The two men looked at each other and then back toward the sound of the approaching, baying hounds.
“Bullocks! What the ‘ell do we do now?”
“Courage, M’lad. We can still do the work ‘o the mighty if we’re quick about it! ‘Tis no one here but her. Go find that lord bastard! Shoot ‘im down like a dog and I’ll do her for six!”
“Aye!”
“Go! Go!”
The man with the gun ran off into the ruins toward Lord Bradford while the other man ran toward where he last saw Lady Whitworth running in the grass.
“Where are ye?” He said, kicking the bushes as he went. “Where are ye hiding? Come on out now. Come out. Come on out – an’ we’ll let you and your father go. Aye – that we will. I promise. Come on out now M’Lady. Come out.”
Off just ahead, there was a set of black boots in the long, tall grass and he smiled. Crouching slightly, he moved forward with his left hand outstretched. Suddenly, there was a huge crashing sound from the forest and Jessie came out with Mara riding their mounts. Their horse’s hooves thundered loudly over the open green grassy meadow in a full gallop.
“Gobshite!” The man said as he reached forward and pulled Lady Whitworth up by the collar of her riding habit. She cried out and flailed about as he lifted her up off her feet putting her into a chokehold in front of him. Her face turned red as she struggled with him, choking loudly.
“Let go of her!” Mara shouted as they charged him.
“Leave her be!” Jessie reined in her horse and rode sideways pushing them both toward Mara. Jessie’s horse neighed loudly.
“Aye – I’ll leave ‘er be! I’ll snap her neck! That’s what I’ll do. Then, I’ll do ye two pea-hens just like ‘er! I swear it! Back off! Back off your bloody horses!”
Mara and Jessie circled them warily. Lulabelle snorted and tossed her head as the man turned toward her, holding the gasping Whitworth up in front of him. Jessie hooked her boot in the stirrup and leaned way out to the side like she did in the rodeo and pulled the man’s hair up hard from behind, gritting her teeth. He reached up with his hand, taking it off Whitworth’s windpipe as Whitworth stomped the heel of her boot on the man’s foot and Mara hit his face with her crop.
***
The man with the gun slowly made his way through the darkened ruins of the old Norman castle, holding his pistol out ahead of him. Everything now depended on killing Lord Bradford and getting away with it quick enough before anyone saw his face. He pulled the black ski mask down tighter, so that only his eyes showed though a narrow slit. He stopped for a moment listening for the hounds who sounded as if they were closer now.
Just off to his left he heard a small clattering of bricks and stone as if someone were walking over uncertain footing in the rubble. He turned to look, but then to his right, Bradford leapt out from behind a wall with a cry and grabbed the man’s wrist holding the gun.
“Run, Little Girl!” He shouted. “Run and hide yourself!” In a desperate struggle, Bradford grappled with the man dressed in black. He planted his feet, and with all his strength shoved the man hard against the old brick wall. He held the wrist with both hands and hit it hard twice against the wall, trying to knock the gun out of his hand, but the other man was younger and stronger, so Lord Bradford was no match for him. He punched Bradford hard in the face and the old man sprawled backward onto the dark grey brick and mortar rubble. Bradford sat up dazed as the man with the gun smiled and pointed it up into the air.
“Aye and now, M’Lord, finally?” His face lit up with the evil grin of a terrorist about to fulfill his hate-filled mission as he brought the gun down and levelled it straight at Bradford’s head. “The wee people of the shire shall have their vengeance at last!”
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 at www.aperrinauthor.com.
Leave a Reply