A Hint of Rapture by Miriam Minger Read Free Book Online Page A

with glittering stars, and wondered what these Highlanders
might have in store for them. Revenge for Culloden, perhaps?
    A heavy silence hung over the clearing after the last
of the weapons was thrown onto the pile.
    "All right, lads, ye can stand up now," the
same voice commanded. "Slowly does it. Keep yer hands out where we can see
them."
    Garrett sat up and twisted around, attempting to take a
more complete count of the enemy. As far as he could tell, there were five
altogether, including the four he had seen earlier and one other, unless there
were more Highlanders lurking in the woods . . .
    A sudden movement a short distance from the clearing
caught his attention. His eyes widened in amazement at the slight figure
standing well back in the shadows, dressed from head to toe in black, the
firelight glinting off two leveled pistols. The scene fit Colonel Wolfe's
description exactly. Black Jack!
    The irony of the situation hit Garrett hard. He had
been sent out expressly to capture this elusive outlaw, and now he and his
soldiers had become the man's captives.
    He glanced at the line of wagons winding back along the
wide path they had taken from Wade's Road, with the horses tethered nearby. If
what he had heard about Black Jack was true, these outlaws were more interested
in the supply wagons than in revenge. If no one provoked them, that was. They
had shot men before.
    "On yer feet, captain," the nearest
Highlander growled, aiming his pistol threateningly at Garrett's chest.
    Garrett stood up, catching out of the corner of his eye
the covert movement of the burly sergeant standing to his right. He whirled,
but it was too late to stop him.
    Pulling a knife from his boot, the sergeant flung it at
the Highlander, who attempted to dodge the lethal missile. He wasn't quick
enough. The blade sank into his upper arm, and he cursed loudly. At the same
time a shot rang out in the clearing, and the sergeant sank heavily to the
ground.
    "I'm hit, captain!" the sergeant gasped as if
he could not quite believe it. An ugly red stain widened around the singed hole
just below his left shoulder, blood streaming through his splayed fingers.
    Stunned, Garrett looked from the black-clad figure in
the shadows who was holding a smoking pistol, to the soldier sprawled at his
feet. He took a step toward the wounded man.
    "Stop where ye are," the nearby Highlander
grated. His pistol was still trained on Garrett though blood seeped from inside
his sleeve and streaked his trembling hand. Without a sound, he pulled the
knife from his flesh and hurled it to the ground.
    Garrett's eyes narrowed angrily. "My sergeant
needs help. Shoot me if you will, but I'm not going to stand here while he
bleeds to death."
    For a moment the Highlander simply stared at him as if
defying him to make another move. Then he seemed to waver. He glanced at Black
Jack in the shadows, who nodded curtly, and back to Garrett. "Go on with
ye then," he muttered, rubbing his arm.
    Garrett dropped to his knees beside the wounded man. He
whipped his cravat from around his neck and used it to staunch the bleeding.
"That was a foolhardy thing to do, sergeant," he said sternly, though
he could not fault the man for trying.
    "I'd do it again, Captain Marshall," the
sergeant grunted, his face ashen. "The wily bastards!"
    Garrett was silent. He, too, had a knife in his boot,
as did many of the soldiers. Perhaps if their efforts were somehow coordinated,
there still might be a chance—
    The injured Highlander's voice boomed across the
clearing, interrupting his thoughts. "While yer captain plays nursemaid,
the rest of ye strip off yer boots and yer clothes and throw everything in one
pile. Ye winna conceal any more weapons if we can help it. Then lie facedown on
the ground. Move!"
    Garrett swore softly. So much for that plan.
    After a few minutes he lifted the soiled from the
wound, pleased to see that the bleeding had stopped. Yet the man would need
medical attention to remove the bullet,