“Stand!” Evan bellowed, and shot the rifle above the heads of the driver and footman. “Stand or be killed!”

I saw a flash of the driver’s face—eyes and mouth wide—then he wrenched upon the reins. The four horses, already startled by the shot, plunged and reared in the traps as they were hauled to a stop, haunches straining. The coach behind them rocked upon its springs, swinging and spraying dirt as it came to a cumbersome halt.

Evan slung the spent rifle back over his shoulder and pulled out his pistol. “Hands where we can see them,” he yelled to the driver and footman, the pistol aimed at them. They raised their hands, their fear shifting into disbelief at seeing me beyond him.

“It’s a woman,” the driver said.

I urged Bruno forward, still pointing my gun at them. “It is, and I’ll take your head off if you move.” I was rather pleased with the steel in my voice.

Mr. Kent broke cover just as the door of the carriage swung open and Deele poked his head and hand out, a pistol aimed at Evan.

“Drop it, or I will shoot!” Kent ordered, coming up from behind him.

Deele looked over his shoulder and, upon seeing Kent’s pistol pointed squarely at his head, lowered the gun.

“I said drop it,” Kent ordered again.

“Damn you!” Deele tossed the gun to the ground. “Do you know who I am?”

“Indeed I do, brother,” Evan said. He dismounted as Deele jerked around to face him again.

“Good God!” Deele sounded genuinely flabbergasted. “Is that you, Evan?”

“Go see to the driver and footman,” Evan said to Kent. As the Runner passed him, Evan handed back the Baker rifle.

That was my cue. As soon as Kent took over guarding the two men at the front, I slid off Bruno, my cold feet jarring upon the hard road, ready for my part.

“What are you doing here?” Deele said. “Why are you pointing a gun at me?”

“I am saving our sister,” Evan said.

“Saving her? What do you mean? I am saving her.”

Gun in hand, I skirted the blowing horses and made my way around to the other side of the carriage. It was a large traveling coach, with windows set into the door as well as either side of the cabin. Carefully, I peered into the bodkin window, gun at the ready.

On the other side of the carriage, I heard Evan say, “How can you think consigning our sister to a madhouse is saving her in any way?”

Hester sat propped next to the window I looked through, either asleep or, more likely, unconscious, for no one could have slept through that tumultuous halt. Either she had been drugged or the ordeal of being snatched by her brother had been too much. Extracting her from the coach would be more difficult than anticipated.