Sorry it took so long to post this chapter, folks. The truth is, I needed some extra time to rethink and re-plan. I hope that this chapter is enjoyable to you!
The cold December wind rushed through the snow-covered trees, rustling the branches. The moon peeked through the forest cover, with a dim light, to look down on a small group clustered at the road's fork. The group was composed of three horses, waiting patiently, and three young men. The first rested his rifle on the ground and pushed back his hat to reveal carefully combed dark hair and the familiar face of Jonathan Guyer.
"Which way do you think they went, Robert?" He turned his attention to another young man.
Robert looked up, his brown eyes concerned. "I don't know."
"If anyone can find out, Dimar can." Jonathan said, and the two turned their attention to the Cherokee boy, who was crouching in the snow to examine the wagon tracks.
Dimar glanced up at them, his dark eyes disappointed. "I cannot tell. The tracks are too mixed." he stood and shifted his bow to the other arm.
In the dim lantern light, Jonathan could read worry in Robert's face. The young man was of such a quiet and guarded personality that it was usually hard to know what he was thinking. But I can see what he's thinking about right now, Jonathan mused. It's written all over his face: Celia.
He thought back over the afternoon and evening. When Dimar and Sallie had arrived in Franklin that afternoon, the three young men had decided to follow the trail immediately. A woman near Franklin had given them their most important clue yet: that three men wearing black masks had driven past at about 10 o'clock that morning. After following the road for quite some time, and asking at numerous houses, they had trailed the three men and their wagon some ten miles south of Franklin. Now they had reached another fork in the road and this time there were no houses within sight.
Dimar's voice broke into Jonathan's reverie. "We need to split up. Jonathan, you and Robert follow that road; I'll take this one." he motioned with his bow. "Do you know what time it is?"
Robert took his watch out of his pocket and held it up to the light. "It's fifteen minutes past eight. What time shall we meet back here?"
"Eleven." Dimar said, turning to go.
Robert held out his watch. "Keep it for a little while. Jonathan has one."
Dimar took it with a nod of thanks. "All right. Let's go."
The night was dark and cold. Celia pulled her coat tighter as she slowly threaded her way through the dimly-lit woods. She had been watching from behind a tree when the guard had recaptured Mandie and Joe, and had realized that it was up to her to fetch help. Only a dozen feet to her left was the road leading away from the cabin. Celia had started to follow it, then decided to stay under cover in the woods. It was taking a risk, she knew, because if anyone followed her, they could track her footprints in the untouched snow much more easily than in a wagon track. But maybe whoever chased her would take the road without stopping to look for footprints. At any rate, she knew she had to find help.
Suddenly, Celia's sharp ears caught the steady crunch of hoofbeats in the snow. She ducked behind a bushy tree and watched the road.
A black-swathed form atop a horse flew by, the horse moving as swiftly in the snow. As the sound faded away, Celia let out a sigh of relief and continued on her way, quickening her pace. Once the rider realized she wasn't on the road, he would double back and, more than likely, search for footprints. She had to hurry.
Time passed slowly for Elizabeth as she waited for news of Mandie. She was seated in the parlor beside the flickering fire, absentmindedly flipping through the pages of a book when Sallie entered.
Elizabeth looked up at the Indian girl. "Any word?"
"No." Sallie sat down, her long dark braid draped over her shoulder. "Do not worry, Mrs. Shaw, my grandfather and the Cherokee people will find Mandie very soon. They always have before."
Elizabeth forced a laugh. "I suppose they do have some degree of experience in looking for her."
Sallie smiled at that.
A knock sounded on the door. Sallie and Elizabeth turned toward it hopefully, and the Indian girl rose to answer it. When she returned to the parlor, her face was puzzled.
"There was no one there, Mrs. Shaw," she said, "Only this letter for you." She handed the sealed envelope to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth took it and turned it over in curiosity. There was no postmark or stamp—it had been delivered personally. She tore the envelope open and took out a single sheet of paper. She read it, and instantly her cheeks flushed in anger.
"Mrs. Shaw?" Sallie asked, observing the lady's change of color.
"It's a ransom note." Elizabeth said in clipped tones, thrusting the note back into its envelope. She was clearly angry. "Someone is asking a ridiculous amount of money for Amanda's release." She rose to her feet and started out of the room. "I'm going to find John."
Time passed, and Celia continued her tiring tramp. It seemed like hours had passed since she'd left the cabin. She sat down on a log to catch her breath and think. She would not be able to go much further unless the walking was easier. And the only place that walking was easier was in the road.
It was a risk—but if she wore herself out completely, how would she find help for Mandie and Joe? She drew in a deep breath and was about to step out of the cover of the trees when she heard hoofbeats again.
Celia shrank behind a tree and waited.
In the dim moonlight, a dark figure slowly rode past. He was gazing intently into the undergrowth when he thought he saw a movement. He paused, dismounted, and started cautiously into the darkness of the forest towards Celia.
Behind the tree, Celia froze. He had seen her! She paused for a split second, then packed some snow into a hard ball and threw it across the road. The snowball crashed against a tree, and the guard whirled towards the sound. He waited a moment, and Celia watched with bated breath. After what seemed like an eternity to the girl, the guard slowly started into the woods on the opposite side of the road, his pistol drawn.
As soon as he was out of sight, Celia crept silently out onto the road, keeping the waiting horse between herself and the guard. Hopefully he wouldn't see her if he glanced back.
Celia's heart was in her throat as she stole to the animal and pulled herself up on his back.
"Giddyap!" she whispered into the horse's ear, slapping him on the rump. With a snort, the animal leaped into action. Celia flattened herself against his neck and held on.
Seconds later the guard burst from the underbrush and looked around. He aimed his pistol at Celia and fired. She heard the report of the pistol and a bullet whizzed past, then the horse dashed around a curve of the road and out of range of gunfire.