came toward him, clear in the moonlight.
The driver pulled on the reins to slow the horses as they entered the water and splashed across. They paused, heads down to drink, and Marley leaned out of the window and cried petulantly, “For God’s sake, why are we stopping, Kelly? Lay your whip across their damned hides.”
Clay urged Pegeen forward out of the trees, the Dragoon Colt ready in his right hand. Marley had withdrawn his head and the driver was reaching for his long whip.
He was a sullen, dangerous-looking fellow with brutal features and great sloping shoulders. His mouth opened slowly in amazement as Clay paused on the other side of the ford and said cheerfully, in an Irish accent, “A fine night for a walk, thanks be to God, and your master not needing you.”
The man started to reach under his seat and Clay raised the Colt and aimed it, the moonlight glinting on its brass frame. “I shouldn’t try it.”
The man dropped the reins and jumped down into the water. Marley leaned out of the window and said angrily, “What’s happening, Kelly? Didn’t I tell you to get those damned horses moving?” In the same moment, he saw Clay and withdrew hastily into the coach.
Kelly moved out of the water no more than a yard from Pegeen’s head. He made as if to pass and then turned and flung himself forward, hands reaching up to drag Clay from the saddle.
Clay pulled sharply on the reins, and as Pegeen danced away, he lifted his right boot into Kelly’s face. The man staggered backward with a groan and collapsed into the grass at the side of the road.
There was no sound from inside the coach and he moved Pegeen forward until she was standing in the shallows of the ford. “You’ve got five seconds to come out of there, Marley, before I start shooting.”
There was a slight pause before the door opened and Marley scrambled down into the stream. He stood there, the ice-cold water lapping about his knees. “I’ll see you hang for this.”
He started to wade forward and Clay shook his head. “Stay where you are. I want to talk to you.”
“Talk and be damned then,” Marley said. “You’ll get little else from me. I’ve no more than a sovereign in my purse.”
“I’m not interested in your money,” Clay said. “Only in certain unpleasant aspects of your nature. I understand you consider yourself a ladies’ man?”
“What the devil are you driving at?” Marley demanded, a frown on his face.
Clay shrugged. “Apparently, the ladies have another opinion. I’ve got a message from Eithne Fallon. She thanks you for your hospitality, but prefers to spend the night with her mother.”
Marley’s face was white in the moonlight. “You’ll pay for this.”
Clay cut him short. He pressed the muzzle of the Colt against the man’s forehead. “This is your only warning, Marley,” he said calmly. “If I hear that you’ve bothered the child or her mother again, you’ll get a bullet through the brain one dark night.”
“Who are you?” Marley said, and there was the beginning of fear in his voice.
Clay laughed mockingly. “Surely you received my letter? I told you to look for me.”
Marley’s jaw sagged and an expression of utter astonishment appeared on his face. “Captain Swing!” he said in a whisper.
“Correct!” Clay told him. “Now take off your coat.”
Marley glared up at him. “What are you going to do?” he demanded, and there was a crack in his voice.
Clay raised the Colt threateningly without replying and Marley stripped off his expensive evening cloak and then his tailcoat. He stood shivering in his shirtsleeves, a revolting, almost pathetic figure, and Clay pointed up the road toward Kileen. “You know where your house is. If I were you, I’d start running.”
By now Marley was thoroughly frightened. He backed away, his mouth trembling, and then he turned and started to run toward the village.
Clay holstered his Colt and urged Pegeen toward the coach. He pulled the
The driver pulled on the reins to slow the horses as they entered the water and splashed across. They paused, heads down to drink, and Marley leaned out of the window and cried petulantly, “For God’s sake, why are we stopping, Kelly? Lay your whip across their damned hides.”
Clay urged Pegeen forward out of the trees, the Dragoon Colt ready in his right hand. Marley had withdrawn his head and the driver was reaching for his long whip.
He was a sullen, dangerous-looking fellow with brutal features and great sloping shoulders. His mouth opened slowly in amazement as Clay paused on the other side of the ford and said cheerfully, in an Irish accent, “A fine night for a walk, thanks be to God, and your master not needing you.”
The man started to reach under his seat and Clay raised the Colt and aimed it, the moonlight glinting on its brass frame. “I shouldn’t try it.”
The man dropped the reins and jumped down into the water. Marley leaned out of the window and said angrily, “What’s happening, Kelly? Didn’t I tell you to get those damned horses moving?” In the same moment, he saw Clay and withdrew hastily into the coach.
Kelly moved out of the water no more than a yard from Pegeen’s head. He made as if to pass and then turned and flung himself forward, hands reaching up to drag Clay from the saddle.
Clay pulled sharply on the reins, and as Pegeen danced away, he lifted his right boot into Kelly’s face. The man staggered backward with a groan and collapsed into the grass at the side of the road.
There was no sound from inside the coach and he moved Pegeen forward until she was standing in the shallows of the ford. “You’ve got five seconds to come out of there, Marley, before I start shooting.”
There was a slight pause before the door opened and Marley scrambled down into the stream. He stood there, the ice-cold water lapping about his knees. “I’ll see you hang for this.”
He started to wade forward and Clay shook his head. “Stay where you are. I want to talk to you.”
“Talk and be damned then,” Marley said. “You’ll get little else from me. I’ve no more than a sovereign in my purse.”
“I’m not interested in your money,” Clay said. “Only in certain unpleasant aspects of your nature. I understand you consider yourself a ladies’ man?”
“What the devil are you driving at?” Marley demanded, a frown on his face.
Clay shrugged. “Apparently, the ladies have another opinion. I’ve got a message from Eithne Fallon. She thanks you for your hospitality, but prefers to spend the night with her mother.”
Marley’s face was white in the moonlight. “You’ll pay for this.”
Clay cut him short. He pressed the muzzle of the Colt against the man’s forehead. “This is your only warning, Marley,” he said calmly. “If I hear that you’ve bothered the child or her mother again, you’ll get a bullet through the brain one dark night.”
“Who are you?” Marley said, and there was the beginning of fear in his voice.
Clay laughed mockingly. “Surely you received my letter? I told you to look for me.”
Marley’s jaw sagged and an expression of utter astonishment appeared on his face. “Captain Swing!” he said in a whisper.
“Correct!” Clay told him. “Now take off your coat.”
Marley glared up at him. “What are you going to do?” he demanded, and there was a crack in his voice.
Clay raised the Colt threateningly without replying and Marley stripped off his expensive evening cloak and then his tailcoat. He stood shivering in his shirtsleeves, a revolting, almost pathetic figure, and Clay pointed up the road toward Kileen. “You know where your house is. If I were you, I’d start running.”
By now Marley was thoroughly frightened. He backed away, his mouth trembling, and then he turned and started to run toward the village.
Clay holstered his Colt and urged Pegeen toward the coach. He pulled the
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