Carver's Miscalculation

Transcribed by Charity

Carver's hand held tightly to that of the cousin who lay writhing on the table as the physician dug for the bullet embedded deep within the man's chest. His own jaw clenched with obvious pain in sympathy, even as anger fueled the memories of the failure at the Ridd farm. He had gone after Lorna, and returned only with carnage. And John Ridd had not been among the bodies. The only wounded at the Ridd farm was a soldier! 

He caught a glimpse of fluttering black cloak out of the corner of his eye, and turned swiftly as his father approached. Counselor's eyes were furious, the normally languid face expressing severe distemper, and the short words cut directly like a knife. "Ensor would be ashamed of you! You made a mistake!"

Dropping the man's hand, to save his dignity, Carver moved away from the table, under the shade of the great, shadowed trees that aligned the path. "You underestimated them!" His father's words came again, accusingly, laced with disbelief at his son's obvious stupidity, and Carver, almost tamely for his normal temperament, promised, "It won't happen again."

Counselor shook his head, glancing at the valley and its inhabitants, who meekly went about their work, oblivious to the drama that was playing out in the shadows. "What will you do now?"

Carver leapt at the chance to prove himself. "Take twenty men! Finish the job properly!" But his words did not bring the desired effect; Counselor rolled his eyes with disgust and exclaimed, "Then you've learned nothing!" Again and again he had tried to impress upon his son the importance of judgment, of choosing which battles to fight, but Carver had been a rebellious pupil, defying even Ensor. What hope had he now of influencing this young man, this man destined for greatness?

But then, a glimmer of hope, for Carver's tone was decidedly meek as he asked softly, "What would you suggest?"

"Wait." It was only one word, but held such meaning, such power. Counselor could devise a way to bring Lorna back to them... to wipe these defiant Ridds off the face of the moor. To glower as he crushed his boot into their face...

"If we lose Lorna, we lose everything!"

Counselor smiled, a devious, evil-intended smile. "We haven't lost her yet."