Jim DeFelice - The Golden Flask

"Doctor Clynne?"

"Our surgeon," prompted Daltoons. "I believe he went to fetch you this morning. He claimed to know all your haunts."

"I'm sure he'll turn up," said Jake, adding in a whispered aside that the bullets must be handled gingerly. He turned to Bauer. "A nice morning to die, isn't it? Gray and overcast?"

The Tory gave him a grimace. To his credit, there was no show of fear in his face. "Etiquette requires that you be given a chance to renounce your insult."

"Hardly," said Jake. "A kiss is a kiss and can never be denied."

Lord William's hands began to shake as he took up the copper bullet to load his brother-in-law's gun. Daltoons reached over and caught the ball as it slipped toward the ground.

"What sort of bullets are these?" Bauer asked.

"I would not shoot you with common lead. A man of your circumstances deserves finer metal. If you object to copper — "

"The right of weapons is yours," said Bauer. He reached angrily for the gun Daltoons had originally loaded for Jake.

His brother-in-law put out his hand to stop him. "Perhaps it was not meant as an insult," said Lord William. "This is a silly matter for two civilized men to fight over. No offense was taken."

"Stand out of the way, William." Bauer sneered at the pistol's lack of ornamentation, then sighted down the barrel. The gun was lighter than the one he had practiced with and promised an easier kick.

Jake remembered Bebeef’s advice that his victim's coat be removed to insure the poorly propelled bullet would prick the skin. He took off his own jacket, hoping it would entice Bauer to do the same.

It did not.

He turned to Daltoons. "It will look as if we are dead. Make an excuse to take both of us with you, and send Lord William back by himself."

"Easily accomplished," said Daltoons. "But are you going to be shot as well?"

"Alison is by the boat," Jake whispered, turning around as he heard Lord William behind him.

"I beg you, sir, to renounce this foolishness."

"I renounce nothing," said Jake. "It is an excellent day to die!" He took his pistol and began walking toward Bauer. "Is that the suit you're to be buried in? Where would you like the bullet hole?"

"Braggadocio ill becomes you."

"Hold my gun," said Jake, holding the pistol out to him. "Go ahead, I trust you won't shoot me before the proper time."

Unsure what his opponent was up to, Bauer took the weapon cautiously. Jake promptly stripped off his vest coat, exposing his white shirt.

"I want you to have a bright target. You'll excuse the tear in the back; a rebel and I recently had a disagreement. You will note where the coward struck me, but he paid for his impudence."

Jake grabbed his gun back and began walking to his mark. This last bit of bluster finally achieved its purpose. Bauer, deciding he could not be outdone, took off his own outer clothes.

"Shall we draw lots for the first shot?" Jake asked.

"The first shot is mine, by right," said Bauer. "If we are to observe the London etiquette."

"In that case," said Jake, "I choose position. Start here, three paces, and fire."

Concern flickered across Bauer's face. "I believe the general prescription is for a wider distance."

"I will concede five," said Jake. "Unless you are afraid?"

Bauer turned abruptly, aiming his gun toward the ground. "Your second may count us off."

Jake nodded at Lord William. "Recommend me to your wife. I wish her Godspeed back to England."

Lord William hesitated. He had lost his son a few months before, and now confronted the possibility of losing his brother-in-law. While he had not liked Bauer over-much, the man had always been decent to him and was, after all, his wife's brother. It was his honor at stake, in a way, as it was his wife who had been insulted, yet the entire matter seemed foolish and blown considerably out of proportion. But it was beyond his power to stop any of this; he nodded weakly and slipped to the side.

"Start, Captain Daltoons, before the insult is compounded," demanded Bauer.

"Wait!"

The men turned and saw Alison running from the ridge, her dress flowing behind her. Daltoons guessed from the frown on Jake's face that this was not part of the plan. The lieutenant reached to his back and took hold of the small pistol hidden there.

"Cousin, I wish to give you a kiss," said Alison, running forward.

Hoping the dress and dim light would keep the Tories from recognizing her, Jake stepped forward and was rewarded with a quite accomplished kiss.

"I might have known," he whispered. "Will you never follow my orders?"

"Three boats approaching," she answered. "There are many redcoats in the second and third."

"There's no need for concern," Jake announced loudly, turning away. "We will be done here quickly."

"What is it?" asked Bauer.

"Nothing. Our soldiers are patrolling below. Begin."

"There is a prohibition against dueling, and we should obey the law," suggested Lord William, seizing on the pretext.

But this attempt was brushed away by Bauer, who started the count himself. "One."

"Redcoats," Alison hissed to Daltoons as the two men began to pace, counting off their steps together.

"Too late to worry about them now," growled Daltoons. "Where the hell have you been? I sent out all my men looking for you."

"With Jake, of course."

"Two."

There is little a duel can be compared to. Stripped of its haughty speeches and overbearing emotion, it is merely walking and counting, turning and shooting.

When Bauer reached four, Jake became aware of every wound and bruise in his body. His muscles ached with the great fatigue of the night and indeed the entire war. He felt every abuse he had subjected himself to, every deprivation. His right arm and shoulder were especially grieved with their fresh wound; the muscles tensed and it took great effort to turn and present himself at five.

He had sheltered a vague hope that Bauer might accept rules allowing him to fire first, or at least simultaneously; even the bravest man must flinch a bit at the moment of death.

Less than ten yards separated them. Bauer took a breath and pulled the trigger, and Jake felt the air reverberate with the sound of his pistol.

He thought Bauer had missed. Then he felt his chest tightening, and darkness clawing at his eyes. As his tongue thickened in his mouth, he jerked his arm up and just managed to squeeze the trigger.

The ball struck the Tory in the meat of his right shoulder, away from the heart. The impact pushed Bauer's chest back and straightened his head; he smiled, took a labored breath, then collapsed slowly to the ground.

As had Jake, a few yards away.

Though she knew the plan well, Alison rent the air with a terrified scream, a wail that under other circumtances might have woken the dead. In this case, the two men remained crumpled on the hilltop, oblivious to the commotion that suddenly broke around them. Daltoons's men appeared in bright red uniforms, bayonets drawn, charging from the woods under the direction of a medium-sized man whose markings of sergeant were matched by the self-important strut so typical of the species. He ordered his companions about with a haughty snap and a variety of curses, just the thing to direct privates and confuse officers with. "What the hell is this, subjects of the king shooting each other?" said the sergeant, moving toward Daltoons. "Speak, sir."

"You are in the habit of addressing a captain in such a manner?"

"I will damn well address who I want as I want," answered the sergeant tartly. "Declare yourself."

"Captain Mark Daltoons, His Majesty's Sixth Grenadiers." The unit was, of course, an invention, but it came from the disguised Libertyman with so much pretense that a colorful and glorious history was fully implied. "I am in charge here."