If the men who’d dressed as Indians and killed the soldiers on the pay wagon were trappers, then they knew the countryside even better than Angus did. Some of them had lived there most of their lives. They would know the trails that Angus would use to get to the McNalty cabin. And if they knew he was going there, that meant they knew that Aldredge wasn’t dead. It was Angus’s guess that when they’d all sat there, watching Matt sew his head back together, they’d been watched. Had it been soldiers in the woods around them, Angus would have heard them, but trappers? No. They were as good in the forests as Angus was.

By the time Angus reached the cave, he wondered if they’d ever get out alive. There was water trickling down the back of the cave wall, but they had no food and little ammunition, and, worse, they had a wounded man. How would they escape from men who could walk across dry leaves and not make a sound? How would they elude men whose clothes matched the forest? Many times, Angus had stood ten feet from Wellman’s soldiers and they’d not seen him, so he knew what true frontiersmen could do.

When Angus reached the cave, he put Naps down gently, but the boy still groaned in pain. The right half of his body was covered in blood from the two wounds.

“I have to go get the others,” Angus said, wondering if he’d ever again see the young man alive. He well remembered that when he’d used the cave there was a stack of dry firewood in the corner. It was an unwritten rule of woodsmen that they replace what they’d used. At least they could have a fire.

“Damnation!” Angus muttered as he started down the hill. That no one shot at him let him know exactly what was going on. The men shooting at them knew one of them was wounded and they knew where Angus was taking him. But the cave was their only choice at the moment. With Welsch being wounded and with Connor, both of them hardly being able stay on a horse, it would be impossible to get them all out alive. No, what Angus had to do was get them all into the cave, then he’d have to leave them under Mac’s protection while he, Angus, went for help.

T.C., Matt, and Mac were where he’d left them, but the younger men were out of ammunition.

“They shoot like they have a keg of powder,” Mac grumbled.

“We need to get the men up that hill. There’s a cave up there, and I put Welsch in it.”

“How bad is he?”

“I don’t know, but if I were to guess, I’d say he’s losing too much blood to make it.”

Mac nodded toward T.C. and Matt. “Put those two on him. Sewing and plants. They’re good at those.”

Nodding in agreement, Angus turned toward the hill, Mac behind him. When he silently passed the young men, he gave the distinctive whistle of the red cardinal, and T.C. told Matt they had to go.

It took nearly an hour to get to the cave because they had to wait behind trees when the gunfire got too heavy. They watched Angus, waiting for him to tell them what to do. He’d stand and fire while Connor ran, then he’d reload and let Aldredge go. Mac was always last and always reluctant to leave Angus holding the gunmen off.

When they finally reached the cave, Matt immediately went to Naps. He used the knife he wore at his waist to cut away Naps’s clothes so he could look at the wounds. After he’d examined him, he went to the others standing in the center of the cave.

“The bullets have to be removed,” Matt said. “They’re lead, and if they stay in there very long they’ll poison him. Even as it is, I’m not sure…” He trailed off, glancing back at Naps, who was lying on the cold floor and trying to breathe through the pain.

“Then do it,” Angus said. “Get the bullets out and wrap him up as best you can. I’m going to try to find the horses and get us out of here.”

“Me?” Matt began, but one look from Angus stopped him. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I’ll do what I can.”

Angus looked at T.C., who was studying something that was growing from the wall of the cave. “Help him. Do whatever needs to be done.”

Angus moved close to the mouth of the cave, where he could see out but not be seen; Mac was right beside him.

“You know what’s going on, don’t you, lad?”

“I think Austin’s hired some trappers and I think they mean to kill us.”

“All over a girl as worthless as Betsy Wellman.”

“There are women you fight for and women who don’t deserve it,” Angus said under his breath, but Mac heard him.

“Sounds like you wish you’d done more fighting.”

“There are some things that a man can’t fight.” Angus moved away from the wall and went to where Matt was hovering over Naps. His eyes asked whether the boy was going to be all right, but Matt shrugged that he didn’t know.

“I’m going down,” Angus said. He looked at the four men and hated leaving them. Mac knew how to take care of himself, but the others were young and inexperienced. “My horse will come when I call and I’ll ride for the fort. It’s not that far away, and I’ll bring help back.”

T.C. and Matt nodded at this, and Naps gave a faint smile, as though he now knew that he’d be saved, but Mac looked at Angus with serious eyes. Mac was going to be left alone with three neophytes, little ammunition, and heaven only knew how many men surrounding them.

“It’s the only way,” Angus said. “None of you would make it through them.”

“Aye, lad, I know,” Mac said softly, and his eyes said that he knew that when Angus returned-if he did-they wouldn’t be alive.

“I have to go now,” Angus said. “I can’t wait until dark.”

“I know,” Mac said. “Go on, then. Tell the colonel hello for us. And if you see Austin you might hit him for me.”

Angus put his hand on Mac’s shoulder. “If anything happens to you or the lads, I’ll kill him.”

“Fair enough,” Mac said, then, after one more glance at the three young men, Angus slipped out of the cave and into the sunlight.

He stayed behind trees and rocks and moved as silently as he could, but he still felt that he was being watched. Whoever was shooting at them had allowed them to get into the cave, but he doubted if they were going to let Angus get to his horse and ride to the fort.

It was slow progress going down the hill. Angus would take two steps then wait. It’s what he’d learned how to do when he was a boy, moving about the heather on his belly, looking for any sign of the rustlers.

When he got within fifty feet of where they’d camped the night before, he gave the low whistle that he’d trained his horse to come to, but the animal didn’t show up. He wasn’t sure but he thought he heard a laugh in the distance. If the men were trappers and lived their lives alone in the woods, then they knew a bird whistle from a man’s.

As Angus walked along the edge of the riverbank, he tried to calculate how long it would take him to run the distance to the fort. Three days, he thought, but if he could get a horse from one of the trappers…

Slowly, stealthily, he made his way toward where the gunmen were hiding. He thought he was nearly there when he heard the unmistakable whiz of an arrow. Ducking, he swerved and missed the arrow, but his foot slipped on the wet grass and he lost his balance. He grabbed at a tree but couldn’t reach it. In the next second he felt himself falling down the cliff and heading for the river. As he tried to curl himself into a ball, his hands covering his head in protection, he knew he was going to die because he was sure he heard bagpipes.

Angus hit the water hard, but he came up to the surface quickly, and for a moment the current carried him. As he passed a tall rock, he grabbed it and held on. With water in his face, he looked at the bank, trying to see if a gunman was standing there. Or a man with a bow. Instead, he thought he saw Shamus-and he was smiling at him in delight.

Angus shook his head to clear it, then looked back at the bank, but who or what he’d seen was gone. There were just trees and grasses.