MARK half woke in a daze—then was instantly wide awake and aware of an intense searing pain shooting through his leg and up his left side. In a panic, he tried weakly to struggle to his feet but couldn’t move. Then he took in his surroundings and realised he was lying on a bed, and his left leg was heavily bandaged and held slightly aloft in a sort of sling. As his eyes focused he became aware of Stephanie sitting by his bedside. Her face was tear-stained but she seemed relieved to see him awake.

“Oh Mark! I’ve been so worried about you.”

“Where am I? What’s happened?” said Mark with a groan.

“You’re back at the inn in Ashapi. You took a really nasty knock on the leg, broke the bone quite seriously, open fracture and you lost some blood. And you fainted, probably from the shock and pain. At first I thought I’d lost you…”

Mark too felt as if he’d ‘lost’ himself. He unwisely tried to shift his position in the bed and winced in agony. “So what happened?” he whispered, hoarsely. “William?”

“It was William. He hit you with the butt of his gun. Then he chased after your horse, mounted it and rode off. I did my best to bind up your leg, stop the bleeding, then I thought the best thing was to ride back to the town for help. I couldn’t put you on my horse—sorry! So I left you—it was the only thing to do. But luckily, once I explained at the inn, the town was raised, they sent out a cart to bring you back here, and the doctor’s been to see you. He says you should mend: you’re ‘a strong healthy young lad’ was what he said—but you’ll be laid up for some weeks.”

“But what about our wedding?” Mark was starting to get hysterical. “What about our mothers? And the horses?”

“I’ve sent a letter back to Adrian and Jack, asking them to tell the priest that the wedding is postponed. And also to let our mothers know. They’ll arrange things. I sent my horse back with the messenger, so it should get back to the stables in time.”

“The other horse? My horse?”

“There’s a posse going after William. He’s wanted for horse-stealing now—a serious crime in these parts. I just hope they catch him.”

“What a fool I’ve been! Just to come here in the first place, when there was no need. I should have let things be. So what happens? Do I have to stay like this?” It seemed pointless to put the question, but Mark put it anyway.

“Yes. The landlord and his wife have been very kind. They say you can have this room as long as you need it.”

As it chanced, the innkeeper had just then come into their room, and he nodded in agreement. He was pleased to see Mark conscious, and commiserated with him for his injury.

“We’ll get William, don’t you worry. He’ll have to answer to me for this. Fighting with my guests! And stealing the horse.”

The fervour with which he uttered this remark went some way to raising Mark’s spirits, but he still felt very weak, and his leg, while not quite so painful, was still throbbing angrily. He dozed off once more.

So things went on like this for a day or two. Some broth was brought in and Stephanie fed him with a spoon. Mark was able to move his arms weakly but not sit up. The doctor showed up once or twice, and promised that he’d soon be on the mend, although the leg would take some weeks to heal completely. At length the innkeeper reappeared.

“Well, I’ve some good news. The posse caught up with William and the horse: I knew they would, he’s a good stable lad but not much of a rider. But he says you started the fight. Is that so?”

“Not true,” put in Stephanie. “I heard a gunshot, I suppose it must have come from William, that’s how it started.”

“Yes …. I remember. Just skimmed over the horse’s neck…” said Mark weakly. “Then I fell off.”

“Well, that must have been frightening for you, for sure. But William is adamant that you landed the first blow.”

“I don’t remember. Stephanie?”

“I’m not sure,” replied Stephanie. “It all happened so quickly.”

“It seems we’d better not press the matter of the fight then,” said the innkeeper. “It’d be your word against his. But horse-stealing is another matter. William’s in the hands of the Sheriff now, and he’ll be dealt with. The best you can do is rest, and leave things with us.”

As the days went by Mark slowly regained his strength. The splints were taken off his leg and it was re-bound in a lighter bandage. He was able to sit up. As he was feeding himself unaided for the first time, both Margaret and Martha dropped in.

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“Oh my poor boy!” they cried, almost simultaneously, as each in turn went to hug and kiss him gently. “We got Stephanie’s letter,” continued Margaret, “and came as soon as we could. We’ve been so worried. As has everyone. But you look much better than we feared: Stephanie said you were in a very bad way.”

After mutual reassurances, Martha explained that she’d be taking the coach back to Kamach the next day. “I really need to be getting back, my customers will be wanting my needlework,” she added, laughing. “But once you’re up and about again, I shall expect you both to call on me. Don’t worry about the wedding: that can wait.” Margaret nodded at this. “Just knowing you’re alive and seeing the two of you is enough. And of course I know Sophie will take good care of you, Mark.”

“ ‘Stephanie’,” murmured Stephanie. But she was ignored.

Margaret, on the other hand, said that she would be staying on for a few days. She wanted to see her boy on the mend.

Once both mothers had departed, the days began to drag. Mark insisted that, while he was still bedridden, he didn’t need round-the-clock attention, and wouldn’t Stephanie like to go out for a walk; get some fresh air? Eventually, after a lot of persuading, Stephanie agreed, remembering the walk she’d taken from this very town on the day after—no matter what day after.

So, with the weather beginning to turn warmer, she set out, re­tracing her steps of a few weeks before. She easily found the same trail off the road that led to the lake, and was soon sitting on the very same flat rock she’d sat on before.

The geese and ducks were still swimming around the lake vigorously, although the drakes were beginning to lose their brightly-coloured breeding plumage and don the more drab ‘eclipse’ plumage for the summer. Stephanie sat and watched them for a while, thinking about how different things were now, to what they had been last time. At least she had nothing to fear from William any more: he’d been taken care of and was in the town jail awaiting trial. She wondered how Michael and Rachel were faring, and how long it would be before they’d be able to go in search of them once more. That letter from the mysterious ‘Peter’ looked encouraging, at least—if it was genuine.

Back in town, she bought some books to while away the time while Mark was cooped up. He seemed relieved to have something to do: and he’d also started writing up a diary of their adventures since they set out from Waknuk. It seemed like something that ought to be written down, although they’d have to keep it very safe from prying eyes!

The same serving girl who’d tipped them off about William’s whereabouts, and who said her name was Marie, looked in on Mark once or twice. She looked radiant, and explained that not only was she relieved about William being locked up, but she’d meanwhile met up with another boyfriend—and this time things were going well. Mark and Stephanie congratulated her. Marie was most contrite about having played a part in Mark’s getting injured, but Mark reassured her that far from being to blame, she’d been of immense help to them.

After about two weeks a pair of crutches were brought in, and Mark was able to hobble around the room and out into the corridor. But he was still not allowed to leave the inn for some time. Spring was almost over and summer was well set before at last he was at last given leave to wander around the town of Ashapi. But it was still another month before the bandages would finally come off for good.

Now that the prospects of setting out once more seemed better, Mark and Stephanie discussed at length how and if they should resume the search for Rachel and Michael. If the trail had already gone cold when they set out from Waknuk, it was surely even colder now! Should they seek out this mysterious ‘Peter’, whose letter Mark had carefully kept a copy of? But there was absolutely nothing to go on: he had given no clue as to his whereabouts apart from the words ‘some distance to the north-west of Rigo’. But that could mean any one of hundreds of farms and villages. Was Peter able to use thought-shapes, and was that how Rachel and Michael had contacted him?

But Peter had also said that they planned to set out for Rigo ‘once the weather improves’. So perhaps they were already on the way to Rigo, or even already there. Surely there would be more chance of finding them in that city, than fruitlessly scouring a large area of Labrador.

At last the doctor pronounced Mark’s leg healed, although he would still find it weak to walk on and should not overdo it at first. Mark decided to test this and found that he could walk fairly easily with the aid of a walking stick, although not very far.

At that, they agreed to set out for Rigo. When they let the inn­keeper know, he reminded them that William was still in the Sheriff’s custody, and their testimony would be needed. So before their departure, they walked over to the Sheriff’s, the innkeeper too, Mark still limping somewhat. The Sheriff seemed quite good-natured, especially when the innkeeper explained the situation, and he agreed that they need not appear for the trial, provided that they gave a signed statement.

So Stephanie explained that she was riding some way behind Mark. She heard a shot but couldn’t tell if either Mark or the horse had been hit. Anyway, the frightened horse reared up throwing Mark off, after which it bolted. Then Mark scrambled to his feet, William emerged from the trees, and a fight ensued—but she could not tell who started it. All she knew was that at some point William took flight, chasing after the horse which had slowed down: he caught it, mounted and rode off, leaving Mark lying injured on the trail. She was about to go on explaining how she tended to Mark at first and then rode back to the town for help, but the Sheriff stopped her at that point.

“Thank you very much,” he said. “So long as you sign the state­ment as witnessed by us, I’m sure that’ll be enough to deal with our young offender as regards the horse-theft. I think there’s not enough evidence to charge him with assault or attempted murder: firing a gun into the air is not a crime, and it’s not clear who started the fight. So I’m going to drop that matter. I hope you agree that’s fair.”

Mark and Stephanie both nodded assent, relieved that they weren’t about to be detained in Ashapi a moment longer, and were free to depart. Mark decided that he was not ready to go on horseback again, so they returned to the inn and booked places on the stage-coach.

When the time came to take their leave of the innkeeper and his wife, Mark and Stephanie thanked them profusely. Mark tried to press some money on them in recognition of their long stay at the inn, but at first the landlord wouldn’t hear of it. Eventually he relented and agreed to accept a token sum, considerably less than what he would normally have charged for the room.

And so on a bright sunny morning, Mark and Stephanie boarded the coach and set off on the long road to Rigo—the road which Stephanie had already taken, under such different circumstances, when she was a child named Sophie.