Brent’s lariat whistled through the air from behind and looped down over the man’s shoulders just above the elbows. Brent jerked him backward and pulled him off his feet. He wrapped the other end around his saddle horn and pulled on the reins. Chester backed up dragging the man over the rubble who cried out loudly and the gun went off, sending the bullet up high into the air. He still tried to aim the gun at Bradford but couldn’t point it at either him or Brent. Bradford sat up and just looked at Brent open-mouthed in amazement.
Jake galloped up and reined in hard making his horse rear up just above the man on the ground. The horse kicked his hooves out in front of him as if he were about to stomp down on him, and the man closed his eyes. At the last moment, Jake pulled off to the side and the hooves just missed trampling him in the grass. Jake jumped off grabbing the gun and threw it off into the bushes, as Brent threw the other end of the rope to Jake. Jake reached down and in one swift motion flipped him over on his stomach tying the rope around his ankles. He then drew his feet tightly together, hog-tying them back to his wrists. Jake stood up and lifted his hands up high above his head and grinned as if he were in a rodeo steer roping competition. Brent cheered.
“Twenty seconds, Jake!” He applauded. “A new goldurned world record!”
The man squirmed and fought against the ropes. “Untie me!” He shouted. “Let me loose ye bloody American idiots!”
Bradford stood up painfully and limped over to Jake. He put his hand on Jake’s shoulder and shook his hand. “You saved my life, Sir,” he said. “I thank you.” He looked at Brent who still sat in the saddle. “I thank you both. You have my deepest lifelong gratitude.” He looked down at the man at their feet who gasped angrily and struggled with the rope around his hands and feet. “I dare say that is the most astonishing show of horsemanship I have ever witnessed in my life. Now, who might you be?” He asked as he pulled off the black ski mask.
It was Rutledge.
“Hmph.” Jake grunted with his hands folded across his chest. “Well, what do you know about that? It’s always the durned butler.”
Mara and Jessie suddenly arrived with Lady Whitworth seated behind Jessie. Mara jumped down out of her saddle and stared down at Rutledge angrily for a moment, with her hands on her hips. She snatched the black ski mask out of Bradford’s hand and roughly put it back on Rutledge backwards so he couldn’t see. She kicked him.
“Now who’s sacked?” She asked.
Jake laughed uproariously, leaning against his horse. Everyone stared at him as if he were crazy, but then Jessie snickered and Mara joined in. Soon everyone was laughing hard – except for Rutledge.
Off a short distance in the woods, a motorcycle started up and roared off.
“Oh no!” Lady Whitworth turned toward the sound. “There he goes – that other evil man!” She rubbed her throat. “He shall escape justice.”
“Nay M’Lady,” McLynn rode up. “He won’t get far. I can assure ye.”
“How can you be so certain?” Bradford looked up at him. “There are many wooded glens and warrens all over this estate where he can easily hide that motorbike and slink away.”
“Aye, there are.” McLynn dismounted. “But naught without petrol he won’t. I just now drained the fuel out ‘o the tank and rubbed that fox-urine rag all o’er his seat.” He laughed and jerked his thumb back over his shoulder to the sound of the foxhounds behind him. “Ye can hear now how they’ve picked up the bonny trail so even if that rouge runs out o’ petrol he’ll lead the whole bleedin’ pack on a merry chase by the seat ‘o his smelly pants. He can no’ hide from them!”
Everyone roared with laughter.
This is the prequel to my previous unpublished manuscript: Duncan Little. This is about his parents and how they met. Come back each week on Thursday for another installment. You can actually read it as I’m writing it. You can also read my other books above.
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