Page 39 of A Bonny Pretender
Louella sobbed and threw herself into Barker’s arms. He held her tight, stroking her hair with one hand, still holding the gun in his other, and nodded to the ladies. The only show of emotion was a slight quirk at the corner of his mouth.
But Brigid’s attention was on Frank, dancing and jabbing and tiring out Twisted Nose. The beast was panting, blood oozing from his wound and dripping from his hand. Red splattered Frank’s shirt and face, and one eye was swollen shut. The giant took another lumbering swing, and Frank planted a facer that sent him crumpling to the ground.
The postillions cheered. Frank, breathing hard, glowered at them. “When did you come round?”
“Just in time to see that devil go down. Well done, my lord,” said the lead post-boy.
Brigid ran to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Ye were brilliant,” she said, silently cursing the tears that threatened to spill.
“What shall we do with that one? He’s getting away.” The younger postillion pointed to the man hobbling toward the tree line.
Frank reached behind him and pulled out his spare pistol. “I never had time to ready this.” He did so and leveled it, aiming at the staggering highwayman. He fired.
He missed.
The older driver held out his own weapon. “I’m a terrible shot. Take mine, my lord.”
“Do ye mind?” Brigid asked, taking it before Frank could reach for it. It was a choice between his pride and making sure the scoundrel didn’t get away. She pointed the barrel, aimed for the cur’s leg, and squeezed the trigger. Gray Teeth went down.
