Rapscallion

CHAPTER 20

Pepper had been watching the farmhouse for a good fifteen minutes before there was any noticeable sign of movement. Letting the reins of his horse hang loose, he raised the telescope to his right eye.

A slight figure was making its way to the back door. Pepper recognized Thomas Gadd. There was no mistaking that limping gait. He wondered what was in the sack. It was bulging, so there was something wrapped within its folds. Game of some description, most likely. Pepper could see the gun in Gadd's hand.

He saw the dog get to its feet. Its tail began to wag and he watched as Gadd ruffled the animal's fur and led it into the house. The dog had been Pepper's main concern. He'd remembered it wasn't in the first flush of youth, but that didn't mean its sense of smell wasn't acute. Pepper and his men had taken pains to conceal themselves downwind, but breezes were fickle. They could change direction at any moment.

"What are we waiting for?" Seth Tyler spat into the dirt and fingered the butt of the pistol in his belt. "Are we going down there or not?"

"We go when I say we go," Pepper said, without moving the glass from his eye.

Tyler flushed at the put-down, made more potent by Pepper not even bothering to lower the telescope, but he knew better than to answer back.

The wounds on Tyler's face still pained him. Some of the shallower cuts had turned into scabs; the deeper ones remained tender and sore to the touch. Tyler's explanation that he'd sustained the scratches after falling into a patch of briars on his way back from the Duke's Head had been generally accepted, given his reputation as a man who liked a drink. He'd used the same story with Ezekiel Morgan and Cephus Pepper when he'd gone to pass on information about the two men Morgan was looking for.

Tyler's rage had been simmering since the day he'd been run off the farm, and his bitch of a sister-in-law had threatened to take the gun to him if he set foot on her land again. Who did she think she was? Leading him on with her sly glances and then turning all coy when he made his move. She wanted him; he knew she did. And she'd have to be craving it; her husband in the ground these past three years. The way Tyler saw it, he was doing her a favour. She ought to be bloody grateful. Instead, she'd come on all contrary and rejected him. And it was probably her doing that Annie had started acting up every time he tried to get her interested. He suspected Jessie was trying to turn her sister against him, and the thought of that made Tyler angrier still. She'd pay for all the trouble she'd caused him; he'd see to that.

And then came word that Ezekiel Morgan was willing to pay good money for information leading to the apprehension of two men. It had been the men's descriptions that had caused Tyler to sit up and take notice, for they matched those of the duo who'd given him a drubbing at Jess Flynn's farm. A chance meeting with Asa Higgs over a pint at the Blind Hog had revealed to Tyler that they were indeed the same men who'd been transported from the Flynn farm to the Haunt a few days previous. At this point, Tyler's ears had perked up. With those two on the run, Jess Flynn would be on her own at the farm.

Still smarting, and fortified by several measures of grog, Tyler had decided it was time to teach the cow a lesson. This time there would be no interference. But when he got there, he'd discovered Jess Flynn wasn't alone. The men were back. Or at least one of them was; the one who'd attacked him in the kitchen; the one with the accent. His companion, the tall one who'd wielded the besom to such murderous effect, was nowhere in sight. That didn't mean he wasn't around, but he'd not shown himself once during the time Tyler had stood spying on the farm from his vantage point at the edge of the wood. And then he'd watched Jess Flynn and the other man embrace, and the plot that had been fermenting in his brain reached fruition.

All it would take was one word to Morgan or Pepper and he'd be in Morgan's good books, he'd make himself some money, he'd have his revenge on at least one of his attackers, and he'd get the Widow Flynn all to himself.

And with McTurk and Croker out of the picture, Morgan would be looking for a new lieutenant. Tyler's opportunities were expanding by the minute. He hadn't been able to get to the Haunt quickly enough.

He heard Pepper sigh beside him. Tyler looked down towards the house. A man was leaving hurriedly by the back door.

Pepper peered through the glass.

"Well?" Tyler said, unable to keep the eagerness out of his voice. "Was I right or was I right?" He knew the answer already. It was the other bastard. He'd been at the farm all along.

The jangle of harness and the sound of teeth snapping down on bits came from the riders on either side of him. The others were growing restless; the horses as well.

A faint breeze touched the back of Pepper's neck. Not what we need, he thought, knowing what it meant.

Pepper watched the Runner pause and look back towards the top of the slope. He saw the dog raise its head. When he saw Hawkwood spin back towards the house, Pepper collapsed the telescope against his thigh. He consigned the spyglass to an inner pocket, took up the reins and urged his horse forward.

"Now," he said.

The dog's barking had already alerted the others, but it didn't prevent them from exhibiting varying degrees of disbelief as

Hawkwood stepped quickly back into the kitchen, dragging the dog by the scruff of the neck. The muzzle of the fowling piece wavered alarmingly. "What -?" Gadd began.

Hawkwood slammed the door shut and released the dog. "It's Pepper," he said. "They've found us."

He watched the shock explode across Lasseur's face. The privateer rose swiftly to his feet, drawing Jess Flynn to his side. She did not resist and neither Hawkwood nor Gadd moved to intercede.

"How many?" Lasseur asked.

"Eight, maybe ten," Hawkwood told them.

Lasseur absorbed the news. He looked thoughtful.

"Are you with us?" Hawkwood asked.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend, Matthew. Don't you know the saying?" There was no humour this time.

Hawkwood nodded. "So be it."

"Bloody hell!" Gadd said suddenly from the window. "It's Seth Tyler."

Jess Flynn's head came up. She gripped Lasseur's arm.

"I knew I should have killed him," Lasseur murmured. "Ten against two? Not good."

"Worse if we don't have any bloody weapons," Hawkwood said. He eyed the fowling piece. It wasn't enough.

"Ten against three," Gadd said, turning from the window and brandishing the gun. "Though I reckon having Seth Tyler on their side will be the same as them losing two good men." The seaman grinned. The scar made him look positively demonic.

"It's my fight too," Jess Flynn said.

Hawkwood shook his head. "It's not you Morgan wants."

"If Seth is out there, then it is my fight," Jess Flynn said. "HELLO, THE HOUSE!"

The shout came from the front.

"That's Pepper," Gadd said. "Reckon he must be vexed. He doesn't usually raise his voice. Sounds like they want to parley."

Hawkwood peered through the window, careful to stand sheltered by the wall at an angle to the glass.

The riders were arranged in a semi-circle twenty paces from the door.

Hawkwood turned to Lasseur. "Do you still have Croker's pistol?"

Lasseur nodded. "It's not loaded."

"They don't know that," Hawkwood said. "Hold on to the dog."

When he opened the door he did so cautiously, the pistol cocked and extended in front of him. Several of the men sat up straight in their saddles. Tyler was at the end of the line; Pepper was in the centre. Hawkwood stayed in the doorway and aimed the pistol at Pepper's chest. Pepper looked unconcerned by the imminent threat. Unarmed, he walked his horse forward a couple of paces.

"Constable," he said evenly.

"You're all under arrest," Hawkwood said. "If you get down from your horses and surrender your weapons, we'll say no more about it."

Pepper's mouth twitched.

Hawkwood shrugged. "It was worth a try. How's Mr Morgan?"

"Not happy. You've caused him a great deal of bother," Pepper said drily, eyeing the pistol. "He's anxious to make your re- acquaintance."

"I can imagine," Hawkwood said.

Pepper did not smile. "Didn't expect you'd end up back here. We thought you'd be across the water by now."

"How'd you find us?"

Pepper jerked his head. "Seth here told us he happened to be in the neighbourhood, thought he'd pay the widow a visit on account of they're related and saw Captain Lasseur loitering with intent. We figured you'd not be too far away." Pepper put his head on one side. "You all right, Constable? You know, you don't look too well."

"It's Officer to you, Pepper, and no, it's nothing serious. Just something I ate." Hawkwood looked along the line of men. "You've brought a lot of help. Worried about coming on your own?"

"Best to be prepared," Pepper said.

"And I suppose you'd like me to give myself up?"

"Got it in one," Pepper said. "Captain Lasseur as well, if it's not too much trouble."

"You know, that's what I miss about you, Pepper: your sparkling wit."

"It'll go badly for you if you don't."

"I suspect it'll go badly for us if we do," Hawkwood said.

"True, but then the Widow Flynn and the old man get to walk away."

The inference was clear.

"I thought Morgan didn't make war on women," Hawkwood said.

"Sometimes he's willing to make an exception. You want time to think about it?"

"No," Jess Flynn said. "We don't."

A look of surprise began to fan across Pepper's face, then the air was ruptured by the blast of a gun behind Hawkwood's right ear. He stood transfixed as every horse started in fear and Seth Tyler, arms outflung, mouth forming a perfect oval, was catapulted backwards. As Tyler's corpse landed among the herbs, the remaining horsemen scattered, drawing weapons. Pepper, showing commendable dexterity for a one-armed man, wheeled his horse about as Hawkwood threw himself through the open door, dragging Jess Flynn and the rifle with him. He heard a chorus of sharp reports and the sound of the balls striking the wall behind him. Somewhere a window shattered, the noise sounding as if it might have come from upstairs. The dog began to bark.

Lasseur kicked the door shut.

"Looks like the parley's over," Gadd muttered sardonically.

Hawkwood handed the pistol back to Lasseur and took the rifle from Jess Flynn's shaking hands. It was a beautiful gun; a double-barrelled Manton with grooved barrels. Not a light weapon by any means, yet she had wielded it well and clearly hit what she'd aimed at. He remembered then her threat to Tyler.

"Rab, hush!" Jess Flynn called the agitated dog to her.

"Tom's right, Jess," Hawkwood said. "You killing Tyler means Pepper's through talking. He's got nowhere else to go."

"You certainly did for the bugger," Gadd said, peering out of the window. "Can't see the others, though."

"They're there," Hawkwood said. "They'll be coming." He suspected Pepper and his crew had found sanctuary behind the barn.

"Let them." Jess Flynn raised her chin defiantly, though her face was pale. She stroked the dog's head. It began to quieten. The barks turned to deep growls.

"Four against nine," Lasseur said. "That evens it up." He stretched out his left arm and Jess Flynn moved into his embrace and rested her head on his shoulder. The dog, still restless, prowled the room.

"You any good with that?" Hawkwood nodded to the fowling piece.

Gadd grinned. "Got those two coneys, didn't I?"

"Rabbits don't shoot back," Hawkwood said. He held out the Manton. "Do you have any more ammunition for the rifle?"

She moved away from Lasseur's embrace. "Only what's in the second barrel."

Hawkwood felt his heart sink. "Tom, what about you? Any refills for the Mortimer? What about powder and shot?"

"I've powder. Only a few shot though. Not enough for all them -" Gadd nodded towards the window.

Better than nothing, Hawkwood thought. But not by much. "What's the bore?"

"She's only light. Twenty."

Be thankful for small mercies, Hawkwood murmured to himself. "Then they'll fit the pistol. We can divide the powder and shot between yourself and Captain Lasseur."

He turned to Jess Flynn. "Are there any other weapons in the house?"

"There's a pistol. It was Jack's. He brought it back from the navy." She pointed to the dresser in the corner.

Hawkwood went to investigate. The pistol was in a drawer next to a small flask of powder and some squares of cotton wadding. The gun was military issue. It was in good condition though it didn't appear to have been oiled in a while. He found tools for making ammunition but there was no lead or spare shot. Theoretically, since it was a larger bore than the Mortimer, it would take the smaller ball, provided more wadding was added. Failing that, it could always be used as a club in the last resort, Hawkwood supposed.

"No other guns?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Then we'll make do with these," Hawkwood said.

While Jess and Tom Gadd kept watch, Hawkwood and Lasseur attended to the guns at the kitchen table. The fowling piece was already loaded, and there was enough ammunition for an additional five shots between them. As Hawkwood had expected, the balls cast for the fowling piece were of a smaller bore than the service pistol. Hawkwood compensated by wrapping one of the balls in a thick wad of cotton. When he used the rod to ram the ball down the pistol's barrel it felt tight enough, but there was no way of knowing if it would be effective when the trigger was pulled. He would just have to make sure the target was close enough to be certain of his shot. They divided the remaining ammunition between them.

Hawkwood considered the layout of the house. The downstairs was effectively one large space divided in two by a central chimney breast which effectively formed the wall between kitchen and parlour. Each room had one window facing the front of the house and one facing the rear. There were two ground-floor entrances: the front door, which led into the parlour and the stairs to the upper floor, and the back door, which opened into the kitchen.

"We should barricade the front door," Hawkwood said.

"What about the windows?" Lasseur asked.

"We need to see them coming, but we don't have enough guns to cover all points so we'll block one off. The front window in the kitchen will be the easiest." Hawkwood pointed to the nearby dresser. It was almost six feet tall. "We can use that."

"It seems to me you've done this before," Lasseur said as they manoeuvred the dresser across the floor. The room darkened immediately as the light from outside was obscured.

"Once or twice. Sometimes I've been the one trying to get in."

They moved to the parlour, upended the settee and propped it against the front door. They used the long-cased clock to obscure half of the parlour window at the front. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

"We need a redoubt," Hawkwood said. "Somewhere to make a stand."

"Don't like the sound of that," Gadd said.

"There are more of them than there are of us, and I'm guessing they're a lot better armed. They're going to get in, sooner or later." Hawkwood indicated the kitchen table. "We can retreat to the pantry and block off the door with the table to restrict their access point. Maybe we can use the cellar as a last resort. Does it have another entrance?"

"No."

"Then we'll deal with that problem when we come to it."

They up-ended the table and laid it lengthways in front of the pantry door. As a place to make a last stand, it was wretched. Hawkwood knew that, if Pepper and his men got into the house, a kitchen table wasn't going to alter the outcome.

"We could always give ourselves up," Lasseur offered, reading his mind.

"No," Jess Flynn said. "It's too late for that."

Hawkwood knew she was thinking of Tyler.

"I'll take the Manton, Jess," Hawkwood said. "You take the pistol. We've still got one shot left with the rifle. I want to make it count before they get too close."

No sooner had he spoken than there was a bang from outside and the rear kitchen window shattered.

Everyone ducked. No one was hit.

"They're probably trying to draw fire," Hawkwood said. "Let them waste ammunition." He looked down at the dog. "Put Rab in the pantry, Jess. We don't want him to get in the way."

Hawkwood waited until the animal had been removed, then

he picked up the rifle. "To your places. The second you realize you can't hold your position, fall back to the redoubt."

From the corner of his eye, Hawkwood saw movement out of the window.

"Here they come," he said.

Pepper peered round the corner of the barn. He could see Tyler's body in the dirt in front of the house. He looked for Tyler's horse and spotted it in the field where it was grazing contentedly, having bolted from the scene, oblivious to the carnage.

Tyler's death had come as a shock - and not just to Tyler. It was clear from his reaction that the Runner, Hawkwood, had also been taken by surprise. Pepper didn't think it was a lucky shot either. The woman had been deliberate in her aim. Her calmness and the cadence in her voice when she'd pulled the trigger had been proof of that. Pepper wondered what had led Jess Flynn to kill her own brother-in-law in cold blood.

He'd been intrigued by Tyler's request as they'd ridden from the trees: Leave the woman to me. It sounded as if Tyler had been harbouring some kind of vendetta against the Widow Flynn. Jess Flynn's uncompromising declaration of hostilities had confirmed that the ill feeling was mutual. Whatever her motive, by killing Tyler she had aligned herself with the two men Pepper and his crew had been sent to eradicate. Knowing Thomas Gadd's history with the late Jack Flynn, Pepper felt it was safe to assume that Gadd, too, had chosen sides. It was just as well he'd brought the number of men he had. Which brought him full circle back to Tyler. Pepper had never liked the man. He'd long considered Tyler to be a liability. So he did not feel bereaved by his death, only inconvenienced at being a man down so soon.

A shot rang out. Pepper heard a window break.

"Hold your fire!" he called. They were too far out of range for a pistol to do effective damage.

He was suddenly aware that his left arm had developed a ferocious itch. He reached to scratch it and then remembered there wasn't anything there to scratch. It had been ten years