Frothy white foam and dusty sweat flecked the quivering black shoulders of Hermes as he caracoled around the clearing. Damn, they're not here! Constance kicked into her horse again and galloped away. She had searched every one of the places she thought her brother would chose for an ambush to no avail. Where in Hell are they? Hermes was growing more high-strung and unmanageable with every step he took. Constance was almost thrown from the saddle when the stallion kicked up his heels unexpectedly. The horse was really the least of her worries--finding her brother was priority. There was a beast gnawing within her stomach, threatening to break free if she did not find William. Something is going to happen….

"God damn it all! William Tavington, where are you!" she cried foolishly. Hermes started at the sudden boom of her voice and reared. Constance was flung out of her seat like a rag doll from the hand of an angry child. She landed initially on her left arm with a yelp but continued to roll with the fall.

The ebony stallion halted his antics and trotted with shamed grace to her side. He whickered and nudged her shoulder. Constance was crying, but managed to get up. Her arm was red and burning. A movement of the arm caused a wave of excruciating agony to sear along the entirety of the limb. The woman bit down on her lip as she hoisted herself back into the saddle.

William had been awake since the predawn hours. His little detachment had camped out by a stream for the night with hopes of moving out sometime that morning. The colonel had been on edge for the most of the night. He had difficulty sleeping with utter remorse. The chant of Bunny's going to Hell could not force its way out of his head. William had swooped to a new low, and he was well aware that no one would allow him to forget it for the rest of his miserable existence. Constance would be the one to admonish him most. He heard it already: "William Tavington, how on earth could you? Th-th-those people in the church…what possessed you to--" and then she would remember it and break down weeping and get the guilt-laden sympathy she so desired.

Women are so much more remorse inducing than the Lord General.

Bordon was coping…oddly. He did not much fancy the idea of leaving Constance to watch a burning church, nor did he relish the idea of the woman being in uniform. But there was nothing he could do now that they were some odd miles away. Still, it tore him up inside that she was in potential danger and no one was there to watch out for her. Fife was as close to protection he managed think of. But he would befriend everyone in sight, only to get them drunk and belligerent again. Captain Bordon gave way to sullenness as he ruminated on the fate of Constance.

"Damn it," Bordon hissed, pacing.

Tavington eyed his underling, knowing their thoughts had a common subject. "Captain, calm yourself. Fidgeting won't bring her here." Thank God!

"I know it won't!" Captain Bordon snapped. "And it's not so much I want her here, but more so that I'm worried about her with Wilkins and Fife."

Tavington shrugged. "Eh, one of them will kill the other, and I know she could fight of the one left." He rummaged through his things, looking for his razor and some soap. "It would be better if you did not worry so much about my sister and keep an eye out for yourself right now."

The captain nodded in concession, lowering his eyes, but then he snapped his visage back up to his superior. "How did you know I was thinking about your sister?"

"Well, Captain, considering you're fidgeting and have taken such an obvious liking to her…. I do have these funny little organs called eyes, believe it if you will." He raised his eyebrows emphatically and turned for the stream bank.

Bordon blushed and sat on a rock. He dug at the dirt with his toe, sullen.

Galloping hooves could be heard. Will's head peeked up over the bank and saw it was only another dragoon. He shrugged and crouched down again. Wait…. Tavington stood up again. He was furious, and in his rage, he almost shrilled out her name. Instead, he charged up the bank to the small rider on the shifting black horse.

William grabbed hold of the pommel of his sister's saddle. "God damn it, Constance! I told you to stay with Wilkins and Fife!" he grated lowly, eyes piercing into hers.

She shook her head.

"You turn around and follow the orders I gave you, understand?"

"No, William, I'm staying here. With you."

He grabbed her arm and squeezed. His sister cried out in utter anguish before he could get a word in. William's face suddenly softened. "Are you alright?"

"Let go of my arm!" she sobbed. If it were possible to have wrenched it away, she would have.

He opened his arms to her and Constance slid down with his aid. "What did you do?"

"I was looking you because I was afraid something was going to happen to you. Hermes spooked and threw me, and I hurt my arm."

William beckoned for her to follow as he took the reins to her horse. He tied Hermes to a tree with the other horses, then guided his sister down the bank. Constance seated herself on a tree root and wriggled free from her jacket. She rolled up the sleeve of her injured arm and gingerly offered it to her brother. Frowning, William gently cradled her arm in his left palm and examined it.

"Be careful," she whimpered as he felt along the bone. She winced.

"There?"

Biting her lip, she nodded rapidly.

"Mm," was his response. "You broke it all right. Hold on." He stood up. "Captain, will you please come here?" Bordon had seen Constance ride in and immediately scurried down the bank. "Yes, sir?"

"You know how to care for a broken arm, correct?"

The captain nodded, puffing up a little in front of his ladylove. "Yes, sir, I do."

"She's broken her arm in a riding accident. Can you tend her until we can get her to the surgeon?"

Captain Bordon delicately helped her up and steadied her in the short climb up the bank. They went to a quiet spot under one of the trees, and Bordon sat her with care. He disappeared for a moment to dig through his saddlebag for a scrap of cloth. The captain returned to her and made a sling in silence. When finished, he sat back and folded his arms over his knees.

"So, why did you come here?" he asked softly.

Constance frowned. "I was looking for Will because there's something wrong. I can just feel it. He'll need me."

"Well, I'm sorry, sweet. You're not going to be of much use with a broken arm."

"I can still--" she protested.

Her lover smiled. "Dearie, if something happens, I will protect him. You've my word."

That did little to reassure her. Constance rested her chin in her good palm and mumbled something. He inclined toward her, having not heard.

"It's nothing," she snorted.

"Hm." Bordon sat back again.

As if I'm going to repeat that horrible thing I just said! Constance thought. 'You can only protect him until you're dead' is a wonderful thing to tell a lover…. She shifted and closed her eyes, pondering. New hoof beats drummed around them, but they did not divert her attention right away. Bordon instead caught her attention when he sprang to his feet and drew his sword.

"Shit!" he yelped, pulling her to her feet. "Get down below the bank!"

Constance's brow furrowed in confusion. She did not see what the immediate danger was. Bordon had already left her side and was shouting orders before she could question. For once, Constance found it better to back away from the fight. She slipped down the bank and crouched close to it.

"Will!" she hissed, pointing upward. Tavington glanced over at her before coolly climbing up the bank. Constance followed him with her eyes and began to whisper a few prayers.

A great commotion came from up above. There were a few gunshots and the clang of sabres. Constance fumbled for her pistol lest anyone happen upon her hiding place. She loaded it with much effort, but at least had a little confidence in protection. The action continued up on the bank. Part of her wanted to join in the fray, but she knew it would not be wise at this point.

There was a gunshot and a muted cry of pain, and then everything was silent. Something clenched in Constance's stomach. Not Will. Not Will. Not Will, please, I hope that was not Will! She listened a moment to the clamorous silence before she deemed it safe to peek out over the bank.

She gasped. The blonde boy she had encountered when leaving the fort stood poised over her fallen brother, knife in hand. The young man's attention was averted a moment to her stunned face, squinting in recognition. Constance's chest heaved to yell….

William Tavington lunged and impaled the blonde boy on his sabre. The colonel propped himself up on an elbow, watching the boy die. He added another jab for good measure before wobbling to his feet. He checked his side--he was bleeding--and staggered toward the horses before he collapsed again.

Constance did not allow herself to be taken by shock. She scrabbled up the dirt wall to her brother's side. He was struggling to get back up, but could not seem to find his feet.

"Will, I'm here! Brother, I'm here!" she cried, kneeling down beside him.

"Constance, go get the others!"

She lifted him against her right shoulder. "Here, I'll help you get up. Hermes can carry us both. Come on, William, get up."

"Leave me and get the others."

"You know damned well I will not do that, William. You had better just help yourself and help me get you up!"

He decided not to fight her any more. William grabbed her shoulders and pushed himself up with her assistance. Constance put his arm around her shoulder when he was up on his feet and led him over to Hermes. Tavington braced himself against the horse's side as she untied the reins. His sister got into the saddle and helped him up behind her. William climbed up with every bit of strength he possessed.

Once his arms were around her waist, Constance heeled into the black stallion and went galloping for camp.

John Bordon's body lay by the corpse of the old preacher Constance had met at the fort. For the moment, the captain was forgotten, and so was the fact that, perhaps, his lover had hexed him. As they neared camp, Constance realized the captain's corpse must be somewhere still by the creek, and that troubled her. However, had she stalled but a moment more to collect him, it was likely she would have shared his fate.

The Ghost rode to the camp by the stream just as Constance rode away.

Next chapter: Will pays a visit to the surgeon with his sister,

and Fife actually does something…eventually.