He did not think her a harpy. Or....just as likely he was too much a gentleman to admit such to her. Regardless, Maura was satisfied with his pronouncement.

"Though I can't say I've ever met a woman of such focus for violent thoughts.  Not even those I've seen kill a man." 

"Well, I have killed no man so far....but yes, but tis me hope that will change," she admitted.

"Though I can't say I've met any woman with equal cause for it, either."

"I am glad you can see it that way, Roland," Maura nodded.

The topic drifted to savoring life.

"I might even surprise you before this is all over, Roland."

Roland's brows raised and he chuckled, "You've been doing that quite capably since the moment we met, Maura.  I don't expect that will abate any time soon."

Just then the road forked in two directions. Tracks were of little help as the road was dry and others used the path each and every day, there were wagon wheels grooves too. But now...which direction? Maura was about to ask the man when Roland then pointed down onto the road maybe fifteen yards ahead in the northern fork of the road. Oh yes, she spotted it now.

The object of interest was nothing other than a sizeable horse dropping, normally something totally ignored as it was just what horses did. But this gave them a huge clue. It was plainly fresh, in other words that animal had done that quite recently. Now perhaps it was another rider but not one who was coming their way or the pair would have encountered a rider or riders. They had met no one. So, while nothing like this was certain, few things in life were.

"Yes, it could be him. We have nothing else to go on. I wish I knew the area better," Maura sighed.

They took the north fork and continued.

***

It was perhaps an hour when they approached a river, stretching for miles blocking their way. And needless to say no bridge. Upon coming up closer to the riverline shore, it looked quite deep. But there - on the other side of the river was a flat raft like ferry boat. Nothing large but then this road most likely did not support major traffic. A closer study of it by the pair of them and no sign could be sign of any person on or by the boat. First Roland called out at the top of his lungs and then Maura joined him, hoping to rouse some sign of life over there. Nothing. It was as if the boat was abandoned. Ominous.

Maura decided to dismount, she was sore from riding already and it was good to put two feet on land.

"Now what? We could go many a mile either direction before we come to a bridge or another ferry?" she asked.

Roland's eyes were upon the ferry on the far bank.

His mind was upon the circumstances that had put it there.

"He took it across, and likely murdered the poor fellow on the other side..."   He was only saying out loud what they both must suspect.   But speculating on that wouldn't get them across the river.  They needed to make a decision, and make it soon.

Turning to Maura, Roland frowned.  

"A horse can ford a river.  But not safely.  You have to decide right now how much you want your revenge, and how eager you are to have it right away.  We could urge our beasts across.  If they are good, they'll try to do it for us.  But they could throw us.  Break a leg.  Even drown as they're carried down-river.  There's five ways it can go wrong, and only one way it goes right.

So my question to you is... are you willing to bank your life on such odds?  To risk dying before you even get within arm's reach of your vengeance?"

Wayfarer

Roland now stated aloud what Maura had been thinking only had not voiced. They both reckoned that whoever operated that ferry had been killed by the very man they were chasing. It was a grim thought but certainly a strong possibility.

"I be thinkin' the same," she nodded still staring out over the width of that river. All she could think now was the longer they took to get on over this water barrier the further their quarry got away from them.

"A horse can ford a river.  But not safely.  You have to decide right now how much you want your revenge, and how eager you are to have it right away.  We could urge our beasts across.  If they are good, they'll try to do it for us.  But they could throw us.  Break a leg.  Even drown as they're carried down-river.  There's five ways it can go wrong, and only one way it goes right."

She heard him out but figured wild horses swam rivers all the time. Granted they don't have saddles and passengers on them. She did think his estimation of the odds against a success were a little pessimistic. But she would not argue with the man.

"So my question to you is... are you willing to bank your life on such odds?  To risk dying before you even get within arm's reach of your vengeance?"

"That'd be a fair question it is. But if I take no risks, then there is no point in me even continuin' this whole thing. And I will not quit now. I have known since the beginning back in Quebec that this could end in my death. So be it."

"You do not know this river anymore than I do, we could have to ride many miles parallel to it to find another crossing. And which parallel direction?" she shrugged narrow shoulders.

"If you worry these animals will drown then what about this? I can swim. Learned as a young girl. The current does not look too strong. I will swim over there then and see about the ferry. You can cover me with your rifle in case there is our man watching for us to try n' cross. Better you do the coverin' than me. I've yet to take a shot of the fine gun you sold me let alone a rifle," she proposed then in a completely serious tone of voice.

Roland watched Maura with a frown as she laid out her plan.

"So you propose to swim across to the other side, while I cover you with my rifle from seventy or a hundred yards away.   Then you'll return with the ferry so that myself and the horses can get across in safety?"

He reached up with a hand and touched his beard, perhaps giving the impression of being deep in thought.

"I think that when I bodily shoved into you and knocked you to the ground, I may have caused you a knock on the head. 

Such is the only way that you could conceive I hold my manhood so cheap that I'd cower on this side of the riverbank while watching you engage in derring-do on the other."

It was perhaps a harsher and more sarcastic reply than she deserved.  If she'd been a man, would he have been so affronted at the suggestion?

Perhaps not.

But she was a woman, and he was here because of a biased belief that she deserved his protection more than any common man.  

"If we are to attempt a foolhardy pass of this river, then we'll just do it side by side.  Risk it all together.  And if I die, I'll at least die the way I always wanted to."

With a wet woman gasping for breath beside me, he thought.

Without further ado, he trotted up the bank until he found a likely spot about forty yards hence, where the entry into the river on both sides seemed gradual enough that a horse could manage it without immediate peril.   What might lie between the banks was anyone's guess and the devil's gamble.

"Here," he declared, "And God save us."

And if there were no objections beyond a bitter reply, he'd plunge into these waters with a prayer for his life.

Assuming Ember would even obey such a ludicrous request.

Wayfarer

While Roland might have been prepared to urge his horse into the war for their risky crossing, Maura was not. She fully realized the heavy dress which went down to her ankles would be the worst possible garment to be wearing if she did have to swim for herself so she dismounted at the rivers bank.

"Sorry for the delay but I am afraid modesty shall be cast aside by the need for caution. Swimming in all this heavy clothing is never recommended in the best of times. So I must change out of this," she explained to him then began to very calmly divest herself of shoes, long stockings stretched over her kneecaps, then dress and petticoats too. Until she was down to a thin chemise. Her bare arms and legs were quite pale, unsurprising really. At least her hair were already up in a bun behind her head.Next she took a waterproofed canvas sack and stuffed her outfit into it while she shoes she jammed into a saddle bag. Hopefully it would not all get TOO wet.

Just before mounting she glanced up at him, "Look if you wish or not. I had little choice in the matter."

Now mounted she took a deep breath, patted her mare, spoke some kindly words to the creature, and then urged the big animal into the river waters. There was a current but nothing of the sort to carry one away downstream. The horses gamely started kicking away while Maura clung to the saddle horn. The chill of the water was more than a little uncomfortable. But too late to worry about that discomfort, at the moment Maura concentrated on keeping her head above the churning water surface.

Some long strenuous minutes later the horses were finding river bottom ascending to the bank edge as they clambered on out of the deep water. Maura was still hanging in there, soaked to the core though. She looked to her companion to see how he had fared.

Roland paused and looked down at Maura from his horse as she began to disrobe.  

He hadn't considered the nature of female dress.  Even more multi-layered than a man's clothing, often consisting of heavy cloth or wire frameworks.  She was right.  It was an anchor.

But as his gaze lingered, his mind soon ceased to rest upon the nature of women's clothing, and was increasingly upon the woman herself.

There were few women in the world whom Roland found completely unappealing.  There was almost always something in a woman to admire or enjoy.  Some curve to the body or quirk of the lip to hook the imagination.  A button nose, or proud protuberance.  Long legs or short.  Shocking red hair or raven black.  Straight  or curled. 

And there was almost always some behavior to intrigue the curiosity.  An adorable ignorance that kept cropping up as a source of amusement.  Or a piercing intellect.  A fiery temper.  A compassionate heart.  A casual jocularity with good humor.  

But Maura needed no consideration of alternative traits in order to be found beautiful.  She was a good-looking woman even only to the depth of her skin.  The fact that she was also tough enough and willful enough to engage in this wild adventure was icing on the cake.

"Look if you wish or not. I had little choice in the matter."

"Oh, I looked, Maura Walsh," he confessed as she re-mounted and prepared to undertake the crossing.  "Even twice."

Then he urged his horse around, lowered his head as though he was a bull preparing to charge, and set his heels into Ember's flanks.

There was no hesitation.  Ember rushed into the water.

Good Horse.

Wayfarer

So he looked twice huh? Well, it was nice to hear, meant she still had it, the looks to attract a man. If not the personality these past months. This was a nice little boost to her womanly confidence though. But it was back to the chase, to the vital matters at hand. Revenge!

Turned out Maura made it (or rather her spirited little mare did all the work) onto to the other shore before the man. Well, in truth he did weigh more than she did so his horse had a harder time of it. And she had slipped off the saddle and had had to hang onto the saddle horn for a bit so she was completely soaked now. But the big thing was she and her horse were not drowned.

Now she turned to wait on him to join her. As she watched she took a long look at the man, no doubt oblivious to being watched given the strenuous activity. He was quite the gentleman, not as in a fancy swell but in his gallantry to help her, a stranger. He was brave. And yes, he was older than her but handsome enough in his own way. And yes, he was interesting too. Too bad he was English.....

Even as she thought it, she realized instantly that 'no', it did not matter now, if it ever did.

Roland had heard once that bravery was being afraid to do something, and doing it anyway.

Often in life, when he'd done something brave, he'd been driven by a flush of anger or indignation.  There wasn't much fear in the moment.

But now, looking at a dangerous thing and then doing it, he was afraid.  He was afraid when the horse was neck-deep and thrashing its legs.  He was afraid when the hooves seemed to catch and slip on elements of the river bed.  He was afraid when he almost fell off the damned thing, and would be forced to find out how good of a swimmer he was with boots on.

But none of that went wrong.  And he did it anyway.  And soon enough, he was on the other side trying to do his best at seeming like he'd never been afraid at all.

A glance at Maura took his mind off of his recent anxieties.  

A wet woman gasping beside him.   He supposed he could die, now.

"No rest for the wicked, I suppose," he declared, and prepared himself for the continuing chase.  Tonight, he'd have to take special care to clean his guns.  They won't have liked the water, much.

Wayfarer

Maura greeted the man with that wry smile of hers, "Good to see you English are still masters of the sea."  It was a lame joke but the best she could come up with. At least by now she was relaxed enough with the man to be able to make such silly smalltalk. To show him that not all her conversations revolved around her pursuit of Brampton and vengeance. 

"I do need to get dressed of course but I believe first order of business needs be check out about the ferry and the whereabouts of it's owner? Also I shall arm myself now just in case. Still we have not been shot at yet so it would seem our man has continued on with his craven flight."

In the second saddlebag was the revolver she had freshly purchased from none other than Mr. Smith and a fine looking piece it was too. Of course she still had yet to fire it even in practice but she knew the basics. Point and pull the trigger. And in her case, HOPE.

They were a good forty yards from the flatboat run aground on the shoreline and still no sight nor sound of the fellow who operated it. There was a treeline so some cover could aid their approach but she would let him take charge of this sort of thing.

"Well then, I be ready, Mr. Smith. Oh and do not worry about me bare feet. I be Irish and I spent much of my childhood without shoes or stockings, me Da and Ma were poor as churchmice."

Roland chuckled at her 'master of the sea' comment.   "Indeed.  I shall endeavor to find a mast in these woods and set some sails upon Ember here.  And perhaps carry some spare flags to claim shores for England."

It was a nice bit of levity to release the tension of the passing.  Of course, Maura's partially undressed and moistened form raised some tensions of its own.  "I promise not to mind your feet, Maura.  Or any other parts you choose to leave uncovered.  I must admit I can see what it is that the crown found so appealing about the Irish Isle.  It's no wonder they've been loath to leave..."

A bit of dangerous political comedy never hurt anyone... or he hoped it wouldn't.  She was in the process of arming herself.

He nodded when she mentioned the ferry.  Yes... he supposed they should confirm what they already suspected. 

He waited as she dressed and prepared herself, and then clomped through some trees atop his Ember, advancing slowly.  When they got close, and it was time to cross open ground, he dismounted and pulled his long four-barreled rifle from its sheath on his horse.  Advancing the final paces on foot, he was careful and quiet just in case the villain had elected to hide nearby in ambush.

There was no such ambush forthcoming.   Only the evidence of a killing.

A man who had never seen the shot that ended him.  The only question was whether he'd known the man would shoot him, or if he'd believed himself to be carrying a good customer across.  

Roland wanted to leave a note for any of this man's kin who might come upon him.  But he had no paper or pencil... and in truth he did not know what would be appropriate to say, anyway.  'This man was killed by an assassin whom we now Chase.  Sincerely, Roland Smith and Maura Walsh.'  It seemed a ludicrous thing in any event.

"I hope he died with peaceful thoughts, and not afeared with the villain already threatening to shoot him as he put the ferry across.  Either way... we shall return a bullet to him that did this, by God."

It was as much an eulogy as the dead would receive here.

Wayfarer