Soul of the Fire

The night was pleasant, warm enough to be comfortable, and not so warm that the walk would work up a sweat. And the moon was out. A pleasant night for a brisk walk back to the estate. She snugged her cream-colored shawl around her shoulders, covering her skin, though there wasn't as much flesh showing as Fitch had seen before.

She could have sat down on a bench and waited for one of the carriages that regularly ran back and forth between the estate and the city, but she didn't. There was really no need. When a carriage caught up with her as she walked back, she could always take it then, if she tired of walking.

Rowley was off to insure that the carriage was delayed with an errand.

Fitch waited with the rest of the men, where Rowley told them to wait, and watched Claudine Winthrop walking.briskly up the road. The beat of the music strummed in Fitch's head. The sound felt, connected to the pounding of his heart.

He watched her coming up the road, his finger tapping against his bent knee as the shawm played a bouncy tune Fitch knew, called "Round the Well and Back," about a man chasing a woman he loved, but who always ignored him. the man finally had enough and chased her in the song until he caught her. He then held her down and asked her to wed him. She said yes. Then the man lost his nerve and she was the one who chased him round the well and back.

As Claudine strode down the road, she looked to be less comfortable with her decision to walk. She glanced at the fields of wheat to her right and the sorghum to her left. She quickened up her pace as the light of the city fell away behind her. Only moonlight accompanied her down the ribbon of road between the silent fields to each side.

Fitch, squatted down on the balls of his feet, could feel himself rocking, his heart was pounding so hard. He wished he wasn't there, going to do what he was going to do. He knew nothing would ever be the same again.

He wondered, too, if he really would be able to do as he had been told to do. He wondered if he would have the nerve. There were enough other men, after all. He wouldn't really have to do anything. They could do it.

But Dalton Campbell wanted him to do it. Wanted him to learn what was necessary when people didn't do as they promised they would do. Wanted him to be part of the team of messengers.

He had to do this to be part of the team. To really be part. They wouldn't be afraid like he was. He couldn't show his fear.

He was frozen, staring wide-eyed as she got closer, her shoes crunching against the road. He felt terror rising up inside at the whole idea. He wished she would turn around and run. She was still far enough away. It had seemed so simple when he had nodded to Dalton Campbell's instructions.

It sounded plain enough when he stood there in Dalton Campbell's office, as he explained it. In the light. It made sense in the light. Fitch had tried to help her with a warning. It wasn't his fault she went against orders.

It seemed altogether different in the dark, out in a field, as he watched her, all alone, getting closer.

He set his jaw. He couldn't let the others down. They would be proud of him for being as tough as they. He would show them he could be one of them.

This was his new life. He didn't want to go back to the kitchen. Back to Gillie twisting his ear and scolding him for his vile Haken ways. Back to being "Fetch," like he was before Dalton Campbell gave him a chance to prove himself.

Fitch nearly cried out in startled fright when Morley sprang up, lunging for the woman.

Before he had time to think, Fitch flew after his friend.

Claudine gasped. She tried to cry out, but Morley clamped a meaty hand over her mouth as he and Fitch tackled her. Fitch whacked his elbow painfully against the ground as they all crashed to the road. The impact drove a deep grunt from her as Morley landed on her with all his weight.

Her arms flailed. Her legs kicked. She tried to scream, but couldn't get much out. They were far enough out that no one was likely to hear even if she did.

She seemed all elbows and knees. She twisted and fought for her life. Fitch finally snagged one of her arms and twisted it behind her back. Morley got a good grip on her other arm and hauled her to her feet. With a cord, Fitch secured her wrists behind her back as Morley stuffed a rag in her mouth and tied a gag around her head.

Morley and Fitch each grabbed her under an arm and started dragging her down the road. She dug in her heels, twisting and pulling. The other men swarmed all around. Two of them each grappled a leg and lifted her clear of the ground. Another man took a hold of her hair.

Together, the five of them, with the others in a tight knot around them, trotted maybe another half mile down the road, farther away from the city. Claudine Winthrop, in the clutch of terror, screamed against the gag. She wrenched and squirmed violently the whole way.

She had good cause to be in such panic, after what she'd done.