Gunpowder & Gold (Justified Treason, Book 4): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories

by Cristi Taijeron

  “I am surprised Sterling hasn’t killed him yet.” Mary looked at me as if she could see the dangerous emotions I was battling.

  Throwing down my winning hand, I joked, “I think their abhorrence for me at the time bonded them together. But truly, Sterling sincerely likes him as a friend and respects him as a valued member of the crew. Everyone who meets the fellow likes him.”

  Glancing towards the ridiculously handsome master sailor, Mary sighed. “I haven’t even met him, but I like him, too.”

  Drink after drink, Mary and I played game after game, talking and giggling like we had never spent a day apart. Knowing I could trust her with my heart, my secrets, and my life, I leaned in close to talk to her about something Sterling would never want me relaying. “The other night we ran into a drunk man who claims to have seen Sterling’s father in Port Royal. Sterling doesn’t want to talk about it but I can’t stop thinking of the possibilities.”

  Mary squinted. “How drunk was this man?”

  “He was hardly able to stand up straight and his words were all slurred. Sterling got mad and didn’t believe it one bit, but it got me thinking. Sterling doesn’t talk about the last time he saw his father, but the few things I know make me believe he could have lived that day.”

  “Wouldn’t that be something?” Mary’s grey-blue eyes widened. “You know, something quite similar happened with one of my uncles in Ireland. We heard he was beaten to death during a bar fight. Without a body to lay to rest, we dug a grave next to my grandfather’s and buried his favorite hat. A few years later he showed up on my father’s doorstep, alive as could be. Turns out he had survived the fight, but the authorities had locked him in jail.”

  “See! Mason could have lived. The man who saw him said he looked beaten and old. Maybe he was taken as a prisoner and finally escaped. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

  “There is nothing wonderful about Spanish prison.” Mary shook her head. “I reckon most blokes who have been locked behind their bars or weighted by the chains of their slavery would rather be dead. Plus, those Dons would never release such a powerful prisoner, and breaking loose would be nearly impossible. The likes of him being alive and free in Port Royal are ridiculously slim.”

  My hope deflated. “I suppose you’re right. Sterling hasn’t said another word about it, and with all that in mind, I reckon its best that I quit thinking about it as well.”

  “I hate to be a dream crusher, Charlie, but we are not princesses living a fairytale. We are filthy rotten pirates who party like devils during our short lives to compensate for our most certain, early and unhappy endings.”

  We rang our glasses together, toasting to the truth in her statement.

  After swallowing her drink, Mary tossed her cards at me. “Speaking of shitty endings. I am never playing cards with you again.”

  Letting out a dramatically sinister laugh, I packed my winnings away in my duffle. “We should get going before Flynn and Bentley come to burn down the town in search of us.”

  “Good idea.” Mary finished the last of her rum and stood up.

  Waving goodbye to Peggy and Billy, we headed out of the bar.

  While walking down the main street, we came upon a terrible fistfight. Nearly being knocked over by the crowd surrounding the raging brawl, we decided to slip through the alleyway to avoid the chaos. The sound of a gunshot helped to quicken our pace.

  “Sometimes I still hate this place,” I said as we hurried along. My discomfort heightened when I noticed that a group of men had followed us into the alley. Grabbing Mary’s arm I whispered, “I think we are being stalked.”

  Peering over her shoulder, Mary grumbled, “Shit. There’s six of them.”

  Though they were attempting to look casual, the determination in their stride was too obvious to hide.

  “We’re going to have to stop them before they get too close,” Mary said, then she lowered her arm, signaling Pablo to fly off of her shoulder.

  Once Pablo had flown to safety, we turned to face them, pistols drawn.

  Looking stunned by the sight of our guns, they each pulled their own. Amidst the threatening impasse, I saw Harold—the son of a bitch who hated sailing under my command—standing in the opposing group.

  “What the hell is this, Harold?” I tilted my aimed gun in his direction.

  “Ah, don’t worry, bitch. You’re nothing more than a pretty little pawn we’ll be using to get to Bentley.”

  “What do you want with him?” I growled, hatred seething through my teeth.

  “Don’t worry about it. All you have to do for now is shut your flapping slut lips and surrender yourself.” He took a step closer. His gangly group followed suit.

  Heavily outnumbered, Mary and I stood shoulder to shoulder as they drew near. Their footsteps seemed absurdly loud over the sound of my own rapid heartbeat. The sight of their ugly faces seemed extra ghastly in the dim torchlight that shone from around the corner. Knowing they wanted me alive, I stepped in front of Mary and warned, “Stand down.”

  Harold growled. “Your little poppet boy Bentley might obey your bird-chirping orders, but not me, lassie, not me.”

  Enraged by his insult to Sterling, and infuriated by his resistance to my command, I made up my mind. He may have gotten the better of me last time we had it out, but I refused to let that happen ever again.

  I fired my gun.

  It seemed like a lifetime passed before the musket ball expelled from the barrel. In the slow motion the world was suddenly turning in, I watched panic cross their faces. Before anyone gathered the sense to react, Harold fell to the ground, grabbing the hole in his gut where my bullet had ripped through.

  Amidst my own surge of energy, I had not noticed that Mary fired right after I did. Her bullet hit another man square in the forehead. Before the next man in line could defend his fallen mates, Mary threw a knife into his neck.

  Shrieking about their strict orders to keep Bentley’s Black Rose alive, the other three men ran.

  “Wait for us, Bill!” the slower two screamed like scared little lassies.

  Shocked by their cowardice, I looked at Mary. “Should we stop them?”

  She responded to my question by throwing another dagger at the fleeing men. The blade landed hard in one man’s back. As he screeched out in pain, I fired my second pistol at the other. The bullet struck his leg just before they rounded the corner. Bill was brave enough to fire at us, but his bullet only lodged into the wooden door behind us before he scampered away as well.

  Noticing that Harold was still alive—groaning as he bled all over the shit and piss-covered ground—I grabbed the treasonous rat by his hair. “Who sent you?”

  “I’ll never tell you a thing.” He gurgled on his own blood.

  Pulling out the rope I kept in my duffle, I hissed, “Ah, come on, Harold. You always have so much to say to me. Why stop now?”

  Mary helped to hold his weak and bleeding body still as I tied his hands and feet together. Once he was braced without defense, I pressed my knife against the side of his neck. “I know you aren’t smart enough to think of something like this on your own, but if you don’t speak up you’ll be the one to suffer from the mastermind’s plans—slice by slice.”

  I dug the knife into the first few layers of his skin. Refusing to talk, he clamped his jaw shut. To my surprise, Mary drove her knife into his arm. As he screamed, she dug her fingers into the new wound. “I’ll stop when you start!”

  “Never!” he wailed, choking and gagging on an ugly mix of slobber and blood.

  As she pressed down harder, the sound of a gunshot blasted through the alley.

  Seeing Mary grab her arm as she shouted in pain, I jumped to my feet to defend her. It was Bill who had shot her. He was threatening to fire again from behind the barrel where he hid. The son of a bitch shot my best friend and it was Harold’s fault. With another one of Bill’s wild bullets ricocheting through the alley, my hatred for the traitor before me overpowered my fear. There w
as no way in hell I could let this treasonous dog reap the rewards of his mutinous deed.

  Grabbing Mary’s second pistol off of her belt, I shot Harold in the neck.

  A wicked laugh of satisfaction rose in my throat as we ran around the corner. I’d been told there was a special place in Hell for mutineers, and it thrilled me to think he’d have to explain to Satan that a woman had sent him there.

  Spotting a ladder leading to the rooftop where Pablo had perched himself, Mary and I climbed it. Once we made it safely up, I kicked the ladder down while she gathered her bird. As we tucked away behind a large chimney, Mary heaved, “Looks like we aren’t half bad on our own, aye?”

  Short of breath and covered in sweat, I wiped my forehead. “Aye, but you got shot. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. It just grazed my arm, but that bastard ruined my pretty coat.”

  “If that’s all you’re worried about, I supposed you’re fine.” I let out a delirious laugh. “So, where the hell did you learn your torture tactics?”

  “I watched Flynn do that once. It went much smoother for him, though.” She wiped her bloody hand on her coat. “Apparently Harold hated you more than he liked living.”

  “Bastard. Ugh. Anyhow, we need to find out who wants Sterling, and why.”

  At that moment I heard Bill yelling at his mates in the alley below us. “Get up, Willy!”

  Mary flashed a surly grin. We crawled toward the sounds. Looking down over the ledge, we watched Bill kick the man I had shot in the leg. “You too, Pauly!”

  Following their defeated whimpers, we slinked along behind them. Limping and whining, they trudged to the next alley over. Hearing them come to a stop, we positioned ourselves at a safe vantage point and peered over to see what was going on.

  My rapid heartbeat came to an instant halt when I saw Shadow Man step out of the darkness.

  In the faint glow of torchlight I got a clear look at his figure—tall and well built, with wide shoulders filling out his black coat. Everything he wore was black. Though I could not see his face beneath his cavalier hat, I took note of his lengthy goatee and long, dark hair.

  “Where is she?” Shadow Man calmly asked his men.

  “Well, Mister Voodoo Doubloon, you see…” Bill twiddled his fingers.

  Voodoo Doubloon looked around. “I see no captive, and I hear no answer. This leads me to believe you have failed me.”

  “They were fast and they fought,” Bill tried to explain. “They killed Tom and Harold, and…”

  “Then that Black Rose shot me!” Pauly wailed from the ground he was balled up on.

  “And the other one stabbed me,” Willy cried out.

  “Silence,” Doubloon hissed with a cold and even tone—easily taming their uproar. “You shall not live to share this shameful tale.”

  As swiftly as he slipped through the shadows, Voodoo Doubloon reached for Bill, twisted him around, and slit his throat.

  The moment Bill’s dead body hit the ground, Doubloon turned to face Willy and Pauly. “Would anyone else like to explain the details of this sheer and utter failure?”

  They looked at each other. As though they never had been injured, they leapt to their feet and ran like the wind.

  Dreading the wrath of Doubloon, my blood rushed with an empathetic fear for the men whom I had only moments before wished death upon. As if they were my brethren, I silently rooted for their safe escape. Since Doubloon had not moved, I figured they might get away. Just before they cleared the corner, Doubloon pulled two knives from his belt and threw them through the air. Containing the gasp of horror that rose in my throat, I watched the blades land solidly in the backs of the running men. With a thump, they each fell face-first onto the ground.

  Pauly moved no longer. Willy moaned in terror while attempting to slither away. Doubloon walked towards him, slowly. Hearing his steps, the victim shrieked and attempted to quicken his pathetic pace, but there was no hope. With a heavy boot to the back, Doubloon held him down stiffly. Yanking his knife out of the weeping man’s injured body, he grabbed Willy by the hair, lifted his face from the ground, and slit his throat.

  Mary and I watched in horror as Doubloon strolled over to Pauly’s dead body. My stomach churned in sickness as he casually plucked his knife out from the dead man’s back.

  Standing alone, Doubloon cleaned the blades of his dreadfully sharp knives, then stashed them away. He gently brushed off his coat sleeves as if he were attempting to look his best for church. Exiting the alleyway, he tipped his hat at a lady passing by, and once again disappeared into the night.

  “Who the hell was that?” Mary gasped.

  Clutching onto her arm to stabilize my spiraling mind, I said, “He’s the cursed Shadow Man I told you about! What in the world does he want with me and Sterling?”

  “This is terrible.” Mary stood up. “We better go tell Sterling before that ghastly ghoul gets to him first.”

  “Yes.” I rose to my feet and looked towards the bay that suddenly seemed so far away. “And we need to get the hell off this island before there’s another nightfall for him to hide in.”

  Reaching Wicked Rose, we found many men drinking and celebrating with the band they had coerced into service. Though I was appalled by the sight of naked whores being passed around like dinner platters, I had more important things on my mind. Parting the crowd like Moses did the Red Sea, Mary and I made our way through the sinful crevice, intent on reporting the events to the captain.

  Barging into Sterling’s cabin, I saw two men I didn’t recognize talking and drinking with Faron Flynn at the table—one had brown hair and the other was redheaded. But in the corner, well away from the others, a tall brunette was standing dangerously close to my man. She was fiddling with the beads I had woven into his hair. The sight of him leaping away from her like he’d been caught doing something wrong sent me into an explosive fit of rage.

  “Who the hell is this?” I grabbed her by the hair and yanked her away from my drunk and smiling husband.

  She shrieked as she crashed against the bulkhead. While the brown haired man ran to her assistance, Sterling waved his hands at me. “No, no, no. Don’t hurt her, we were just…”

  His desire to protect her intensified my outrage. I punched him across the jaw. “What the hell is the matter with you?”

  “Ah!” He grabbed his aching face. “What’s the matter with you? I wasn’t doing nothing.”

  “And how would you like it if I was doing that kind of nothing with another man?” I threw my arms out to my sides.

  “Well, you, but I, that isn’t the point…”

  With no mind for his stupid, slurred words, I turned back to face the bitch, who was being yelled at by the brown haired man.

  “This isn’t what we came in here for, Shannyn!” the angry fellow roared.

  The stupid little slut fanned him off. “You wouldn’t even have gotten in here without me, Rory.”

  Shoving Rory out of the way, I grabbed Shannyn by the hair, lifted her off the floor, and shoved her against the bulkhead. Mary pushed Rory away from me, which caused the redhead to leap to his mate’s defense. Seeing the redheaded man charge at Mary, Faron casually raised his pistol and shot him in the leg.

  With the redhead coddling his gunshot wound, Rory holding his hands up in surrender to Mary’s pistol, and Shannyn snarling beneath the knife blade I held firmly at her throat, I heard Faron laugh. “It’s like a goddamned theater in here.”

  I hissed at Shannyn, “Aye, and I’m the heroine who kills the home-wrecking villain.”

  Grabbing me by the arm, Sterling yanked me away from her. “Get your blade off of her, Charlie. She’s nothing but my friend.”

  “You don’t have any friends!” I screamed at him, then threw my knife at her. As I had aimed to do, the blade landed in the bulkhead right next to her face, but to my pleasant surprise, it also caught a bit of her ratty brown hair. “Don’t you even think about moving.” I pointed at her.

  �
��Ah, I got friends.” Sterling hiccupped. “And her father is one of them. This is Billy Barlow’s daughter. She’s the girl his treason sucking wife Lula took from him. And that crazy ol’ bloke will cut my damned head off if you kill her.”

  Enraged by the fact that I was no longer allowed to hurt her, but unable to contain my desire to do so, I grabbed another knife off my belt as I said, “Billy’s too jolly to be chopping heads off.”

  “Bullshit.” Sterling laughed. “I saw him do it once. He kept it on his mantle in his study till his wife made him throw it out.”

  Seeing Shannyn make a gagging face, like she was remembering the dreadful truth, I settled for chucking my knife between her knees. “You’re going to stay right there with your trampy legs closed and your slutty lips shut while my husband tries to convince me not to let your father cut his head off.”

  With Shannyn frozen stiff in surrender, I lifted my brows as I looked at Sterling. “Go on, pirate qui se trouve. Tell me everything.”

  Sitting down, he opened another bottle of rum and wiped the sweat off his forehead. “Damn it, Charlie, you got me all sweaty and shit.”

  Sitting down next to him, I tapped the jeweled handle of my bodice dagger. “I could make you bloody, too, if you would like.”

  “No thanks.” He laughed. “Shit, she just brought her mates in here so they could tell me something. We were only getting reacquainted. Hell, I’d just told her I had a sweet little wife right afore you walked in the door.” He flashed me with a ridiculous grin.

  “Sweet as candied sugar,” Faron chortled.

  “I hope you’ve both learned to keep your reacquainting at arm’s length from now on.” I sneered at the tramp.

  Sterling chuckled, “What’d I tell you about the timing, Shannyn? Lucky for you she didn’t get straight to cutting your arms off.”

  Shannyn didn’t laugh. Neither did I.

  “So what the hell do her stupid little friends want to tell you?” I sliced open a rum bottle of my own.