The Night of the English Invasion
Chapter 11
The Arrival
"Don't move!" came a voice he recognised.
"Mears! Don't you ever get tired of this posturing? There's no way you're going to shoot me."
"You're right but I'm quite happy to render you unconscious with the butt of my gun," Mears assured him.
Jim winced. "Yes, you're good at that aren't you?" He still had a sore head from the last time. However he was confident he was quick enough to disarm Mears before he had a chance to attack. This was made easier by the distraction that Artie caused by hobbling into the room at that moment.
"Hey, Jim, where's the cup of coffee you...oh!"
Artie froze as soon as he saw his partner being held at gunpoint. He hadn't met Mears before so thought that Jim might be shot at any moment. His nerves began to jangle and he shook his head to clear it.
The distraction was enough for Jim to turn the tables on Mears. He turned round, grabbed the barrel of Mears' gun and yanked it from his hand in one fluid movement.
"Hey!" Mears said, surprised, and raised his hands in the air as Jim pointed his own gun at him. Jim motioned him to the other side of the room and the Kirby's took the opportunity to join Jim so that all three of them were looking at Mears.
There was a shout followed by a loud noise as a bullet shattered a nearby window, missing Artie's ear by a few inches. He threw himself to the floor, despite the pain in his ankle. Hopefully everyone would think he had cried out in pain and not because of sheer panic.
Jim ushered the Kirbys behind a sofa and crouch down behind a chair, scanning the window, his eyes searching out the gunman.
Mrs Fortescue-Drummond sat frozen in her chair, the baby now crying.
Mears had been equally startled by the gunshot. "What on earth do you think you're doing?" he shouted from his hiding place behind the door. "You nearly blew my head off."
A voice came back through the shattered window.
"Hey, don't fire at us!" Dale Hickman said. "We didn't mean to shoot nobody. The dang dog bit Jake on the hand and his gun just went off. We didn't kill anyone did we?"
"No, thank goodness, you pair of idiots."
Jim stood up and aimed his gun at the window. "Put down your guns and show yourselves!" he ordered.
As he spoke Jasper rushed through the door with Jake's gun in his hand, laying it at Artie's feet. The agent had managed to raise himself up on his makeshift crutch by this time.
"Well done, boy!" Artie said, rubbing his hand over the dog's head, much to his delight as evidenced by the wagging of his tail.
Dale's gun came through the window, followed by the brothers themselves. Jake was nursing his right hand, which Jasper had bitten.
"Oh dear, let me see to that," Sweetie said, advancing on the injured man. Jake held out his hand and she took a look at it before ushering him into the kitchen where she could clean it and put a bandage on it.
Jim, who still had his gun trained on the other three conspirators, felt he was strangely losing control of the situation. But he didn't try to stop Sweetie for some reason. Maybe it was because he had concluded that the men and woman in front of him were not actually any danger to him, as long as he made sure that he didn't allow Mears to get near him with a heavy object. That man was addicted to hitting him on the head.
Artie had settled himself in an armchair and had placed his foot on a stool. He had picked up the gun Jasper had presented him with and it was resting in his lap. The dog was happily sitting by his chair, sizing up the opposition, ready to attack should his master say the word.
"Lance," Jim said, "Would you b willing to ride into town and fetch the sheriff?"
"I'd be happy to," Kirby replied, leaving the room.
Mrs Fortescue-Drummond opened her mouth to speak but Dale got in before her. "You ain't gonna hand us over to the sheriff are you?" he asked. "Me and Jake ain't really gunmen. We lost our farm and when this lady asked us to help her get her grandson back from some kidnappers we said yes 'cos we needed the money. We ain't never killed nobody and Jake wouldn't even have shot at you if'n it wasn't for that there dog."
"How eloquent," Mrs Fortescue-Drummond said with a sniff. "You deceived me, Mr Hickman," she accused. "You and your brother made me think you were guns for hire."
"You thought that 'cos we had guns they were for hire. Look around you, lady, this is the west, most people got guns."
"Well, it seems I overestimated you," Mrs. Fortescue-Drummond said. She sat down, suddenly deflated, realising that she held no power any more. She hugged little Arthur to her.
Just then Jake and Sweetie came back. Now both the Hickman brothers had a bandaged hand. They looked at each other and shrugged.
"What happens now?" Mears asked. "I suppose the game is up and you'll be taking us into custody."
"Yeah, Jim," Artie chimed in. "What does happen now?"
"Well, there's the question of having kidnapped a secret service agent," Jim said, "and knocking him unconscious – twice," he added staring straight at Mears who was looking particularly sorry for himself.
"You can't count the first time," Dale chimed in, "we didn't know you was a secret service agent then."
"He's right, Jim," Artie said. Now that it was all over he was feeling more himself.
Jim frowned at Artie and then back at the culprits. "I will ask the sheriff to make sure that you make it safely onto a ship sailing for England. You are not welcome here anymore"
"Thank you, Mr West," Mears said. "I for one am quite keen to put all this nastiness behind us. My recent role is not one I relished and certainly my previous experiences in England had in no way prepared me for it."
"What about us?" Dale Hickman asked. "We don't wanna go on no boat. We were born right here in the USA."
"I'll think of something," Jim said. "But first we have to sort out this business with the baby and his mother," he said. "Where is his mother?" Jim asked the English woman.
"I..." she began but was interrupted by a sound coming from outside – the sound of horses.
Lance entered the room. "On my way into town I ran into this fellow," he said and then stood to one side to reveal a tall, blond, well-dressed man in his mid thirties who turned to Mrs Fortescue-Drummond and said, "Hello, mother."
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To be continued
