“I think she expected nothing else,” Chisholm said. “She’s a real soldier’s wife, that one.”
Both men swooped for cover at the flat report of the musket. MacKim lay prone, trying to peer all around him. The ball had passed within a foot of his head, clipping off half a dozen leaves before thudding into the bole of a tree some ten feet away. MacKim could see the blue-grey ball protruding from the wood.
“That shot came from behind us,” Chisholm said. “The savages are between us and the camp.”
MacKim heard the controlled fear in Chisholm’s voice. “Keep still.” He lay flat with his heart pounding and every sound of the forest magnified. He could hear the roaring of the river nearby, the hiss of rain on the ground and the rustle of the leaves. He fancied he could even hear the patter of inse
