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13
Chantal ducked sideways and Jess's flying body slammed into Carlin with considerable force. The pair went hurling backwards, but somehow Carlin kept his feet and found himself facing what looked like an apparition from hell. The blazing eyes of the blood-soaked figure confronting him burned with such unleashed fury that he took an involuntary step back. This man was supposed to be half-dead! What in hell itself could have driven him to such a revitalisation? The next moment he had his answer.
"The lady don't need a body-guard, but I'm still gonna break every bone in your damn body, one by one!"
"You?" Carlin sneered. "You're too weak. Too pathetic. You're finished – trash - just like she said. You'll never –"
He finally stopped talking because Jess's fist thumped savagely into his jaw. Carlin almost fell and Jess grabbed him before he did, knowing that he had only so much strength left. His next three blows, delivered with all the speed and power of a black bull charging, laid his enemy out cold on the floor. He stood, panting and swaying slightly, his blood dripping down onto the fallen body at his feet.
"That's better." His expression was savage as he raised his eyes and looked at Chantal. "Or maybe I should just rip his head off now?"
She drew in a breath, recognising that his protective instinct needed an outlet after being side-lined for so long. She was pretty sure Jess would never attack an unconscious man, however much he hated him, but figured he probably needed help reining in that temper of his. "Gracias, senor. Eso no será necesario."
"Pero será muy agradable!" His eyes were hard and bright with fury. "It'll be very enjoyable!"
"Suficiente. That's enough, Jess," she told him softly, carefully. "I ... we … and especially the children, don't need any more than you've already done to see him locked up for good."
He was still breathing hard, but she reckoned this was probably the result of his damaged ribs. The sooner those got seen to the better; he certainly hadn't been giving himself any respite since the beating. She looked towards the shattered window and allowed herself a small smile. "You could have used the stairs, Temerario."
"Too slow," Jess replied as he bent over and, instead of killing Carlin, fastened him securely with his own gun-belt and stripped the laces out of his boots to bind his ankles.
"How did you know where I was?" she asked curiously.
"It's where I'd take you," Jess replied absently, as he got unsteadily to his feet.
Chantal froze for a moment. "Why you - ! You - !" She was, for once, at a loss for words in any language. Then she flung herself at him, in quite her usual fashion.
Jess grabbed her by the shoulders. "Hold off or you'll get covered in blood again."
"I don't care, as long as it's yours!" Chantal was not sure if she was laughing or crying, but she got both arms round him, hugging him with passionate ferocity.
"I'll take that as a compliment, not a threat, then, shall I?" Jess bent his head and buried his face in the soft cloud of her hair.
They stood thus together for several minutes without speaking. It was a moot point who was propping who up.
Presently Jess stirred and they both released their hold on each other simultaneously. He bent and checked once more that Carlin was securely tied and still out for the count. "Let's get out of here. We'll send someone to collect the trash later." He took Chantal by the elbow and steered her firmly towards the window.
"Still no stairs?" Chantal was amused.
"Safer," was the clipped answer, but he obviously remembered something, because he went on: "Yeah, I know you can climbed down a rope ..." He paused as, at last, a mischievous twinkle returned to his eyes. "But isn't it supposed to be much more romantic if I carry you?"
"We don't do romantic," Chantal pointed out firmly, but, unwilling to lose such an opportunity completely, she hastened to add: "at least, not until all this is over and the children are free."
"Yeah, you're right." Jess was surveying the scene below. "Fortunately they've got Slim in charge and he'll move heaven and hell to make sure those kids are safe."
He's not the only one, Chantal thought, but she understood totally that it was Slim's cool head and planning ability which had ensured the success of the whole enterprise.
They managed to make an exit through the window without too much wrangling, although Jess did insist on lowering her because her hands would not stand the friction of the rope. Once they were crouched in the shadows, they found the smashing sound of Jess's entrance into the house had been the end of silent raiding and a signal for pandemonium to break out. There was sporadic gunfire and a great deal of yelling, wrestling and hurling of unspecified missiles going on. The house particularly seemed to be shaking with the force of the struggle. Even without Carlin, the mass of his men inside were not going to surrender easily.
It was some while before the last of the gang were subdued and rounded up in the middle of the yard, where the Ranulfiar were disarming them and tying them up. Jess was by now flagging sufficiently to just send a message into the house reporting that Carlin was currently powerless upstairs, awaiting collection. There did not, at this point, seem to be much need for his speedy removal.
After this, Cal brought Jess a bucket of water and a borrowed bandanna, with which he sponged away as much of the blood adhering to his person as he could. While he was washing, Chantal went over to the small pile of clothing which had been kicked aside in the struggle to over-run the fort and picked the items up. When Jess had cleaned up, she handed him his hat and shook out the black shirt. "Here, put this on. It's the only thing about you I won't have to darn!"
Jess took the shirt, but, before putting it on, he examined his upper left arm carefully. "Your stitches held up all right. Very professional!"
Chantal nodded in satisfaction. "Sally taught me. She figured I'd need to know how to do it right, if I was going to be around you much."
"There is an 'if'?" Jess asked, quirking up one eyebrow quizzically. Then he added almost inaudibly: "You can lead my horses to water any time." It sounded like an appropriate comment on their mutual stubbornness. Only Cal was able to interpret the true significance - and he just smiled and said nothing.
# # # # #
The clean-up and the round-up finished, it was time to take stock and complete the real purpose of the raid. Slim had emerged from the house along with Vin. He and Keilder and the others outside had been drawn into the fierce fighting going on inside the house, because the majority of Carlin's men had been assembled inside and could not, as Slim had planned, be barricaded into their quarters. Now the two of them came across the yard to where Cal, Jess and Chantal were standing together and wishing for somewhere quiet to sit down – and perhaps a cool beer or even a decent cup of coffee.
Jess was looking particularly defiant, however, since he recalled very clearly the way these two friends had threatened him before the action began. He glared at them both and waved a hand at the surrounding scene: "No one's tripped over me, see?" he asserted belligerently. "And the young lady is safe and leavin' this place in perfect health!"
"Really? Are you absolutely sure about that?" Slim teased, his gaze taking in the blood-stains on Chantal's borrowed shirt.
"That's mine!" Jess retorted, unabashed.
"Well, I suppose that's one way of staking your claim!" Cal grinned at his cousin, causing a ripple of mirth through the watching Ranulfiar.
"Yeah, and it looks like new shirts all round!" Slim quipped, since the black one was actually dark grey with dust and covered with foot-marks.
Despite the teasing, Chantal could see the absolute relief in Slim's eyes as they focused on her. She was not sure exactly where the two of them stood in relation to each other, but she did know that Slim had struggled and fought and risked just as much as Jess. Whether he liked it or not, Slim Sherman deserved a huge hug too. So she gave him one.
And was hugged back - much to her surprise. Slim was so relieved that he simply acted with his characteristic care for those who mattered to him. Afterwards, he held Chantal at arm's length and said fervently: "Thank God you're all right!" His relief was not just for her safety, but because he felt Jess had, in the end, acted out of genuine protective instinct. "I can't tell you how relieved I am," Slim assured her, before admitting with a laugh, "Not least because you've saved me adding a whole lot more bruises to Jess's skin!"
Chantal looked over her shoulder at Jess and said, after due consideration, "Thank you for threatening him! But where would you find a clear space to put them?"
"Too right! But, with luck, I won't have to because he'll get the hang of looking after you properly in the end."
This made her laugh. "I don't think that's on the cards!" But it was good to feel she was cared for in such as way. Chantal had had more than enough of brothers, but, if she was ever to have an elder brother, one cut to the pattern of Slim Sherman would do fine!
Jess had been watching them with amused approval. Slim looked across at him and saw, with the clarity of long friendship that, despite the appearance of utter nonchalance, he was inwardly reeling on his feet. Before anything drastic could happen to undermine Jess's deserved reputation for endurance, Slim was at one side of him, a split second before Cal, acting on the same instinct, stepped up on the other. Their eyes met in understanding.
As Jess looked from one to the other, his voice was a conspiratorial whisper: "I'm fine. Just keep me propped up. You two are the only ones I trust not to give me away!"
This uncharacteristic humility caused chuckles all round, as it was such a monumental admission on Jess's part. But Chantal had to take Cal's place as a prop, when Vin called his deputy over to organise the disposal of the prisoners and to help tend to those of the Ranulfiar who had been injured in seizing the fort.
"You sure y're up to this?" Jess inquired as Chantal hitched his arm over her shoulders.
"I think I'll survive," she replied demurely. "Unless you're going to make a life-time habit of getting beaten senseless and then fighting a battle immediately afterwards."
"Chantal," Slim warned gravely from Jess's other side, "I think you should know that is his usual method of operating."
"No kidding!" Jess and Chantal both said simultaneously.
The next moment, the main gates opened and the real cavalry thundered through, in the form of a posse of Marshalls, whose official presence had been arranged in advance by Vin, since the Ranulfiar did not operate in the public arena of the law courts. This necessarily diverted everyone's attention to the prisoners and the gate-house.
It nearly proved fatal.
Had it not been for the fact that Jess was more or less slumping between Slim and Chantal, the immediate danger might not have been spotted until it was too late. As it was, feeling he was too great a burden, Jess attempted to shift his arm from Chantal's shoulders in order to stand by himself. He stumbled and his head jerked up, his eye-line falling on the doorway of the house and the figure standing framed in it, his gun already in his hand, aimed directly at them.
"Carlin!"
Jess's strangled shout of amazement and horror rang out as he simultaneously pulled Chantal behind him and went for his gun.
A single shot rang out. Carlin collapsed and fell forward over the threshold.
It was not Jess's shot.
He straightened up, putting a hand back to pull Chantal to her feet again, but his eyes were on Slim.
"Guess I owe you one there, partner. You sure were faster than me!" Then a look of horror dawned on his face as he rolled the chamber of his gun. "Good job you were - I forgot Carlin took all m'bullets!"
A grin of pure triumph split Slim's face, but it was not because he had out-drawn Jess. Despite his expression, his voice was measured and judicial as he said: "I reckon we won't see Carlin torturing any more children!"
"Amen to that!" The affirmation came from all around him. No-one doubted the gravity of the crime or failed to rejoice because they had been able to bring it to an end.
"D'y reckon you killed him?" Jess asked, with the air of one interested in professional expertise.
"No." Slim's tone was just as neutral. "I was aiming for his shoulder. He'll live to pay for all his crimes."
"I sure hope they lock him up somewhere so dark he ain't never gonna see the light of day again!" Jess said, his voice echoing the fury which had driven him when he had beaten Carlin. "And serve him damn well right!"
"Suficiente!" Chantal reminded him.
"Suficiente," Jess agreed as they watched the fallen gang-leader carried over to join those he had once commanded. It transpired subsequently the girl, Maggie, for all her jealousy of Chantal, had set Carlin loose from his bonds while the fighting raged on the floors below.
All that remained now was to free the slaves, the press-ganged miners, and to restore the freedom and security from which they had been so brutally snatched. Everyone agreed this was Slim's task. He had discovered the situation and prepared them all for the assault and been a leader of the rescue mission. Besides, it was obvious to anyone with half an eye, how deep his real care for the children was. So they all gathered expectantly around the prison door, awaiting the moment when the freedom for which they had fought, not without the cost of injury, would become a reality.
Slim stood in front of the door and looked around the courtyard. Darkness had been driven back by the flaring torches and glowing lanterns held high in enthusiastic hands. But he suddenly realised how the mass of men, tall shadows against the light, with their injuries and weapons, their very intensity, would appear to the prisoners.
"We can't do it like this!" he stated categorically.
"Like what?" Vin was regarding him with puzzlement, as were a number of others. But not all. Some of them had children of their own. Some of them had experienced imprisonment.
Jess limped over to stand at his side. "He's right. Tell them, Hard Rock."
Slim smiled at the old nick-name, but it symbolised what the problem was. "Think what those children have been through," he appealed. "Hard treatment. Harsh handling. You fought hard tonight to free them, but how will they know that? All they'll see is another bunch of hard men. How can they know that any of us are to be trusted?"
A profound silence greeted this assessment. They all knew Slim had the right of it. Freedom needed to be accomplished without further horror or panic, which would not only add to the children's trauma, but might cause injury or even death.
Into the silence a brisk feminine voice told them: "In that case, you'd better open the door and let me go in first."
So it was that the first light of freedom to penetrate the gloom of the prison fell from the hand of a woman, strong and shining in her own right, and bearing a glowing lantern in her hand as she gently moved among those whose sufferings she had shared. But close behind her and bringing more light to the darkest part of the fortress was Slim, unmistakably strong and trustworthy and caring for all who needed his protection.