by Tony Roberts
Michael agreed and took him to the O’Driscoll farm where Case was holed up into the barn. Michael rode the wagon into the building so no prying eyes could see Case jump out of the back of the wagon from underneath the blanket and climb the ladder to the loft. He lay down with a sigh and slipped into unconsciousness within a few minutes; he was that tired.
Soft hands and a sound of soft weeping brought him round. He looked around in confusion and found a soft female body clinging to him, long dark hair covering his chest and shoulders. He knew who it was right away. “Ah, Miss Ann, is there nowhere I’m safe to go without you finding me?”
Ann raised her tear-stained face to look at him. “Ye bloody fool! I thought ye dead!”
Case was about to say something but somehow the words didn’t come, and he admitted it would have been difficult anyway with his mouth being captured by hers. She kissed him long and ardently. Case knew his body was aching to respond but dammit, she was shortly to be a bride and he couldn’t get involved now! He managed to push her back and sighed as her face showed hurt. He shook his head and held her tight at the limit of his arms’ lengths. “Ann, Ann, Ann. You’re going to be married in five days; I’m not your husband to be, Sean Brady is. He’s the man you should be directing such passion to.”
Ann wept, tears rolling down her face. “I want ye, don’t ye realize that?” she said through the tears. “I love ye, I want ye. I will marry Sean, he’s a good man, but in my heart it’s ye that I love. I can’t help it, and I know ye want me, don’t ye?”
Case shut his eyes and let go of her. He sank back on the hay and felt utterly drained. “Yes Ann, I do. But it wouldn’t be right, not now. You know that too. How would you look Sean in the eye and live a lie to him for the rest of your life? You’re not that type of woman. Me, well heck, I could have you, your mother and a dozen women in Lynchburg and not worry. I’ve loved more women than you’ll ever know, but none of them have ever lasted, and neither would you. I’d be a passing love and then I’d be gone. With Sean you’ll have a proper married life and children to enjoy. You’d have none of that with me. I’d be off fighting some war before long.”
Ann took hold of one of Case’s hands and sat alongside him. “But I’d love ye, even if it was for a short while. When ye didn’t meet us in town yesterday I feared the worst, given what ye’d said before. I didn’t sleep last night. And then Michael came and told me a short while ago and it felt as though my life had been given back!”
“He should have said nothing,” Case said, annoyed he’d been disobeyed. “Who else has he told?”
“No-one.” Ann shook her head emphatically. “He told me because he knew I’d not want to marry Sean if I thought ye dead.”
“Oh crap,” Case groaned, “does Sean know of your feelings?”
“No. Michael’s with him now, planning to take care of those horrible German brothers. While they’re making their plans, I’m to look after ye.”
“Listen to me Ann, please.” Case stared into her eyes, wishing to emphasize what he wanted to get across to the woman. “You do not have to worry about me. Remember the gunshot wound I had? Well, I’m recovering just as quickly from this wound, see?” and he pulled down the blanket to reveal the ugly red scar in his chest, now closed and healing nicely.
Ann looked at his wound, then at him in surprise. “Michael said….”
“He didn’t check how bad the wound was. My shirt was a mess but that’s only because I bled a fair bit. As you can see, the wound isn’t too bad and I’ll be up and about in a day or so. Fit in fact to give you away at your wedding. Okay?”
“Well,” she hesitated. Then, making her mind up, nodded, a smile on her face. Case grinned and wiped the wetness on her cheeks away. Ann pressed her cheek to his hand. “I’ll be a good wife to Sean Brady, but I’ll always hold love for ye in my heart. Now let me clean that scabby wound and I’ll let ye be, ye stubborn man.”
“Do me a favor Ann; please don’t tell anyone else I’m still alive. Whitby wants me dead and thinks I am. Once the Schwarz brothers are taken care of I’ll deal with that snake. Then you can tell your mother and sisters and Patrick, alright?”
“Well, only if ye agree to sort this out once and for all in the next day or two. I don’t want anyone upset during my wedding; ye hear me, Case Lonnergan?”
Case rolled his eyes. “God, woman! Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing that poor man Brady a disservice, letting him marry you!”
Ann slapped his arm. “Oh, away with ye, Case Lonnergan! Every man needs a good woman to sort him out.”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” Case said gloomily, and got a second slap.
She then made him drink some water and he felt better after that. She promised next time she came along she’d bring him some food.
Later that day after Ann had gone, Michael returned smiling. He was followed by Sean who looked surprised to see Case, then smiled widely. Patrick McGuire completed the trio and yelped in delight. Case was recovered enough to take the hug, and stood up. “Well?”
“Well,” Michael grinned, and slapped Sean on the shoulder. “It worked beautifully. They did try to corner Sean, but me and Pat were waiting with our guns. Once they were held up at gunpoint we walked them back to their place and marched them into their folks and told them what was going on. You should have seen the old bugger’s face! Old Man Schwarz actually beat them with his stick!” The three laughed at the memory.
“And what came of it?” Case was pleased the strategy of telling the old man had worked.
“He promised no more stealing, no more beating up. And best of all, he promised that if Whitby and his mob caused any trouble he’d get the sheriff to arrest them. Old Man Schwarz is a bad bugger but at least he has some honor.”
“Okay; that’s one problem sorted out. I just hope his sons keep their word.”
“Oh, that they will,” Sean said. “I’ve invited them to the wedding. Old Man Schwarz jumped at the chance.”
“Good idea! Keep in with your neighbors and it helps keep any problems down. Well, now to sort out that swine Whitby.”
And three men stood closer, guns in hands, waiting to hear what Case had in mind.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Four men. Four men with one thing in mind. Whitby had to die, together with his gang, who were holed up in Lynchburg in the narrow alleyways close to the James River. Old Man Schwarz had provided the location after demanding it from his sons. Schwarz senior had damned his three offspring for associating with such a brigand and the crestfallen trio had promised never to see Whitby again.
If Case had his way, neither would anyone else.
Night was upon them and the wedding three days off. Whitby was awaiting news of the Schwarz boys’ action on Sean Brady. Once he’d received news that Sean was out of the running Whitby would go to the McGuires with his gang and take the girls and kill Patrick and Mary. The girls would end up servicing the less than desirable elements of society in Whitby’s place, and the money he’d make would finance his new kingdom in Virginia. He’d done more or less the same in Philadelphia until Case had messed things up there.
This time, so Whitby thought, there was nobody to stop him. A message had been sent to Whitby informing him Sean was so badly beaten up he’d probably never walk again. He was ready to act.
The four men had selected a suitable ambush point on the road from Lynchburg. Trees stood on either side, offering cover and concealment with a clear view down the road towards town. There was a sliver of moon out, enough to make things visible, and the shadows cast by the undergrowth and trees hid the four totally. Case was with Patrick on one side while Sean and Michael were on the other. Case had his colt once again while Patrick had a shotgun. The shotgun was really to scare crows off and was loaded with birdshot, but it would do at close quarters.
The other two had shoulder arms, muskets they’d appropriated from somewhere.
Patrick fidgeted nervously, peering anxiously down the road
. It was a dirt track, rutted from the many wagon wheels that had come and gone over the years, but currently was firm enough to walk on without getting too muddy. Case saw the young man’s nervousness and remembered his first action; he’d felt the same.
“It’s the waiting that’s the worst,” he murmured.
Patrick swung his head round sharply at the sound of Case’s voice, then nodded, swallowing. “We really going to kill them, Case?”
“Aye. No choice, Pat. They’re evil people, and they want your three sisters to make them money. They’ll enslave them and make them do things they don’t want to do, and they’ll kill you and your ma because you’re in the way and they don’t want you stopping them.” Case looked down the clear road again. “People like that don’t deserve a chance because you give them one and they’ll use it to hurt people for kicks.”
“I don’t know if I can shoot a man, Case.”
“There are times when you have to.” Case’s eyes unfocussed and his mind drifted. He briefly saw flash before him a wild, savage barbarian warrior whirling a huge sword above his head, intending to bring it down on Case’s – or as he’d been then, Casca Rufio Longinus’ – head, and he’d stabbed up with his gladius iberius and felt terror as the blade sank into the German’s guts, sending a hot spurt of blood over his fist and arm. “If you don’t then you get killed. Simple, really. But in this case I understand what you mean. You just keep in cover and leave it to the rest of us to deal with. Just watch my back.”
Patrick nodded, his face covered in sweat. His eyes were wide with fear and he stepped back a pace behind one of the thicker trees and knelt down. Case suddenly stiffened, a movement down the road had caught his attention. He whistled low and Sean stuck his head up on the other side and followed Case’s pointing finger. He nodded and eased back the hammer on his musket, slowly leveling it. A second barrel appeared a few feet away. Michael wouldn’t baulk at shooting Whitby or any of his group.
Case cocked his colt and rested the revolver across his other arm. Six riders were coming up the road, riding easily, confident. They had no coverings over their faces but they all had neckerchiefs around their throats, ready to pull up to obscure their identities. There was no mistaking the one-handed riding style of one of the leading duo. His hook gave him away.
Case aimed carefully, the night making it difficult and he knew he’d have to wait until they were almost upon him to be sure of making a hit. They were perhaps twenty yards away when both Michael and Sean fired, shattering the night air. One man pitched back up off his horse, struck by two musket balls. His horse reared in fright and the others stopped, trying to control their mounts. Case cursed and loosed off a shot, aiming at Whitby who was wheeling round hurriedly. The bullet missed him and smashed into another behind him, blowing apart his elbow.
The scream of the wounded man brought the riders out of their shock and guns appeared in their hands. “Down!” Case snapped to Patrick and ducked. A fusillade of shots smashed into the trees and undergrowth. They were using pistols and had a greater rate of fire than the ambushers. Case should have instructed the two to pick separate targets; he forgot they weren’t drilled in martial abilities.
Two of the gang were blasting away at the spot that Michael and Sean were hiding in while the two others, Whitby included, were shooting at where Case had fired from. Chips of tree spun past him as another bullet struck close to his head. Patrick was curled up in terror, his shotgun gripped tightly in his hands. Case shot back twice, attempting to make the riders take cover. One bullet nearly took Whitby out, and the gang leader cursed and waved at the other man with him to circle the ambushers.
The man jumped off his horse, pistol in hand, and scrambled up off the road and into the field beyond the roadside shrubbery.
Meanwhile both Sean and Michael had reloaded and fired again, both virtually simultaneously. Both shots missed but they did compel the two facing them to dive for cover. The horses galloped back down the road a little way, away from the frightening noises. Whitby, conscious he was the biggest target as he was the only one left on horseback, snarled. “They got muskets you idiots! Go get them afore they reload!”
The two men jumped up and, firing as they went, rushed the undergrowth. That was their mistake as they forgot there might be other weapons in use, and both Sean and Michael had knives. The attackers blundered into the undergrowth and two blades flashed. The sound of screams and groans ended as suddenly as it began.
Case peered down the road and saw Whitby struggling to both hold his pistol and control his horse. It presented a target too good to miss and he took aim.
“Look out!” Patrick cried.
Case ducked back in a reflex moment and the shot intended for his head blew chunks out of the tree next to him. Hartley, the man who had circled round to outflank them, cursed and aimed again. Patrick loosed off the shotgun and a cloud of buckshot blasted into the man. Hartley screamed, and was slammed back against the tree behind him, his shirt a mess. But he was still alive and leveled the gun. Case fired, his mind cold and clear, and Hartley’s forehead vanished in an explosion of blood, bone and brain, decorating the tree trunk.
Aware that Patrick was retching behind him, Case sprang into the road and aimed at Whitby who had managed to turn his horse round and had the reins in one good hand. He stared at Case who seemed to fill the roadway. “You’re dead!” he said with disbelief.
“As you can see, that’s a lie. Your men are all dead, you bastard, and now you follow them.” He pointed at Whitby who ducked forward, and the bullet passed close to his head. Case cursed and stopped trying to be cute and aimed to wound instead, pointing at Whitby’s stomach.
Whitby pulled the horse round and galloped off into the darkness. Case squeezed the trigger but all he got was a click. Empty. Sean and Michael emerged and ran after the hooked man but Whitby easily outdistanced the two farmer boys, shooting wildly as he ran. The two stopped, knowing the chase was futile, and returned to the ambush scene.
The first man they’d hit was dead, his guts splattered over the road, and the one Case had hit in the elbow was lying on the roadside, holding his shattered elbow, groaning weakly. They gathered round him and regarded the man dispassionately. “What do we do with him?” Patrick asked, his face still white.
“Let him go,” Case rumbled. “He’s no good like that. Give him a horse and let him ride back to town. He’ll probably lose that arm unless there’s a damned good surgeon in Lynchburg.”
“And the other horses?” Sean pointed at the five mounts scattered around the scene. Most were grazing now the excitement had died down.
“Well, they ain’t going to use them, are they?”
The three grinned and rounded up the horses. Case walked back to the corpse of Hartley. He wasn’t a pretty sight, with most of his head gone. “We’ll bury these four. I doubt anyone will miss them. Come on, let’s put them on the horses and take them somewhere secluded and bury the bastards. Then we can go home and enjoy well-earned sleep.”
Patrick was shivering now the reaction was setting in, and Case took the shotgun off him and gently led him alongside. “Thanks for the warning back there, Pat. Saved me from a nasty situation. Good shot too.”
“Oh God, I was wetting myself! It was horrible, seeing that man’s face like that!” He shook again.
“It was yes,” Case agreed. “But he would have shot me then you. And he wouldn’t have thought twice about it. That was the swine who knifed me in Lynchburg, by the way, so he got all he deserved. And he was the one if you remember who told Whitby about the poor house back in Philadelphia, so he’s got the blood of all those children on his hands. Now let’s go home.”
Patrick nodded and trooped after Case, his face tired and drawn.
The wedding took place that weekend and Case, as promised, gave Ann away. She was the focus of attention, beautifully attired in the floor-length dress Mary had made. It was white, of course, and she had spring flowers in her hair. Case kept his
face straight during the Catholic ceremony; the priest’s Latin was atrocious and in Case’s day in the legions would have been laughed away as being that of a provincial peasant.
Still, it made Case nostalgic for the old days of Rome when Latin was the language spoken by everyone. Now it seemed, English was the tongue to speak, what with the land grabbing the British were undertaking, and their legacy lived on in the United States.
Afterwards they held a party at the farmhouse and Sean was welcomed to the McGuire farmstead. Old Man Brady welcomed Ann into his family and things were going a treat, but Case noticed Bridget was missing, as was one of the Schwarz brothers, Hans. He ambled out idly, on the pretense of getting another bite to eat, then began searching the place. He got to the barn and heard noises and crept into the building. There, lying in the hay, were the two missing people. Bridget was lying on her back, legs wide open, moaning as Hans pounded into her, his trousers around his ankles.
Case waited until Hans began to drive in faster, before picking up a handy pitchfork and jabbing the prongs into the German’s buttocks. Hans yelped and stopped, twisting round in surprise. His face darkened in anger as Case stood there, pitchfork in hand. “Why don’t you fuck off until I’ve finished?” he snarled.
“Leave her alone you ugly warthog,” Case replied, his eyes icy. Bridget was only faintly aware something was wrong, groaning for satisfaction. Case shook his head; she was always going to be trouble.
Hans stood up and pulled up his trousers, fixing the braces over his shoulders. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and stepped towards Case, his teeth bared. “So you interfere with my pleasure as well? I don’t like that. In fact, I don’t like you.”
“Well I’m happy about that,” Case said and tossed the pitchfork aside. “It’s about time you were taught you can’t do as you please; there’s rules to follow.”
“Fuck you,” Hans said and swung a fist. It was a hefty blow and would have knocked most men out, but Case slapped it aside and rammed a fist into the German’s guts. Hans gasped but although he staggered back a step, remained on his feet. Hell, here’s one tough customer, Case thought. Beyond Hans, Bridget was beginning to be aware of what was going on and had sat up, rearranging her skirt, watching the two men in fascinated horror.
