Page 182 of New Storm Rising
The young man drew himself up a little more. “Who are you to order around an officer of the law, Sir?”
In answer, I plucked the marshal’s star from Mr Angleton’s chest and held it under the deputy’s nose with a broad smile.
The deputy’s face went pale. “Um…Yes, Sir, Ma’am! Right away! Let me get the boss, Sir, Ma’am!”
Wow! Wordless replies were so badass. No wonder Mr Rikkard Ambrose did it all the time.
“Pardon me?” One eyebrow lifted, Mr Angus Angleton took back his shiny star and sent a glare at me. “Iam the marshal here.”
“Oh, really?” My eyes widened in surprise. “And here I thought you were a salesman!”
He didn’t seem inclined to say anything after that. Instead, he retreated to the back with reddened ears, grumbling about disrespect to officers of the law and no proper procedures. From then on, instead of glaring at me, he contented himself with glaring at the group of outlaws who had just helped deliver his prisoners to jail. It was clear he was not happy with the situation. But still, he held his tongue.
A moment later, the gate swung open again and the frazzled young deputy reappeared. “P-please, come inside, Sir, Ma’am. The Sheriff is waiting for you.”
Giving a nod, Mr Ambrose strode inside. With a wink at the poor deputy, I followed.
The gate didn’t lead directly into the building, but into a second, larger courtyard with high walls and barbed wire on the top. A big, heavy-set man was waiting for us in the centre of the yard, inspecting everyone as we all filed in.
“Howdy, folks. How can I help you?”
Gesturing to his new hirelings, Mr Ambrose had them bring the Spaniards forward. “These men have committed several egregious crimes and have a bounty on their heads. Take them into custody.”
“Mmmph! Grrrmmph dmmph!” De Ravera protested, struggling in his bonds. “Grrrgmk! Dng!”
“Very well.” Gesturing, the sheriff called forward several deputies who grabbed De Ravera and De La Fuente, and were about to drag them away.
“Oh, I think you misunderstood.” Mr Ambrose’s words stopped them dead in their tracks. “I was not talking about the two. I meant taketheminto custody.”
With a flick of his wrist, he had drawn his revolver, pressing it into the desperado leader’s back. Mr Ambrose’s guards were hardly half a second behind, and before the other criminals could react, dozens of rifles and revolvers were pointed at them.
“I believe the bounties total five hundred fifty-seven thousand dollars and thirty cents,” My totally badass, spiffing husband said. “I shall await the payment by the day after tomorrow at the latest.”
“Really? How unfortunate.” Creed commented, his voice cold as steel. Then I suddenly heard a metallic click from behind me and felt something hard press into my back. “I think you’ll have to wait for your money a little longer.”
Showdown!
Dammit! How did he draw his gun so quickly?
Glancing over my shoulder as inconspicuously as possible, I was just able to see a tiny gun in his hand, then suddenly realized: he hadn’t drawn his gun at all. He had hidden one in his sleeve.
Goddamn blasted professional killers!
“Did you really think I wouldn’t expect this?” Creed demanded in a scathing tone. “Did you really think I wouldn’t be prepared?” Jabbing his gun into my back, he jerked his head at Mr Ambrose and his men. “You! Over there, backs to the wall, hands over your heads!”
Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s jaw worked and his eyes narrowed infinitesimally. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his grip on his revolver tighten. “I suggest you stop this now. Drop your weapon and release her, or I promise you will regret it.”
“Shut your mouth! Drop your gun and move, now!” Grabbing me by the back of the neck, Creed jammed his gun even harder into my spine. I was so going to beat the crap out of that bastard and have Ambrose Junior use him as a camel lavatory. “Or do you want me to put a bullet in your broad?”
A muscle in his jaw twitching, Mr Ambrose took a step back. Slowly, his grip loosened and a moment later…
Thud!
His revolver hit the ground.
Creed smiled. “Good boy. Now get up against the wall, all of you!”
“You can’t seriously think you will get away with this!” the sheriff demanded. “Who do you think you are?”
