THE JOURNEYER by J.P. Bowie

Author:J.P. Bowie [Bowie, J.P.]
Language: nld
Format: epub
Tags: erotic MM, Romance MM
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

The following evening, Barron answered a knock on the door of his officer’s

quarters. Davenport stood there, a sheaf of papers in his hand. Without waiting to be invited, he strode into Barron’s room.

“Got any gin, Bertie?” he asked.

Barron flicked him a look of disapproval, then nodded. “What do you want,

John?” He crossed to a small cabinet and withdrew a bottle and two glasses.

J.P. Bowie

174

“I have here the reports of the latest Choctaw raids on nearby settlements,”

Davenport replied, accepting the proffered glass. “One of them sounds a bit

strange.”

“Really? How so?”

“Says here that the owner of the land, one Master Robert Ferguson was the

only victim. The women and children were set free.”

“The Choctaws have been known to spare women and children before,”

Barron observed. “Even men, sometimes. As in the case of McBride and the

two privates.”

“True, but here’s the strange part. The Fergusons had a slave—a white man,

young, Scottish, big fella. The Choctaws took him with them after they had

burned the place to the ground.”

“A hostage perhaps?”

“No…listen to this.” Davenport read from the report. “‘The daughter,

Belinda Ferguson, looking back at her burning home and in deep distress, did witness their indentured slave, a fellow Scot named Jamie MacDonald, leave

with the savages of his own free will.’” He looked up at Barron, a speculative glint in his stare. “I think I know this Jamie MacDonald, Bertie. I had a run in with him nigh a year ago. Said he was the captain of some ship or other. Had a bunch of rogues and cutthroats with him. Damned insolent fella—far too

arrogant for his station.”

Barron instinctively felt there was more to the story than Davenport was

about to impart, but he listened in silence as Davenport went on.

“If it is he, and if he is in cahoots with the savages, I shall have great pleasure in repaying him for the slight I suffered at his hands—after I deal with the Choctaws.”

“Slight? What did he do?”

“Never mind that now,” Davenport said sulkily, draining his glass. “Enough

that I shall call him out for it, when I track him down.”

More likely he’ll be shot in the back, Barron thought. Aloud he said, “Call

him out? Track him down? You are surely taking a lot for granted, eh John? We still have to find the blessed Choctaws, never mind a Scotsman who may or

may not be with them. Last time I was up against the blighters, it was like a game of hide-and-seek—only a deadly game…” He fell silent, remembering.

“Well, this time I’ll be ready for the heathen devils!” Davenport exclaimed.

“There’ll be no surprise ambush this time. I have a couple of woodsmen who

will scout ahead and keep us apprised of the enemy’s whereabouts.”

J.P. Bowie

175

“Hopefully, your scouts are as skilled as you think they are…” Barron’s tone was dry. “The Choctaws are famed for their knowledge of the forests. That’s

what makes ’em such dangerous foes. This will be no easy task, John. We’d better have an early night. We leave with the regiment at first light.”

“Quite right.” Davenport stood, and picked up the report.

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