Page 2 of A Lovely White Christmastide
The captain’s golden-brown eyebrows flattened. He knew the man did not trust him, even thought him a fool after he’d convinced him to sing at last evening’s ball. But Daniel had completed more missions and led more men through battle without injury than any other lieutenant in the dragoon.
“You have my word.”
Captain Bingham finally nodded. Spinning his sorrel gelding around, he rushed off into the fray.
Daniel’s men fell into formation behind him as they rushed the right flank. Swords clanged as a few mounted Frenchmen met them. It didn’t take long to beat them back. His men practically herded the entire right side of the French forces into the open meadow like a flock of sheep, then held their position so no one could go for reinforcements. The battle raged in front of them, but no one moved.
It felt like an eternity as they waited, barely engaging the opposing forces, but orders were orders and Daniel intended to follow them.
A familiar sorrel horse broke free from the skirmish, its rider slumped over. Captain Bingham!
The pursuing Frenchman on his ebony mount raised his carbine. Daniel made a rash decision.
“Carter, hold the line.”
His next in command gave a sharp nod and Daniel urged his own bay gelding into a run. Following the fleeing horse as it bolted toward the trees, he prayed Captain Bingham would not fall or get shot before he reached him.
Drawing his pistol, Daniel took a shot at nearly the same moment the other rider fired. The black horse skittered to the side and both shots puffed up dirt near their intended targets.
He cursed, wishing his shot would have been more effective, but at least the Frenchman had not been more accurate. The man reached for his pistol, but the horse he rode suddenly tumbled forward, throwing the man to the ground. Daniel thanked God for the inconsistency in the terrain that eliminated his opponent without the need for him to injure man or beast further.
Urging his horse faster, Daniel closed the distance between him and Captain Bingham’s horse. The animal veered away toward the French troops at his approach.
“Whoa there, Zeus, whoa!” Daniel called to the animal.
His own mount nickered and the frightened gelding reversed course and headed toward them. When the animal reached Daniel’s side, he bent over the saddle to catch his reins but they were hard to grasp at such a harried pace. Finally his fingers wrapped around the worn leather straps, and he led the animal away from the fight. At the tree line he pulled them to a stop.
“What are you doing?” Captain Bingham growled through pinched lips; one arm cradled against his side.
“Saving your life, sir. I’d think that would be pretty obvious.”
“I told you to hold the line.”
“And it is held. See for yourself.”
The captain turned his head and grunted. “How does a dolt such as you always manage to run such clean campaigns?”
“Great strategy, I suppose.”
“Or dumb luck. I was sure the battle would push into your end and you’d have your hands so full you’d not have time to play kitten hero.”
The corner of Daniel’s mouth tipped up. “Are you calling yourself a kitten?”
Captain Bingham snorted. “I am as useless as one with my right arm slashed as it is.”
Daniel finally focused on the blood dripping down the captain’s sleeve. “That does not look good.”
“You don’t say.” Captain Bingham rolled his eyes.
Dismounting from his horse, Daniel pulled off one of the leather straps used to secure his pack. “Can you dismount?”
“During battle? You are ridiculous, Kaye. I need to get back out there.”
“Without a saber or your dominant arm? I think not. We need to stop that blood flow or you will bleed out before you could make it back to the fight.”
“It’s not—” Captain Bingham finally got a good look at his arm and blanched.
Daniel rushed to catch the man as he lost consciousness. Thankfully, the captain’s smaller frame made him easy to guide to a prone position on the grassy field. “Well, that is one way to dismount.”
