On the eastern side of Hagerstown Road, Beth fidgeted, looking first along the path she’d made out of the woods, then south on the road. The mare sensed Beth’s nervousness and snorted. Little ripples jerked the skin along the horse’s neck. The mare lifted one foot, then another, eager to be moving again.
Beth saw a rider make the turn off the canal road and head toward her. He rode the distinctive red of a Hawley Morgan. She recognized the hat of the younger of the two followers she and Ethan had watched through the telescope just minutes ago. Beth’s heart accelerated and she backed her horse into the scrub along the road.
“Please, Ethan, hurry,” she whispered to herself.
The rider kicked his horse into a trot. In a minute he would come upon her. What to do? Ride into the woods or back to Ethan?
She heard a shot. Then another. Dear God, no. Ethan.
The rider picked up his pace. Beth frantically backed her horse even further into the scrub along the road, but knew he would see her soon.
Another shot boomed out of the woods. And another. Every nerve in her body spasmed.
Something had definitely gone wrong.