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She scowled. "Forget it." |
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She looked ahead of them again and saw an outline in the mist: the rising embankment sheltering the sparse buildings of the town and, beyond, the earthen ramparts of Fort Pitt. |
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"Oh, no," she whispered to herself, running her chilled fingers along her throat. |
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In what seemed like moments, they rounded the edge of the Point and pulled up to the bank where they'd landed before. It was a muddy mess now. The water was much higher, and Thorn had to drag the pirogue a distance to protect it from floating away. |
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What did that matter now? He wouldn't need it to return to the inn. Neither would Mariah. No matter what happened here, she would remain in this townor, if she could find that blasted Pierce, go home. |
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While Thorn was distracted with the boat, Mariah used the opportunity to hurry up the sodden path. This time, she didn't head for town but directly for the fort. |
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She passed the closest bastion, then climbed into the small raised island she'd been told was the West Ravelin. She crossed the wooden drawbridge, noting that the rain had elevated the river and that the moat called the "Isthmus" was, for the first time that she'd seen, filled. The guard at the far end was the same man she'd seen when she'd arrived in this time: young and homely, with pockmarked skin. His tricornered hat held a small puddle of water. He held a rifle at his side, one less cherished than Thorn's, judging by its lack of polish on the wooden barrel and the dullness of the metal firing mechanism. |
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"State your business, miss," came his voice in its coarse British accent. |
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"I . . . I'm here to see a soldier named Will Shepherd. Please hurry. It's important." She glanced down the path she'd taken. Fortunately, she didn't see Thorn, but she knew it would not take him long to catch up. |
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The guard looked dubious. "If you tell me what you want with Shepherd, I can find out if he" |
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"Sergeant Ainsley, then. He's a friend of mine." He was a friend of Thorn's. He surely would want to know about |
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