Read Online Drums of Autumn by Diana Gabaldon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Diana Gabaldon
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sharply, leaving puffs of pale dust floating in the lantern light.
The darkness seemed engulfing after the light; despite the moon, I could see almost nothing. The night enfolded us. I felt the relief of a hunted animal that finds safe refuge, and in spite of the oppressive heat, I breathed more freely.
We covered a distance of nearly a quarter mile before anyone spoke.
“Are ye wounded, Mr. Bonnet?” Ian spoke in a loud whisper, just audible over the rattle of the wagon.
“Yes, he’s pinked me in the thigh, damn the puppy.” Bonnet’s voice was low, but calm. “Thank Christ he left off before the blood soaked through the shroud. Dead men don’t bleed.”
“Are you hurt badly? Shall I come back and have a look at it?” I twisted around. Bonnet had pushed back the canvas cover and was sitting up, a vague pale shape in the darkness.
“No, I thank ye, ma’am. I’ve my stocking wound round it and ’twill serve well enough, I expect.” My night vision was returning; I could see the gleam of fair hair as he bent his head to his task.
“Can ye walk, do ye think?” Jamie slowed the horses to a walk, and twisted round to inspect our guest. While his tone was not inhospitable, it was clear that he would prefer to be rid of our dangerous cargo as soon as possible.
“Not easily, no. I’m that sorry, sir.” Bonnet was aware of Jamie’s eagerness to be rid of him, too. With some difficulty, he hoisted himself up in the wagon bed, rising onto his good knee behind the seat. His lower half was invisible in darkness, but I could smell the blood on him, a sharper scent than the lingering faint reek of Gavin’s shroud.
“A suggestion, Mr. Fraser. In three miles, we’ll come to the Ferry Trail road. A mile past the crossroads, another road leads toward the coast. It’s little more than a pair of ruts, but passable. That will take us to the edge of a creek with an outlet to the sea. Some associates of mine will be puttin’ in to anchor there within the week; if ye would grant me some small stock of provisions, I can await them in reasonable safety, and you can be on your way, free o’ the taint of my company.”
“Associates? Ye mean pirates?” Ian’s voice held a certain amount of wariness. Having been abducted from Scotland by pirates, he invested such persons with none of the romanticism normal to a fifteen-year-old.
“That would depend upon your perspective, lad.” Bonnet sounded amused. “Certainly the governors of the Carolinas would call them so; the merchants of Wilmington and Charleston perhaps regard them otherwise.”
Jamie gave a brief snort. “Smugglers, aye? And what might these associates of yours be dealing in, then?”
“Whatever will fetch a price to make it worth the risk of carrying.” The amusement had not left Bonnet’s voice, but was now tinged with cynicism. “Will you be wanting some reward for your assistance? That can be managed.”
“I do not.” Jamie’s voice was cold. “I saved you for Gavin Hayes’ sake, and for my own. I wouldna seek reward for such service.”
“I meant no offense to ye, sir.” Bonnet’s head inclined slightly toward us.
“None taken,” Jamie answered shortly. He shook out the reins and wrapped them afresh, changing hands.
Conversation lapsed after this small clash, though Bonnet continued to ride kneeling behind us, peering over my shoulder at the dark road ahead. There were no more soldiers, though; nothing moved, not even a breath of wind in the leaves. Nothing disturbed the silence of the summer night save the occasional thin zeek of a passing night bird, or the hooting of an owl.
The soft rhythmic thump of the horses’ hooves in the dust and the squeak and rattle of the wagon began to lull me to sleep. I tried to keep upright, watching the black shadows of the trees along the road, but found myself gradually inclining toward Jamie, my eyes falling shut despite my best efforts.
Jamie transferred the reins to his left hand, and
The darkness seemed engulfing after the light; despite the moon, I could see almost nothing. The night enfolded us. I felt the relief of a hunted animal that finds safe refuge, and in spite of the oppressive heat, I breathed more freely.
We covered a distance of nearly a quarter mile before anyone spoke.
“Are ye wounded, Mr. Bonnet?” Ian spoke in a loud whisper, just audible over the rattle of the wagon.
“Yes, he’s pinked me in the thigh, damn the puppy.” Bonnet’s voice was low, but calm. “Thank Christ he left off before the blood soaked through the shroud. Dead men don’t bleed.”
“Are you hurt badly? Shall I come back and have a look at it?” I twisted around. Bonnet had pushed back the canvas cover and was sitting up, a vague pale shape in the darkness.
“No, I thank ye, ma’am. I’ve my stocking wound round it and ’twill serve well enough, I expect.” My night vision was returning; I could see the gleam of fair hair as he bent his head to his task.
“Can ye walk, do ye think?” Jamie slowed the horses to a walk, and twisted round to inspect our guest. While his tone was not inhospitable, it was clear that he would prefer to be rid of our dangerous cargo as soon as possible.
“Not easily, no. I’m that sorry, sir.” Bonnet was aware of Jamie’s eagerness to be rid of him, too. With some difficulty, he hoisted himself up in the wagon bed, rising onto his good knee behind the seat. His lower half was invisible in darkness, but I could smell the blood on him, a sharper scent than the lingering faint reek of Gavin’s shroud.
“A suggestion, Mr. Fraser. In three miles, we’ll come to the Ferry Trail road. A mile past the crossroads, another road leads toward the coast. It’s little more than a pair of ruts, but passable. That will take us to the edge of a creek with an outlet to the sea. Some associates of mine will be puttin’ in to anchor there within the week; if ye would grant me some small stock of provisions, I can await them in reasonable safety, and you can be on your way, free o’ the taint of my company.”
“Associates? Ye mean pirates?” Ian’s voice held a certain amount of wariness. Having been abducted from Scotland by pirates, he invested such persons with none of the romanticism normal to a fifteen-year-old.
“That would depend upon your perspective, lad.” Bonnet sounded amused. “Certainly the governors of the Carolinas would call them so; the merchants of Wilmington and Charleston perhaps regard them otherwise.”
Jamie gave a brief snort. “Smugglers, aye? And what might these associates of yours be dealing in, then?”
“Whatever will fetch a price to make it worth the risk of carrying.” The amusement had not left Bonnet’s voice, but was now tinged with cynicism. “Will you be wanting some reward for your assistance? That can be managed.”
“I do not.” Jamie’s voice was cold. “I saved you for Gavin Hayes’ sake, and for my own. I wouldna seek reward for such service.”
“I meant no offense to ye, sir.” Bonnet’s head inclined slightly toward us.
“None taken,” Jamie answered shortly. He shook out the reins and wrapped them afresh, changing hands.
Conversation lapsed after this small clash, though Bonnet continued to ride kneeling behind us, peering over my shoulder at the dark road ahead. There were no more soldiers, though; nothing moved, not even a breath of wind in the leaves. Nothing disturbed the silence of the summer night save the occasional thin zeek of a passing night bird, or the hooting of an owl.
The soft rhythmic thump of the horses’ hooves in the dust and the squeak and rattle of the wagon began to lull me to sleep. I tried to keep upright, watching the black shadows of the trees along the road, but found myself gradually inclining toward Jamie, my eyes falling shut despite my best efforts.
Jamie transferred the reins to his left hand, and
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