bolt. “Who is this Frenchman you’re muttering about?”

Will Colton smiled coldly. “Not healthy to ask too many questions of that sort, boy. Besides, you’ll be meeting the man soon enough. Reckon you can ask him all about hisself then,” he sneered. He waved sharply, and India was surrounded by riders.

And at the front of the line rode Froggett, with Colton’s pistol trained dead on his back.

~ ~ ~

They rode until the moon disappeared and the eastern sky had turned blood red. Colton directed them south toward the river. Aside from muttered threats, India had so far suffered no ill. Not one of the riders was brave enough to come close to Hannibal’s hooves.

No one showed any curiosity about where she and Froggett had come from. Being criminals themselves, the men obviously assumed that the pair had stolen the fine horse from the stables where they had formerly been employed.

At the top of a rise, Will Colton wheeled about and ordered a halt. Below them the Thames curled east, a restless ribbon threaded through a patchwork of small farms and villages.

“Are we there, yet?” India demanded.

“Soon.”

“Then why are we stopping?”

“Close yer mouth, boy. Not healthy to ask questions,” the man behind her snarled. “Fine horse or not, I can still put a ball through your cocky head.”

The rest of his words were swallowed up by the sounds of a rising argument. Half of the band wanted to stay where they were, while the other half insisted on going ahead to meet the pirate and smuggler who paid the best price for quality merchandise and information. But it appeared that the Frenchman’s wrath was awful if he was duped.

They were still arguing the point when the man at India’s side sat forward abruptly. “I thought as how that animal looked familiar!” He stared coldly at India. “Seen him once at Newmarket when I was picking pockets.” He inched his mount closer. “Damned fine piece o’ horseflesh. Look here, Will. That horse belongs to the Duke of Devonham,” he finished triumphantly.

“The duke what lives in Norfolk?” Will cantered closer. “Damned if these two ain’t had the barefaced gall to steal that horse out from under his nose.” He frowned. “But I heard stories about this horse. They say as how only the duke’s daughter can ride the brute. Her father bought her the animal in Egypt, where she picked him out herself, I hear tell.”

India sat stiffly as a row of angry eyes locked on her.
Bloody hell, what was she going to do now? She couldn’t bolt, not with Froggett caught in the cold sights of a pistol.

Hiding her fear, she shrugged grandly. “I had the stabling of the horse. Couldn’t a done that if I didn’t ride the animal, could I?” she said scornfully. But fear was what they would expect, so she gave a nervous laugh. “You won’t turn us back, will ye? He’ll have a reward out for us by now. A fat reward, if I know the bloody duke. And he’s got a hard hand with that heathen whip what he brung back from India.”

But her ploy failed.

The leader laughed sullenly. “Reward? Aye, the reward of a noose around all our necks, most like. No, I reckon we’ll not try the duke’s hospitality, not when we’re almost at the Frenchman’s doorstep. I hear tell he’s looking for treasures of all sorts these days — jewels, gold, silk. Mebbe a nice bit of horseflesh like this will interest him just as well.”

“What if they come after the horse?” one of his men muttered. “The duke’s son is damned handy with a pistol.”

“They’ll have to find us first,” Will said coldly.
“And how are they going to know where to look? Not like these two left a bleeding message when they was sneaking off in the dead of night with the duke’s horse.”

“Oh, they’ll find you,” India said fiercely. “And when they do, that soldier fellow who’s the duke’s son will split you from neck to knee. He’s damned protective about his property.”

A Babel of worried questions followed, but the leader quelled them with a harsh curse. “Shut up, the pack of you! The whelp’s just trying to frighten us. We been on the trail for four hours and seen no trace of anyone following us. We’re
safe,
I tell you. And the Frenchman’ll pay a tidy sum for that horse. Now who’s with me?”

Again the voices rose in angry discord.

India saw Froggett jerk his head, ordering her to break free and leave him, but she refused to consider it. They would shoot him in a second if she got away. Her only choice was to stay. She had been hoping to meet this mysterious pirate, after all.

But she fingered the knife in her boot grimly. Just let the man try to lay a single finger on her!

~ ~ ~

Their destination was a two-masted sloop called the
Gypsy
rocking at anchor in a wooded loop of the Thames. Clustered along the nearby pier were a dozen skiffs and dinghies and on the bank a crowd of merrymakers danced in the firelight.

India had a very bad feeling about this. But they wouldn’t take her or Froggett without a fight!

The man riding guard beside her laughed coldly. “Starting to sweat, boy?”

“It will take more than a wine-swilling, whey-faced foreigner to frighten me!”

“And I’m the bleedin’ king of England and we’ll see if you’re so clever when you’re facing the Frenchman. He’s got unnatural tastes, so they say.” At the head of the pier, men and women danced drunkenly around Colton as he jumped down and strode toward the sloop.

But his way was blocked by a tall man with one arm caught in a greasy sling. “Where do y’ think
yer
going?”