Chapter 17 #2
As soon the man began trotting toward her, others fell in line behind him, heading straight for Littleman and Patrick Brown. “Wait. Wait,” Littleman said softly, then, “Go!”
Littleman’s men skirted the edges of the oncoming rush of Bruner’s soldiers and headed to the house at a run. Bruner was screaming commands as his men grabbed Brown, dragging him across the street while one of them shoved a wrinkled paper at Littleman.
Littleman watched as Patrick Brown was roughly pulled to the front door. She turned to her man. “Now.”
At nearly the same time that Bruner pulled the wool cap off of Brown’s head and pushed him under glow of the streetlight, fireworks flared with a rat-a-tat-tat from the abandoned house.
Littleman ducked behind the wagon as Bruner’s men began shooting their pistols.
The men were mixed together in the middle of the street, not knowing who was who in the dark, but soon fist fights broke out, the flash of knives blinking in the glare of the exploding lights.
A man ran to Littleman, huffing his breath and bending at the waist.
“Well?” she asked.
“Gone. Saw them carrying someone to a closed carriage. Had to be the girl. They’re gone.”
Littleman smiled. “Excellent.” She skirted the fights until she stood in front of the brothel’s door. “This contract is shit. Doesn’t say Philpot dock.”
“Maybe it doesn’t,” Bruner said and shoved Brown to her. “But this sure as hell isn’t Phillip Brown.”
“Worth the try,” she said. “Call off your men before the cops get here.”
Littleman crossed the street and returned holding Patrick Brown’s arm. Her men followed her as Bruner’s gang dispersed, hearing police whistles getting closer. She hustled him into her carriage a block away and looked at his bloody face.
“The girl was moved.”
“Think they broke my nose,” he said as she handed him a length of bandage.
“Imagine they did.” Littleman tapped on the roof, and the carriage lurched forward. “Let’s hope your nephew is ready.”
Phillip and McDonald waited in the barn while Hendricks and Murphy found their way through alleys to the dock side of the building with Reed and Randolph following several minutes later.
McDonald and Brown walked across the street toward the front door, McDonald’s arm around Phillip’s neck, a short pistol in his side.
The two guards stationed there jumped to their feet, both armed with rifles.
“Get out of here,” one guard yelled.
“Don’t think I will,” Thomas said. “Tired of dancing to Littleman’s tune. I’ll be happy to turn over Brown here, for an offer of employment.”
“Bruner ain’t here,” the tall one said.
“Shut up,” the other man said to his partner and pointed his gun at McDonald. “Bruner’s inside. I’ll get him. You leave Brown and skedaddle.”
“Don’t think I’m leaving him without talking to Bruner,” McDonald said and inched forward.
“Then you’re going to be standing here a while.”
“Thought you said Bruner was inside.”
Phillip watched the shadows creep across the front of the building.
As Hendricks and Reed jumped the watchmen, McDonald and Phillip dropped to the street.
Neither man wanted to be caught in crossfire if the watchmen discharged their rifles.
It wasn’t long until the two men were being dragged around the corner of the building.
McDonald jumped to his feet and turned the knob on the door.
“What a pair,” he said. “Door should have been locked.”
“Probably, but it doesn’t matter. We would have gotten in regardless,” Phillip said.
He turned to Hendricks. “This is the part that will be the most dangerous. But we need to be inside so they aren’t suspicious and ride away with the girl.
Captain? Lieutenant? Can you pull on the watchman’s jackets and caps and stand by the door? ”
“What am I doing?” Murphy asked.
“Hide until we have her and hand her off to you. You’re going to get her to the carriage.
Mr. Wiest’s coachmen, Turnbull and Crimlock, are around the corner.
When I whistle, they’ll charge. You get yourself and the girl into the carriage.
Same for you two,” Phillip said to Reed and Randolph.
“Grab a strap or anything you can hang on to and get out of here before they realize you aren’t their men. ”
“What are you going to be doing?” Murphy asked.
“McDonald, Hendricks, and I will fight our way out and hope that the bulk of Bruner’s soldiers haven’t arrived yet.”
“I’ll be gone,” McDonald said. “Don’t be looking for me. Get yourselves out of here ’cause once Bruner knows it’s a double cross, I got to get to Missus. She’ll need to lay low for a day or two.”
Murphy turned. “I hear a wagon or a carriage.”
“That’ll be them. Come on, Hendricks, let’s get inside,” he said and followed McDonald into the dark and apparently deserted warehouse. Reed and Randolph were in the watchmen’s coats holding their rifles. “Here we go,” he said and closed the door behind him.
Phillip looked around in the dim moonlight coming through long windows on the side of the building, situated high enough that they couldn’t be used as an escape. There were crates and boxes piled haphazardly and a closed-in area with a door and a lock on the right.
McDonald stationed himself at the peephole. “Carriage is pulling up. Two men. No. Four men and the driver. Get ready. Doors unlocked.”
Phillip dropped to his haunches behind some crates. Hendricks was leaning against the wall where the door would open. Thomas stood six or seven feet from the door, maybe hoping to get them all inside before they realized something was wrong.
The door banged open, and four men charged inside at a run, one shouting at the watchmen to close the door behind them, the rest yelling over one another, the last man carrying a bundle in his arms. McDonald knocked the first man out with a bone-crunching fist to the chin.
Hendricks grabbed the man closest to him and put a cloth over the man’s face, holding him tight while he flailed.
Phillip dragged the man closest to him down to the ground, realizing it was only a young boy, who looked at him after one punch with terrified eyes and made to run to the back of the warehouse.
Phillip grabbed him from behind and wrapped a rope around his quivering hands.
He shoved him to the ground behind the boxes.
“Keep quiet,” Phillip hissed at the boy.
By that time, McDonald had the last man by the neck and Hendricks was pulling the bundle away from him.
Phillip could see bare legs kicking as she resisted what was happening, most likely terrified.
The man holding her was struggling against McDonald and starting to sag.
Hendricks wrenched the girl away from his arms.
“Let’s go,” Phillip said and took the girl from Hendricks, letting her stand at his side. He pulled the hood from over her face and the gag from her mouth. “You’re going to see Fanny.”
McDonald yanked the door open, and Phillip let out a shrill whistle from between two fingers.
Quickly, he heard the rumble of the coach wheels and heard Turnbull’s sharp command for his team.
Murphy came in the warehouse, picked up Nora Button, turning at a run to the carriage as it barreled toward them.
It was only a matter of seconds until the coach was slowing at the door, Crimlock atop beside Turnbull, a rifle in his hands.
Reed and Randolph yanked the carriage door open and climbed inside with Murphy and the girl.
Thomas McDonald was out the door and into the night while Hendricks ran to the back of Turnbull’s carriage, grabbing a strap.
Phillip followed him, running behind it, reaching for Hendrick’s hand when Bruner’s coachman stood up and fired a pistol.
The bullet caught Phillip in the shoulder, flinging him away from the carriage.
“Go, Turnbull, go,” he shouted and dropped to his knees holding his arm tight to his side. He heard the rumble of wagons and carriages careening down the street past the old barn, surely the rest of Bruner’s gang. He looked up and saw the driver aiming his gun at him again.
Phillip was losing blood and gritting his teeth with pain, but there was triumph too.
Turnbull turned the corner one street away, hawing his horses and tilting the coach on two wheels as he made the turn; Phillip could see Hendricks swaying on the back.
But all was well. She was away, he thought. Nora was away.
But the shot he expected at any moment went straight up in the air as McDonald spooked Bruner’s horses and the coachman tumbled to the ground with a sickening crunch of bone.
Seconds later, he felt himself lifted by two hands under his arms, making him scream in pain.
He was thrown over McDonald’s shoulder, his arms hanging, feeling the blood dripping down his fingertips.
The big man was running into the shadows as Phillip heard more shots fired in their direction.