A Place Called Freedom - Ken Follett [174]
Whatever the truth, the all-important task was to capture Lizzie.
Unfortunately, the shooting had warned her.
He knew his wife. What would she do?
Patience and caution were foreign to her. She rarely hesitated. She reacted quickly and decisively. By now she would be running this way. She would be almost back in the clearing before she thought to slow down and look ahead and make a plan.
He found a spot where he could see clearly for thirty or forty yards along the bank of the stream. He hid himself in the bushes. Then he cocked the flintlock of his rifle.
Indecision struck him like a sudden pain. What would he do when she came into his sights? If he shot her all his troubles would be over. He tried to pretend he was hunting deer. He would aim for the heart, just below the shoulder, for a clean kill.
She came into view.
She was half walking and half running, stumbling along the uneven riverbank. She was wearing men’s clothing again, but he could see her bosom heaving with exertion. She carried two rifles under her arm.
He aimed at her heart, but he saw her naked, straddling him on the bed in the Chapel Street house, her breasts quivering as they made love; and he could not shoot.
When she was ten yards away he stepped out of the undergrowth.
She stopped in her tracks and gave a cry of horror.
“Hello, darling,” he said.
She gave him a look of hatred. “Why couldn’t you just let me go?” she said. “You don’t love me!”
“No, but I need a grandchild,” he said.
She looked scornful. “I’d rather die.”
“That’s the alternative,” he said.
There was a moment of chaos after Lennox fired his pistols at Mack.
The horses were frightened by the close-range shooting. Peg’s ran away. She stayed on, tied as she was, and hauled on the reins with her bound hands, but she could not stop it and they disappeared into the trees. Dobbs’s horse was bucking and he fought to bring it under control. Lennox began hastily to reload his weapons.
That was when Fish Boy made his move.
He ran at Dobbs’s horse, jumped on behind him, and wrestled Dobbs out of the saddle.
With a burst of exhilaration Mack realized he was not yet beaten.
Lennox dropped his pistols and ran to the rescue.
Mack stuck out a foot and tripped Lennox.
Dobbs fell off his horse, but one ankle got tangled in the rope by which Fish Boy was tied to the saddle. The horse, now terrified, bolted. Fish Boy clung to its neck for dear life. It ran out of sight, dragging Dobbs along the ground after it.
With savage glee Mack turned to face Lennox. Only the two of them were left in the clearing. At last it had come to a fistfight between them. I’ll kill him, Mack thought.
Lennox rolled over and came up with a knife in his hand.
He lunged at Mack. Mack dodged, then kicked Lennox’s kneecap and danced out of range.
Limping, Lennox came at him. This time he feinted with the knife, let Mack dodge the wrong way, then struck again. Mack felt a sharp pain in his left side. He swung with his right fist and hit Lennox a mighty blow to the side of the head. Lennox blinked and raised the knife.
Mack backed away. He was younger and stronger than Lennox, but Lennox probably had much experience of knife fights. With a stab of panic he realized that close combat was not the way to defeat a man with a knife. He had to change his tactics.
Mack turned and ran a few yards, looking for a weapon. His eye lit on a rock about the size of his fist. He stooped and picked it up and turned.
Lennox rushed him.
Mack threw the rock. It hit Lennox squarely in the center of the forehead, and Mack gave a shout of triumph. Lennox stumbled, dazed. Mack had to make the most of his advantage. Now was the moment to disarm Lennox. Mack kicked out and connected with Lennox’s right elbow.
Lennox dropped the knife and gave a cry of dismay.
Mack had him.
He hit Lennox on the chin with all his might. The blow hurt his hand but gave him deep satisfaction. Lennox backed away, fear in his eyes, but Mack was after