The Match of the Century by Cathy Maxwell

sound. “They are gone. For now. Let me help you up.”
    She needed his help. Her knees hurt, her ankles hurt, the left side of her hip hurt as he helped her up the bank. He took her hand, lacing his fingers in hers. “Can you walk?” he asked.
    “Do I have a choice?”
    “Possibly. Let’s see what we can find out. Come.”
    Elin followed. It seemed the most natural thing to do at this moment. Follow Ben; be safe.
    Of course, there had been a time when she’d followed him into all sorts of adventures. Being with him right now seemed natural to her. Peaceful, even, as if she’d found a part of her that had long been lost—until she realized he was leading her to the tavern.
    She dug in her heels. “Shouldn’t we be going away from here?”
    “We will, but we need a few things first. If you wish, you may wait here.”
    “I’m not staying alone,” she informed him, but he had already let go of her hand and was stealthily making his way to the front of the building. She followed.
    Her night vision was very good right now. She noticed that the horses were gone.
    Ben peered through a window, then opened the front door and walked right in. Elin came behind him. She blinked in the light from the hearth and a few candles, then she saw the bodies.
    A beefy man lay on his back next to the door. He was Peters or Tucker. There was a trail of blood where they had dragged him from where he died.
    The room itself was in a shambles. Tables had been overturned and chairs broken.
    Osprey came in from the outer room. He held an ancient blunderbuss. He smiled with relief at the sight of Ben and raised the gun, nodding to the body beside the door. “Still works. I wondered, but now I know.”
    “So you returned,” Big Roger’s voice said as he stood up from where he’d been in hiding behind the bar. He, too, held a gun, a horse pistol like the one Darby and his men had been using.
    “What happened?” Ben asked.
    “You left in the ruckus, Whit,” Big Roger said. “Those are dangerous men. They don’t hesitate to kill.”
    “How did that one die?” Ben asked.
    “I shot him,” Osprey answered, waving his gun.
    Big Roger placed the horse pistol on the bar and lifted a tankard he’d been using. “They didn’t want us. They want your lass. They want her bad. After they saw you leave the room, they went after you, but I was right on them. I thought I was handy with my fives, but they are meaner.” He lifted a hand to his jaw to show what he meant.
    “Knocked him out,” Osprey said, impressed. “So, I shot one of them. They didn’t even stop for their companion. Roger is right. They want you,” he said to Elin.
    A coldness stole over Elin. A dread.
    “Who rode off?” Ben asked Big Roger
    “Who else? Nate and Hook Nose. They think to lead those bastards a merry chase, pardon my bluntness, Miss.”
    Elin waved away any offense. As she did so, she realized she still wore her gloves. After everything she had been through this day, she had the absurd notion to laugh at her properness.
    Ben cast a worried glance at her and walked to the bar. “Any more of that brandy?”
    “Nate bounced it off the head of that lad who pointed a finger at you,” Osprey said. “That lad is a fool. Always thinking he is better than he should be. He won’t be showing his face here again.”
    “Try this,” Big Roger said, and pushed his tankard toward Ben, who carried it to Elin.
    “Courage,” he said as he handed it to her. The mug was full. She drank, then wanted to curl up and weep.
    “Do you have any food we can take?” Ben asked the innkeeper.
    “I have cheese and some dried apples. That’s all you and your mates haven’t eaten.”
    “We’ll take that with your leave,” Ben said. “I don’t know where the money I won is now that the table is broken, but you can have it all.”
    “Don’t worry,” Osprey said, turning on his heel to fetch the food from someplace in the back.
    Ben went to the dead body and knelt. “It