![]() ![]() The ties on the shoes were of lace, the shoes themselves of finest leather, the stockings silk. Nearer to the frozen stream, Joseph held up a pair of battered shoes and torn stockings.Ĭonnor reached out, touched them. There was nothing he could do for her or the lad now. Connor gave her cold, lifeless hand a squeeze, then turned away. The poor lass lying here on the cold ground was far plainer with bright red hair. A small locket painting, it had revealed a beautiful young girl with hair the color of honey and bright blue eyes, her cheeks pink, a playful smile on her rosy lips. Wentworth had showed him a likeness of her. And now two of the three who’d been taken were lost.Ĭonnor crossed himself and whispered a prayer for them, then looked more closely at the lass’s face, her features hard to see in the gloaming. ![]() But Haviland, who didn’t know his head from his arse, hadn’t listened. War parties often killed captives if pressed. He’d warned that arrogant bastard Haviland that sending redcoats had been a mistake. Major Connor MacKinnon gently turned the bodies over-one of the lasses and the lad, both tomahawked, both scalped. Attached to the scalp was a long, red braid. ![]() But she would not lie with him.Īt the edge of the firelight, an Indian sat stitching a fresh scalp to a small wooden hoop. Her captor draped an animal fur around her shoulders and motioned toward a blanket he’d placed on the ground near the fire, indicating that she should lie down on the ground beside him. ![]()
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