Beyond a Doubt

chapter Two




Lucille Lombard walked the well-trodden path, her thick tongue stuck to the roof of her dry mouth. She had emptied her water container hours before. Lucille searched for water but to no avail.

Two weeks of long, dark nights spent shivering in the cold, listening to crickets chirp and animals scurry, and feeling her heart race with fear at the thought of highwaymen hiding in the bushes. Now her feet burned and her back ached. Would the torment never be over?

Anger over her situation filled her mind. She muttered loudly under her breath, which took the sound of the river longer to penetrate. When the roar of running water pervaded her mind, Lucille lifted her skirts and took off at a run. It was a struggle to remain upright as she stumbled over raised roots, was flicked by wayward branches, and attempted to avoid pointy rocks.

“Stupid tree,” muttered Lucille as a limb snapped back, popping her in the face.

Once past the trees, Lucille faced a wide river. The water moved quickly, rushing over rocks. With caution, she knelt and filled her container. Once the cloth holder was full, she shaped her hand like a cup and dipped into the water several times until she drank her fill.

She pulled a rag from her bag, wet it, and rubbed her neck vigorously, then lifted her head to look at the land on the opposite shore. A flash of color caught her eye. Squinting against the light, Lucille saw something float by. Further inspection caused her to gasp.

Lucille didn’t think, heading out into the rushing water. Foot braced, she grasped what she knew was a body. Her hand filled with hair and when she tugged, a man’s face came into view. She tried to lift him and his eyelids fluttered. He was alive! She grabbed again, searching for a better hold.

But no matter where she reached, she came up empty-handed. The man’s flesh was slick and his clothing was hard to spot. Frustration mounting, Lucille stumbled alongside the floating body, reaching and clasping.

What was she going to do? She couldn’t leave him. With one final attempt, Lucille shot her hand forward. Rewarded with the feel of a heavy fabric, Lucille held tightly and heaved.

With teeth gritted, she pulled. Muscles straining with effort, Lucille tugged the man to the riverbank.

They reached the edge and Lucille collapsed, struggling to regain her breath. Had the man died while she’d fought to bring him ashore? Or had he survived?

With strength returning, she leaned over him. His skin was ashen, his lips blue. She placed her hand upon his bare chest. His chest, covered in chill bumps, rose and fell with unsteady breath.

Lucille fell back, a smile upon her lips. The rescue was a success.

****

The sun warmed Bryce’s chilled skin. His eyelids fluttered open. Where was he? A cool breeze blew, causing him to shiver. Suddenly, memories assailed him. He’d been seeking a bath when his tunic floated away. Retrieving the article had led to his situation.

Certain death had awaited. Then someone had been there. Instead of helping him, they had held him down, keeping him from catching his breath.

“Oh, you are awake.”

The voice took him off guard. Bryce sat up, coughing. Water spewed from his mouth and dribbled down his chin. Once the fit passed, Bryce studied the person who’d spoken.

A young woman lay beside him. Water clung to her thin frame and she trembled. Her oval face was highlighted by brown eyes which angled up at the corners. High cheekbones bracketed her button nose.

“If you are done staring, do you mind me asking why you were drowning yourself?”

“Drowning meself?” he muttered in confusion as he noted her distinct French accent.

“There are easier ways to go.”

“I wasn’t drowning meself! From my perspective, ye were drowning me!”

“What?” Her eyebrow rose.

“That’s right. I woke up and struggled to reach the bank and ye pushed my head under.”

“Huh? I did no such thing. I was drinking and noticed you floating away like yesterday’s garbage. I saved you!”

Bryce parted his lips to argue further but shut them just as quickly. Had the water addled his mind and warped his manners? Looking more closely at the petite lass, he thought there was no way she could have held him under water.

“Aye, ye are right. Thank ye for yer assistance.” He thrust his hand forward. “My name is Bryce Cameron and I’m in yer debt.”

She ignored his hand as a questioning look covered her face. Since she didn’t speak, Bryce stood on his wobbly legs and studied the area. Floating down the river had caused him to lose track of his horse and his belongings.

“This canna be happenin’.” With a direct look at the young lady, he said, “Did ye see a horse?”

The lass stood to her feet and mimicked his stance. Short in stature, next to him she appeared as if a small child. Her hands were placed on her slim hips, her eyebrows rose with irritation. When she spoke, her voice carried an even pitch. “Neigh, I have not seen a horse.”

He drew a ragged breath, raking his hand through wet hair. “I thank ye.” Away he peered, studying again. “I’m sure my horse rested just along the riverbank. But I’ll find her. Good day to ye.”

Bryce had taken a few steps along the rocky embankment when her shrill voice rang out. “You’re leaving me? You managed to soak me clean through and now you are leaving me to freeze?”

Bryce spun around; his feet wet and soggy, he sloshed back to the waiting lass. “Miss, please keep yer voice down.”

Her slippered foot rose and stomped the ground. She arched her eyebrow with pain as a rock, no doubt, pierced her tender skin. “I will not be quiet. I’m cold, I’m wet, and I’m hungry. Now what are you going to do about it?”

Bryce glanced around. The lass appeared without companions. The code of a Scottish gentleman would not allow him to leave the lass in distress.

“Lass, I will help ye. Come along.”

Not waiting for an answer, he turned and retraced his steps in search of his horse.