“Weakening.” Aaron Dawes’s face was grave. “I have to do it soon.”
Everyone looked to Thorne, who’d been ordered by Bram to stop them. The grim, stalwart officer who had once kept vigil at a wounded Bram’s bedside, pistol cocked, ready to fire at the first gleam of a bone saw. Would he fight them now? Between Dawes and Payne, she supposed they had the corporal outnumbered. But even if they had a dozen men, the smart odds would still seem to favor Thorne.
“Corporal Thorne,” she said, “I know you are loyal to your lord. But angry as he is right now, if he returns to find this boy dead, he’ll be devastated. We must allow Mr. Dawes to operate.”
She hadn’t stopped loving Bram when he rode away from her. No matter what threats or ultimatums he’d given, she was looking out for Finn’s well-being and his.
“Do you understand?” she asked. “We have to save Finn’s life, or Bram will always feel responsible. We all care about him. And we don’t want him to live under that burden of guilt.”
Recognition gleamed sharp in the corporal’s eyes. And Susanna found herself wondering just what burdens of guilt this quiet, ruthless man shouldered.
Thorne nodded. “Do it, then.”
Twenty-seven
Bram spent the three-hour ride to Brighton steaming with righteous anger, feeling like a misunderstood, maligned hero.
He spent the three-hour ride back to Spindle Cove swamped with fierce regret, feeling like a perfect jackass.
Daniels wasn’t helping.
“Let me understand this,” his friend said, when they stopped to change horses halfway. “Now that I’m more than half awake.”
Daniels paced the lit area in front of the coaching house stables, pushing a hand through his wild black hair. “A boy got his foot blown apart in a cannon explosion. You had a capable blacksmith and an experienced apothecary all prepared to amputate. But you told them all to hold off for eight or nine hours. So you could ride breakneck to the Brighton Barracks . . .” He motioned to the right. “Haul me out of a warm bed, and drag me all the way back . . .” He waved the same hand to the left. “To do what, exactly? Pronounce the boy dead?”
“No. You’re going to save his leg. The way you saved mine.”
“Bram.” The surgeon’s flint-gray eyes were unforgiving. “A lone bullet passed through your knee in a straight, clean trajectory. To be sure, it tore your ligaments up—but at least it left edges that could be sewn together. Heavy artillery wounds are like shark attacks. All that’s left is chum. You’ve seen battle. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”
Bram scrubbed a hand over his face, absorbing the censure. “Just shut up and ride.”
Joshua Daniels and Susanna Finch were two of the most intelligent people Bram had ever known. If the two of them agreed on something, that pretty well guaranteed Bram was wrong. Damn it all. If he hadn’t torn off in such a hurry, he likely would have come around to reason, eventually. But he’d gone a little mad at the idea of just standing by helpless, allowing Finn to be permanently lamed. Susanna was right; after all his own struggles to recover his strength, it had hit too close to home.
But Susanna was stubborn, he told himself. Headstrong and brave. She’d never listened to him when it didn’t suit her, so why should she start now? No matter what dire proclamations he’d made, surely she wouldn’t have heeded them. Not if Finn’s life hung in the balance. But then again, he’d told Thorne to use any means necessary to prevent an amputation. And Thorne had some formidable, ruthless means at his disposal.
Jesus Christ, what had he done?
Day was breaking as they rode over the crest and caught their first glimpse of Spindle Cove. His heart lurched at the sight. The charming little village, nestled snug in its valley. The ancient castle ruins, standing sentinel on the bluffs. The cove, calm and blue, studded with small fishing crafts. Warm, buttery sunlight melting over the ridge.
Susanna was right. He was lord of this quiet little nook of England, and there was pride in that. Spindle Cove had a claim on his honor and his heart. And for the first time in his life, Bram knew he had a true home. He could only hope she’d see fit to welcome him back.
They reached the smithy in a matter of minutes. He launched himself from the saddle the moment his gelding slowed to a walk. While the horses made good use of a nearby trough of rainwater, Bram led Daniels into the small, timber-framed building. They found the forge empty of all souls, save one. Finn Bright lay stretched on a long table in the center of the room, draped with linen from the neck down. Eyes closed.