Page 71 of Betrayal from Beyond
Kara pulled herself further into the space and hung on as the driver whipped the horses into a faster trot. At least the hay was warm at her back, and she had the shawl she’d taken from the tavern.
She settled in as they left the main street and the road grew bumpy. As the lights of the village were left behind, she hoped she was up to the task ahead of her.
Chapter Twenty
It was along, chilly ride in an uncomfortable position, but Kara gritted her teeth and hung on. She guessed they had traveled several miles before the cart turned off the road and into a rutted lane.
She started to maneuver herself backward and partly out of the triangular space. She did not wish to still be there when Petra reached her destination, or to be spotted by her confederates as they drove in.
Saints alive,she cursed inwardly. A button had caught on the frame of the slatted grid. Kara had to wriggle to get it loose. The cart was slowing when she finally worked free. Scooting backward again, she braced herself and dropped off the cart, rolling onto the cold ground just before the cart entered the square light coming from the opened doors of a tall, timbered barn.
She lay there, not moving as the cart entered the barn. Several outbuildings stood nearby, and off to the left she could see a two-storied brick farmhouse, with a lantern hanging outside the door. Several lights showed in the ground-floor windows. Ducking her head, Kara covered her face with the shawl as Petra came striding out of the barn. “Get that hay out of the back.” Petra clapped her hands. “And get the powder loaded. All of it. All the way to the back of the cart. We’ll load the cases inside, and you can help carry them out when you are done.” She threw open the door and then stopped. “Damn it all! We’ll haveto leave all the dried and tinned goods I ordered.” She cursed again. “We’ll have to send you lot with the wagon back again to pick it all up. I don’t want to listen to those ninnies whining about being hungry again.” She strode off toward the farmhouse, blowing on her hands.
Kara’s heart had sunk at hearing her mentionpowder. After their experiences with Petra and her League of Dissolution in London, she feared she knew what it meant. Climbing to her feet, stepping carefully, she crept to the barn and made her way along the front so she could peer inside.
Her chest tightened. The driver and another man stood in the cart, pitching hay into a pile on the right. Waiting on the left was a stack of small, familiar casks. Gunpowder. She crept away and dropped her head back against the barn.Not again.Why was that woman’s solution to her own misery always to murder someone or blow things up?
Kara had to discover what they meant to do with it. But there were two men out here, and how many more inside? She would need more weapons than the paltry few she had hidden in her garments.
Perhaps she could find some tools in the outbuildings? She edged her way around the corner of the barn, but paused to listen. She caught the low murmur of voices. Someone was approaching from the direction of the house. If they went in to help with the loading and unloading, she would be safe enough. But if they came further…
Her hand encountered a door latch. A man-sized door stood toward the back of the barn. The tack room?
The voices drew nearer. She opened the latch and stepped inside.
Pitch black.
She pressed her ear to the door and heard the voices pass by. On their way to one of the outbuildings? She held her position while her mind raced.
Information. She needed to find what she could about their plans, and then do what she could to delay or stop them. It wouldn’t be easy, working alone. She would do her best.
After only a few moments, the voices came by again, on their way back.
She kept still for several minutes more.Light.There might be something useful here, but she needed to see. Feeling her way around the door, she found a hanging lamp. Matches were one of the things she carried in her altered skirts. It took a moment to get the lamp lit, but she managed it, and turned the flame low.
It was indeed the tack room. Surely she could find something useful. She pocketed a hoof pick. Took up a coil of rope and slung it crossways over her shoulder. Tucked several horseshoes into her belt, widely separated so that they wouldn’t clang together. At the very least, she could fling them at an adversary.
She drifted past another shelf, then paused before bringing the lamp back. Reaching up, she pulled down a large glass bottle.
Dr. Acker’s Spavin Cure
Cures spavins, ring bones, andsplints
A spavin was a swelling or bony enlargement in a horse’s hock joint. As far as she knew, there was no cure for it. Her stable manager scoffed at such products as nothing more than quackery, of the same sort that desperate people bought off predatory salesmen.
Kara knew that most of those quack products were laced with opium. And this…this would contain a dose fit for a horse.
Well, now.
Tucking the bottle beneath her arm, she shoved the shawl into a drawer, blew out the lantern, and slipped out the door. She moved to the back of the barn and listened carefully. She could hear the two men still working inside, but nothing else moved or made a sound. Moving quickly, she struck out for the back of the house.
*
Kara was notin the office where the tavern keeper had left her.
“She’s not in any of the bedrooms, either,” the woman reported.
“She wouldn’t be, would she?” asked Gyda. “I saw her starting down those stairs at the far end of the taproom. She was the one who spotted that giant arse coming in. If she hadn’t given me the signal, he might have caught us by surprise.”
