James McGee - Rapscallion

"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.