Wide is the Water by Jane Aiken Hodge

did, there was no cover except for the wood ahead of them. ‘I thing we’d better go on, get into the wood, hope to hide there,’ she said. ‘It looks quite big. There might even be a side track we could take.’
    â€˜I surely hope so.’
    As the sledge moved forward again, a horseman emerged from the wood, riding hard, sparks of ice flying up from his horse’s hooves. He was holding his reins left-handed, Mercy saw, and swaying dangerously in the saddle. Whether friend or enemy, he was badly hurt. And now, behind him, she could hear shouting from the wood. How many voices? Not many, she thought.
    He had seen them. ‘Help!’ he cried, and then, near enough to see that two of them were girls: ‘No, save yourselves! I’ll hold them as long as I can. I killed their leader, I think. Quick! Back the way you came. It’s your only hope.’ Level with them now, he pulled his horse to a sliding halt and made a fumbling effort to reload the pistol he held in his left hand. ‘Save yourself, madame. There’s no hope for me.’
    Now she recognised his slight accent. He was French, one of America’s new allies.
    â€˜The British?’ she asked.
    â€˜No. Some
canaille
. They ambushed me in the wood. I killed their leader, hoped for a moment the others would run for it. They’re on foot,’ he explained.
    â€˜Then we can all escape them!’ exclaimed Mercy.
    â€˜No. I can ride no further.’
    It was too obviously true. Blood was showing now, a dark stain on the right side of his coat.
    â€˜Give me your pistol.’ Mercy had made up her mind. ‘You can’t use it. I can. And will. Jed, turn the sledge across the road. We’ll fire on them from behind it, try to keep them from seeing how few we are. Better that than trying to run for it. Besides, we can’t leave him. Sir’ – she turned to the Frenchman – ‘let me help you dismount. Then they need not see that you are wounded. It will make us seem more of a threat. Quick! They’ll be out of the woods any minute now.’ The sounds of shouting were much nearer. ‘How many?’ she asked as she steadied his difficult descent from the horse.
    â€˜Five. Four now. And I may have wounded another.’
    â€˜Then we have a chance. The light’s going. When they appear, you must speak to them. Tell them to stand, or we fire. Make it sound as if we were friends of yours, soldiers, a threat. That’s right, Jed.’ He had been manoeuvring the sledge so it lay at an angle across the road, the horses to one side in a passing place. ‘Fire when I give the word,’ she told him, swiftly examining the Frenchman’s pistol. ‘Does it fire true?’ she asked.
    â€˜Yes, if you can handle it.’
    â€˜Oh, never fear for that.’ She was trying to decide whether to leave Ruth in the sledge. It was a good deal darker now, and she thought that they would present a fairly formidable-looking group silhouetted against the snow. ‘Keep down, Ruth,’ she urged. ‘And keep quiet.’ Fatal if she should scream. ‘Jed, you take the one to your left, I’ll fire to the right. Here they come!’ A little groupof dark figures had emerged from the wood and hesitated at the sight of their party. ‘Now, monsieur. Frighten them if you can,’ she urged.
    â€˜Halt, there,’ he shouted as they began to come forward, rather hesitantly, Mercy thought. ‘I have met my friends. We are armed and ready for you. Come any further, and we fire.’
    They paused, an indistinct huddle against the dark of the wood, and Mercy turned to Jed. ‘We’ll have to hold our fire until they are clear of the trees,’ she told him. ‘We’d never hit them now. When they are outlined against that bank of snow, that’s our time.’
    â€˜If they don’t fire first,’ said Jed.
    â€˜I doubt they can see us any