Chapter 15 #2
He glanced at Isadore who sat her horse like she'd been doing so all her life.
That did not provide as much comfort as he would have liked.
She was armed with two pistols and a knife.
She appeared as calm as a lady about to attend a Venetian breakfast. Only he likely saw the pale sheen of her skin and the way she clutched and unclutched the reins of the stout mare she rode.
She would likely be furious with him before the night was done.
He'd given Benny specific instructions as to her care once the trouble started.
As good as he was at driving a carriage, there wasn't a better horseman in the Devil's Den than Benny.
Billings gave a long, low whistle. Ban cocked his head toward London. The rumble of wheels and the jingle of harnesses echoed across the dark, quiet heath. Carriage lamps bounced and winked against the drizzling rain and the night.
"Is that the one?" Isadore asked quietly. Ban heard the rapid rasp of her breath.
"Stay behind me," he ordered. "And do as you're told-- no matter what occurs.
" He looked over her head to where Benny sat on his horse next to her.
Ban took up his reins and turned his horse north.
He gave Benny a slow nod to which the big, silent man responded with a vigorous nod of his own.
He could count on Benny to do as he was ordered.
Ban's coachman had grown very fond of Isadore and would do whatever he was ordered to do to keep her safe.
The coach rushed past them. Ban spurred his horse into a gallop.
His men followed suit. A last look over his shoulder revealed that Benny had taken control of Isadore's reins and positioned his and her horses behind everyone else.
He could hear Isadore screaming at him as he set after the coach and had to grin.
She swore like a Covent Garden doxie when she was angry.
The gunfire started immediately. The six or more outriders were no fools.
At the sound of multiple horses racing after them, they immediately sought to end the pursuit.
Ban felt a pistol ball or two whiz past his head.
He urged his horse forward. Mad Dog and Six Fingers swung around to the far side of the coach and took out two of the outriders.
Once he got close enough to the back of the coach, Ban launched his body at the roof and pulled himself up to his feet.
He fought to keep his balance. One of the outriders fired a blunderbuss at him.
The shot peppered his long leather coat.
Ban pulled his pistol from his waistband and shot the man out of the saddle.
He staggered to the front of the coach. The man seated next to the coachman pulled a pistol.
Ban used his own now empty pistol to slap the gun from the man's hand just as it fired.
He grabbed the gunman by the head and flung him off the coach.
He dropped onto the bench next to the coachman and pulled his other pistol.
"Either you jump or I shoot you," he declared.
"Your choice.' The man took one look at the pistol and dove off the coach into a ditch filled with privet.
Ban struggled to bring the team to a halt.
Billings was fighting to drag one of the outriders off his horse.
Mad Dog, a pistol in each hand, took out two more of the outriders.
Six Fingers had caught up Ban's horse and brought it alongside the driver's bench.
Ban, pistol still in hand, ducked as a round flew by and embedded into the wood of the footboard.
"How many more?" he shouted at Six Fingers as he stepped onto his horse.
"One or two," Billings said, riding up beside them. "Get the boy and let's make for London. Your lady is giving Benny hell."
Ban looked up and realized poor Benny had been unable to slow Isadore down much.
She'd likely seen everything. He drew his horse up beside the door to the coach and slid to the ground.
He snatched the door open and stepped inside, pistol first. The maid and the butler were crowded onto the far side of the rear facing seat.
A pale-faced boy sat on the floor, tied hand and foot.
The frightened eyes that peered up at him were Isadore's eyes, grey and full of the sort of wisdom no child should own.
"Untie him." Ban waved his pistol at the butler who shook his head. "Untie him or I'll shoot you in the belly and leave you on the road to bleed out." The pig-nosed excuse for a man snatched the knots loose and removed the gag from the boy's mouth.
"Mister Fitz-Wilton will kill you," the maid shrieked. "You and the boy's whore of a mother."
"Stubble it, you pox-ridden bitch," Ban growled.
"I have no trouble shooting a woman, especially one like you.
" He looked down at the boy on the coach floor.
"Come with me, Jeremy." More gunfire sounded outside.
He extended his hand and helped the boy to his feet.
"Time to go, lad." Ban backed out of the coach and stepped up onto his horse.
He moved the gelding next to the now lowered coach steps.
The boy put one foot on the first step, but then turned back.
"My coat," he cried.
"Jesus, boy, I'll give you a fucking coat. Billings, unhitch the horses. These two can walk back to London. Come on, boy. Don't you hear your mother screaming at me?"
Jeremy stepped back onto the coach step, a worn great coat clutched in one hand. Ban took his other hand and pulled the boy onto the back of his horse.
"My mother?" Jeremy wrapped his arms around Ban's waist.
"The most stubborn, arrogant, opinionated, infuriating woman I have ever met in my life," Ban replied as he urged his horse towards the shrieking on horseback fighting with Benny over the reins. "The woman who blackmailed me into finding you, damn her. The woman I think I love."
"I'm...sorry?" The boy was obviously bewildered.
He wasn't the only one.