Jody clutched Jenny to his chest. They dropped to the ground just as Clyde lunged out in front of them. All three bodies hit the earth at once.
One shot had been fired, but none of us knew who—if anyone—had been hit. Jody sat up, checked to make sure they were safe, and then unfolded his arms carefully. He looked down to see if Jenny had been hurt. She gazed up at her protector, marveling at his size and closeness, and then turned and saw her brother.
She hadn’t seen Clyde leap in front of the shot—she had been enveloped in Jody’s arms at the time—but she saw him now, flat on his back, lying still, eyes to heaven.
Blood was gushing out of her brother’s neck. She rushed to him, put her hands on the bloody hole, and screamed, “No, no, no! Stop bleeding, you gotta stop!”
His whole bearing changed the moment he saw his little sister above him, working fervently to stop the inevitable. Clyde’s pain and anxiety were replaced by pure love.
“No, you can’t die, no!” she kept screaming. But it was already too late. The blood had stopped spurting, but only because his heart had stopped beating. Jody came to her side and gently turned her so she wasn’t looking into her dead brother’s face. He bent down and shut the eyelids that had been staring out in peace, the slight smile frozen on his face.
The captain hadn’t moved, but Jody made sure that Jenny stayed behind him, out of the monster’s reach. He looked beyond the captain and saw the sergeant approaching with his men.
Sergeant Betz walked up to the scene and glared at the erstwhile captain, who was checking his pistol, looking at the sight, then down the muzzle, frowning, as if there were gremlins inside.
“Who are you?” the sergeant asked, holding his potential captive with his gaze.
“I am Captain Atholl MacLeod of His Majesty’s Secret Service,” he replied. “Now, if you will let me pass, I have work to do,” and took steps to leave.
“His Majesty’s Secret Service? There is no such division,” the sergeant said, and stepped in front of the captain, blocking his retreat. “You know, you really should learn how to lie better if you plan on continuing this ruse. No, on second thought, I don’t think you need to expend the effort. You’re heading to the gallows. Right. Now.” The sergeant turned at the waist, called, “Men,” and motioned for his soldiers to apprehend the shooter.
Suddenly, a horrific wail came from the lifeless form of Clyde. It wasn’t Clyde, though; it was Clayton. While all the posturing of the captain, the sergeant, and his men had been transpiring, Clayton had come out to mourn his brother, and had been crying softly over his body. But now he was back in the world of the living, and aware of what was going on. His little sister had been assaulted, kidnapped, and nearly raped by their brother’s murderer. His rage was at critical mass, and I could see that a nuclear explosion was imminent.
“Aarrggh!” Clayton’s cry of vengeance was worthy of any Highlander. But his wisdom of attacking an armed man with nothing but his bare hands was classically stupid Clayton. He pushed Jody and Jenny clear, and charged the captain, tackling his brother’s murderer to the ground. He glanced back to make sure that his sister was okay, then pinned the captain’s shoulders down and bit off a chunk of his ear. Or maybe he bit off the whole thing if what I saw was the entire appendage being spit out. Either way, Clayton was going back for more.
But Jenny didn’t want to be out of the way. She wanted payback, too, and didn’t want a champion—she wanted to do it herself. She picked herself up off the ground, and was ready to jump into the fray, when Wallace ordered, “You! Stay!”
She looked up, saw the fire in his eyes, and that long arm pointing at her to remain where she was, and—I was both stunned and happy to see—she stayed put.
Clayton and the captain rolled around on the ground—kicking, scratching, and generally fighting clumsily, but fervently. The captain fumbled for his knife while Clayton, ugh, tried to bite off the man’s nose.
Wallace loomed over the wrestling duo, and I thought for sure he was going to break them apart, but he just stayed off to the side, letting the two men beat on each other. He remained neutral, only observing the row—except for the one time he kicked the knife out of the captain’s hand.
After ten minutes, it was becoming obvious that both of the combatants were tiring. “Break it up,” Wallace said, “he’s had enough.”
“Yeah, he’s beat, and you’re next,” the captain hissed breathlessly. “Coward.”
“I was talking about you, asshole,” Wallace replied coolly, looking down at the bloody and beaten pseudo-captain lying on the ground, his child-bitten left hand cradling the spot on the side of his head that used to sport an ear. Wallace glanced up and saw the sergeant observing his four men bringing in the three rogue soldiers. “Sergeant, here’s another one for you,” he called.
I turned around and saw Sarah rushing toward the wounded, gathering her skirts with one hand, carrying her little black medical bag in the other. It seemed silly to follow her, but I felt as if I needed to protect her, even though there were now half a dozen men fully capable of doing that. I patted my pockets, made sure I had everything I came with, and followed behind her.
Sarah nodded to Wallace and Jody, letting them know that she could handle this. “Sergeant, I’m a healer, and I would like to tend to the, er,” she cleared her throat as she tried to assign a name to the phony captain, “the, er, man’s wounds. I wouldn’t want them to get infected.”
“Infected? You mean red and full of pus, fevered? I don’t see how that will make any difference. He’ll probably be hanged in a couple days anyway.” The sergeant saw Sarah getting ready to protest, so acquiesced. “Go ahead and see to him if it makes you feel better. Personally, I think he got off easy. You should have let him finish chewing off body parts,” he said as he looked over at Wallace. Wallace shrugged his shoulder and escorted Sarah to the captain, still lying on his side.
I hung back; I really didn’t want to get too close to that ugly sack of cells with opposable thumbs. Just looking at him literally made my skin crawl. I never knew what that phrase meant until I saw him clutching at Jenny. Ugh, there it goes again. Memo to self: do not think of Captain Asshole ever again, or the sensation of centipede legs marching over limbs and belly will ensue.
Sarah quickly set to her task, focusing on the captain’s wounds, totally ignoring Wallace, the sergeant, and the rest of the contingent of good and bad Redcoats. “I want to clean and bandage that hand and ear before you leave. There’s no telling if they’ll find someone else to take care of it,” she said to her patient.
Jenny. I looked up and saw her holding, clutching, Clayton to her chest. She was trying to smooth out his wild hair and was crying. I didn’t know whether it was from sorrow about Clyde’s death or relief that this incident was over. I wanted to make sure she was okay, but I definitely didn’t want to intrude on their private moment. I knew that the brothers were close—ugh, too close—but didn’t know much about her. From the fuss she was making about his appearance and comfort, I’d say she was the parent in the relationship.
“I need some water,” Sarah said.
“I’ll get some for you,” I offered.
“There’s an empty bucket on the porch,” the sergeant told me.
On my way over, I saw that Jody had joined Jenny and Clayton. They were all kneeling beside Clyde’s body, and it looked as if Jody was saying a prayer. Wallace was not going near them, and I could understand why on more than one level. He left to go stand with Mac Donaldson and the other man. I passed them on the way to the well. “Are you all right?” I asked.
“Jest a little bruised dignity is all,” said Mac. “This is my brother-in-law, Todd Gillespie,” he said. We both nodded and smiled.
“Nice to meet you, Todd. Mac, the girls will sure be happy to see you. Everybody is at our place. They came for the wedding. Oh shoot, I have to get water for Sarah. Bye!”
I literally ran to get the water, hoping the tears wouldn’t have a
chance to catch up with me. “Yeah, wonderful effin’ wedding day,” I grumbled as I filled the pail with water.
I had to get back to Sarah soon, but since it was only to ‘help’ that creep, I didn’t feel as if I should hurry. Besides, I couldn’t run with the bucket full of water, so I walked slowly, taking the opportunity to calm down and think about what had just happened.
I still had a groom-to-be, and it could have turned out worse. I looked around at the minimal mess that had ensued. No one in my family had been injured, the phony taxman captain had been apprehended, and Jenny had been saved from the paws of that sadistic pervert. I guessed as dramatic as everything was today, I really hadn’t sustained any losses. Maybe we could get home in time for a nighttime wedding. A preacher and plenty of witnesses were already on hand, waiting for us to come back. Yes, it had turned out okay, but I was still pissed off at having to go through all this drama just because of one rotten, greedy asshole!
Oh, Lord. Jenny. I have been so absorbed with how this has impacted me and my wedding day that I haven’t even thought about her. She just lost her brother. She still has one more, and I’m sure they’ll be fine, but still, darn it, no one needed to die today!
I returned to Sarah with the bucket full of water and a gut full of rage. If she had heard me coming up, she didn’t acknowledge it. Her back was to me. She was seated on the ground next to the captain and had already bandaged his hand. By the lack of color in his face, she had used her alcohol blend as the disinfectant. He started to turn his head away so she could assess the damage to where his ear used to be, but paused long enough to snort with disdain as he glanced up at me.
My anger flared up again—actually exploded—and I lost control. “Here, let me help,” I growled, and impulsively threw half a bucket of water at the captain’s head.
The captain bolted upright and grabbed Sarah, all in the same efficient movement, as if he had already had it planned out.
“Oh, shit,” I said. I started to set the bucket down, but stopped midway when I saw them. The sergeant was coming in, his musket raised, ready to fire. Wallace was racing past him, warrior scowl set, dirk blade shining—it was much scarier than the black powder contraption the sergeant had. I glanced to where Jody had been, and saw that he and Clayton were sprinting towards us, too. My spiteful, extemporaneous water toss had just started extreme drama act number three. When would I learn to think before acting!
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I said frantically, but I could see it didn’t make a difference to the captain. He was purple-faced and furious!
But Sarah was cool, inexplicably mellow for the situation she was in, and then I noticed why—she had a scalpel in her hand. Unfortunately, she didn’t know that Captain Asshole had his hand on the pistol in his belt.
I gulped in a quart of courage and changed my attitude right away. “Where did you get that?” I asked and nodded to the pistol, both as a diversion and to let Sarah know that she was under-armed. I could also see Jody approaching in my peripheral vision and wanted him to be able to get closer.
“Oh, our little sauerkraut-sucking sergeant isn’t as bright as he thinks. I’ll bet he keeps his pistol loaded, right?” he asked, turning around to glare at the sergeant.
Sergeant Betz looked down at his belt and saw that his pistol was missing. The color left his face. He didn’t have to say that the pistol was loaded. It showed. “Uh, I’m sorry, miss, ma’am…”
“Ah, don’t worry about it, Sarge. I was just waiting for the good missus to finish the bandaging before I took off. Too bad the other one wasn’t closer, though. I would have had fun with her, even if she is a bit old,” he said, looking straight at me.
I was terrified for the first time today. I had run out of gunpowder and gimmicks, and didn’t know what to do. I felt deflated, like an empty sack, without substance. Whether this scenario would have played out the same way without my water toss or not, I still felt guilty. Then I remembered the phrase, ‘When it doubt, call out.’
Call out to the Man.
And so I did. My heart prayed fervently, but a mumbled, “Help us, Lord,” was all I could get out past my lips.
“Oh, so you’re one of those religious sorts, are you? I hear they’re the lustiest ones. Being repressed all day makes the activities at night much more fun—right, big boy?” he asked Wallace.
Wallace glowered as he slowly walked towards him, ready to put him in his place. Sarah shouted, “Get back,” and he froze.
“Oh, so I see you always mind the womenfolk. You have got to be the biggest sissy I have ever seen.”
Wallace’s face turned scarlet, but he breathed slowly and deeply, and rearranged the rage within him. Two breaths later, he was totally cool and composed. He grinned as he bragged, “At least I have women in my life who are worthy of listening to.”
The captain didn’t say a word, but jerked Sarah closer to him and growled, reminding us that he was the one with the hostage.
Wallace’s tone and expression quickly changed to that of someone I didn’t know: a teasing, cocky, barroom jackass. “What, you don’t have a woman? Even your own mother wants nothing to do with you? You have to pay the whores twice the rate, and still they balk. You can’t even get one to dance with you? You rob and pillage for months on end, yet can never get enough money for one to sleep with you?”
Now it was time for the captain to turn red. His mouth opened and shut, trying to find words to contradict the accusations, but “Shut up!” was all he managed to say. He shifted his weight, pulling Sarah up with him, clumsily getting to his feet. “Where’s your God now, little missy?” he snarled at me.
“Look! Ducks!” Wallace yelled and pointed to a totally empty area in the sky.
It was a totally irrational call, but the ploy worked. The captain dropped his guard, looked up, and Wallace dived in. He wrapped his body around Sarah and rolled away from the kidnapper, depositing her on the ground next to me and the dumbfounded sergeant.
Wallace stood up, casually brushed off his trousers with one hand, and brandished a shiny pistol with the other, turning it so the sunlight caught its barrel, but keeping it pointed at the captain’s chest.
The captain looked down and saw that he was missing his weapon. Wallace grinned at him, “Look familiar?” he asked as he turned it over in his hand. He had not only rescued Sarah, he had grabbed the pistol out of the man’s hand in the process.
“Not bad, not bad,” the captain replied with a nod of agreement. “But you always should have a backup,” he purred, then swiftly drew a pistol from the back of his waistband, and fired it right at Sarah.
I saw the intent of his movement and lunged out in front of her, my arms spread wide in the classic gesture of maternal protection.
The musket ball caught me in the left shoulder. I felt an explosion of fiery pain near my heart, and then my whole world was bright white light with no definition.
Ӂ Ӂ Ӂ
Wallace reached for Evie, and Jody went for his wife. “Get him!” Sarah shouted, pointing at Captain Asshole. She didn’t believe in killing people, but Sarah didn’t want to let her good-sister’s shooter—oh, God don’t let him be her assassin—go free. Jody scanned Sarah, made sure she was unhurt, and then joined Wallace in the pursuit of the assailant.
Captain Asshole didn’t have a chance of escaping. His four strides were Wallace’s two, and he was overtaken even before he had a chance to consider his destination. Wallace stopped right in front of him, blocking his escape. A second later, the sergeant joined them. The captain emitted a nervous laugh when he saw he was both outnumbered and out-weaponed.
“Here, I think this is yours,” Wallace said and handed the sergeant his pistol, never taking his eyes from his prisoner.
Captain Asshole studied his options. The pistol he had shot the healer with was spent; the sergeant had his own weapon back now, and was already heading back to his men. The big, red headed man was with the healer, tending to the sassy woman he had shot, and
the big sissy in front of him appeared to have dropped his dirk in the chase. No one could hurt him now; he was almost home free. He snorted and looked up at Wallace. “I don’t see how you could stand her. She was such a mouthy bitch…”
Wallace swept his boot out in front of him and took the feet right out from underneath the foul-mouthed fiend. The captain landed with a thud, flat on his back. Wallace stood above him, his foot held firmly on the culprit’s larynx. “You know, I could fix that rude language of yours. One crunch,” he pushed a quick pulse to the voice box, “and you’d never be able to talk, or even whisper, any of your curses or insults again. Or just a bit more pressure,” he applied substantially more pressure and held it there, “and your throat would swell shut. You’d die a slow and painful death. Asphyxiation is quite unpleasant, I hear.”
Wallace took his foot off the captain’s throat, and then offered him his hand. The captain looked at it suspiciously, but took it. Wallace pulled him up to his feet, and then quickly twisted his hand up behind his back, turning the captain’s arm around so severely that he bent forward, and was nearly standing on his head.
“You know, my fiancée was a very smart woman, and she said that what goes around, comes around.” Wallace yanked up so hard on the man’s splay-fingered hand that the captain squealed like a piglet and pissed his pants.
“Have mercy! Doesn’t your God say you should have mercy?” cried the teary, snot-faced, one-eared monster of a man.
“Aye, He does,” sighed Wallace, his shoulders slumped in resignation. “Sergeant, would you please tie up this man and get rid of him?”
As soon as Wallace loosened his grip, the captain snapped back into attack mode. He had hidden one of Sarah’s scalpels in his boot. He grabbed the razor-sharp implement and slashed at Wallace’s face, aiming for his eyes.
Wallace stepped back from the assault, untouched. “Mercy’s done, Asshole!” he growled, then shouted, “Manu Forti!” He brought up both fists and quickly spread them out, breaking his assailant’s forward attack. One quick uppercut and the scalpel flew into the air, landing far beyond either one’s reach. Jenny ran over, picked it up, and held on to it.
Naked in the Winter Wind Page 55