Craig swallowed. "M-Mary and Elise came and s-saddled Brady's mare. I didn't know they were not supposed t-to take her."
"Nay?" He gave the boy a hard shake. "How long ago did she leave?"
Craig hesitated, and Marcus said, "It is nearly three now. How long?"
"This morning. Mayhap eight."
"You helped them saddle the mare?" Marcus snapped.
"No! I heard them saddle the horse." He hesitated.
Marcus's lips tightened. "Sleeping?"
Craig dropped his gaze.
"What did they say?" Marcus demanded.
"Elise was g-going to Michael's."
Marcus shoved Craig from him. "Saddle Alexis."
"That devil?" Harris blurted.
"Alexis," Marcus repeated. "I will take even the devil's help."
Ten minutes later, Marcus galloped out of the stables. He left the path as soon as he found a reasonable place to drive the stallion down the steep hills, cutting off more than half the time Elise would have taken to reach Michael's. The resolve he had made to whip her to within an inch of her life died when he reached the cottage to discover she hadn't been there.
"I'll come with ye to find her," Michael said. He turned and started toward the corner containing his bed.
Marcus glanced at Michael's leg. The splint was gone. "There's no time to saddle your horse."
"There is," the older man said, his voice firm. "It will take but three minutes."
Marcus started to argue, but Michael strode the last two paces to his bed, saying, "We can waste time arguing if you like, but I'm going." He snatched up the coat lying on the chest at the foot of the bed and turned to Marcus. "Go on ahead. I can follow. Dalton will give Alexis a run for his money." He gave Marcus a hard look. "If there is trouble, you'll be needing all the help you can get." He strode past Marcus and out the door.
Cursing, Marcus followed. Three minutes later, they rode.
Marcus yanked Alexis up short and leapt to the ground when he at last sighted Elise's tracks. "They went down here." He squatted, examining where the mare had lost her footing on the mountainside.
"Aye." Michael dismounted.
"The mare threw Elise." Marcus motioned at the wide swath of crushed ground dented from the mare's landing.
He rose, moving slowly forward, ignoring the tracks he knew had to be Campbells as his gaze scanned the ground. He squatted again and carefully ran a finger over a smattering of dried blood on a rock. Marcus looked onto the turf churned up where riders had pulled up hard and fast alongside the place Elise had fallen. He traced the tracks with his fingers, noting the change in weight when they had dismounted.
"If she were dead, they would have left her," Michael said.
"Or they could have kept the body as a bargaining tool. Where is the saddle? It fell off." Marcus scanned the surroundings but found no sign of the saddle.
"They probably threw it down the mountainside or took it," Michael said.
Marcus stood. Had he not taken the shortcut, he would have noticed the tracks forty minutes ago. "Fetch Johnson from Brahan Seer. He's our finest tracker. I'll follow the tracks."
Marcus grasped his horse's pommel, then froze at the sound of a low moan. "Did you hear," he began, but Michael was already starting down the hill at a near run.
"Michael," Marcus shouted. The fool would break his leg again, or worse.
Marcus raced after the old man and reached him just as a body came into sight beyond the nearest fir tree. Marcus's heart thudded in the instant before his mind registered that it wasn't Elise but a man. Allister, he realized. The young man's father had recently died and Allister had taken over the land his father had tilled.
Marcus dropped to one knee beside him. Allister stared up, eyes dark with pain.
"What happened, lad?" Marcus asked.
He licked his lips, then rasped, "Campbells."
Fear knifed through Marcus. "Elise?" he asked.
"Fell from her horse," Allister managed.
"There was no body, MacGregor," Michael reminded him. "Allister is alive, so is she."
Marcus nodded and forced calm as he made a quick assessment of Allister's injuries. His arm had been gashed and a bruise had begun to form on his forehead, but no blood gushed from any part of his body.
"Can you move?" Marcus asked.
"My leg… broken," he said.
Marcus nodded. "Hurts like the devil, I wager."
Allister winced with what looked like laughter at the obvious understatement.
"Can you manage until help arrives?" he asked.
A steely glint lit the young man's eyes. "Leave me a pistol and any Campbell that comes near will die."
"That's the spirit," Marcus said.
"I got one."
"What?"
"My dirk," the boy said.
"You did well." Marcus rose. "Michael will leave you his weapon. If I overtake the bastards, I plan to use my pistol."
Marcus hurried back up the hill with Michael close behind.
Marcus mounted his horse. "You'll reach Brahan Seer in ten minutes. I doubt any Campbells stayed behind, but leave the boy your knife as well." Michael nodded. Marcus gave the stallion a kick, and the beast lunged forward.
"MacGregor!" Michael shouted.