South of Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 2) by Nanette Kinslow Page B

“We need guns and horses.”
           He turned to Mark and shouted, “Let’s get back up to the house. We need to find whoever did this.”
          Mark responded, but Roland did not.
          “Roland! We’re headed back up to the house.” Mark looked up and listened.
         “Roland?” Tim yelled.
          The two stumbled down the stairs toward the river and found nothing but a long muddy slur into the water and several footprints.
          “Roland!” Tim yelled again. They ran along the banks for several minutes calling the man’s name, Timothy cursing loudly under his breath.
          “I don’t think he fell in, Pa,” Mark panted. “There are two sets of prints here. I think they both went into the water.”
          “We need the horses.” Tim ran up the path back to Stavewood with Mark close behind him.
     
     
          “I don’t know what happened,” Timothy tried to explain hurriedly, as he loaded his rifle.
          “Mark’s getting the horses and I’ve sent one of the hands out for Ben. Rebecca, I need you to stay here.”
          “I’m coming with you,” Emma announced. She stood on the stairs in a plain dress with her hair pulled back.
          “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Emma.” He kissed Rebecca’s cheek and headed for the door.
          Emma followed him into the yard. “Mark, I’m riding with you.” She leapt up behind the boy lightly.
          Mark looked at his father, puzzled.
          “I can ride and I can yell. You’ll have to do any shooting however.”
          The frantic trio rode up the mill to begin their search, Rebecca wringing her hands on the porch.
          Timothy urged his huge black Arabian across the water aggressively, the stallion swimming briefly before finding footing on the opposite bank.
          Mark and Emma searched the shore, calling Roland and checking every dark shape of driftwood and tangle that had lodged on its way down the waterway. Emma called out often, sick with worry. She left the horse several times, her and Mark checking tall grass and reeds and shouting the man’s name frantically.
     
          They searched for hours before Tim returned to the south side of the banks and shook his head.
          “They never came up on that side. I saw no evidence of them.”
          Mark fought back tears, knowing his father was an accomplished tracker. “Maybe you need to search this side, Pa. I could have missed something. We’ll go ahead, the current is moving fast, maybe he’s down a ways yet.”
          Timothy turned the stallion and began working his way back along the riverbank while the other two continued on downriver.
     
     
          Roland hit the water with a chilling splash as he struggled to shake off the man clutching his back. He fought for the surface, kicking hard and gasped for air before being pulled under again. He felt the burn of a cut across his bicep and the sting spurred him as he kicked hard against a rock, freeing himself from the assailant. The aggressor sputtered and lunged towards him again. Roland swam towards the bank, lost his footing and was swept into the current.
          He felt a tug on his boot and kicked hard, but lacked the strength and coordination in his injured leg to free himself and sunk under the icy water. He grabbed the attacker by the hair under the water and pulled him to the surface. Both men fought for air. Roland’s chest heaved hard and his fist came out of the water and landed hard against the other man’s face.
          His enemy shook his head, splashing water into his face. He grabbed Roland’s arms and chest in a gripping hug and pulled them both under the surface.
          When Roland had again wrenched himself free, he tried once more to reach the shore. He grabbed a log frantically and the piece broke free, pulling him along with the rush. The driftwood eventually hung on a