British accent.”
“That’s because I’m from England.” She leaned over to take hold of his arm. “Let me help you, sir.”
“I like the way ... you folks talk.”
“That’s all well and good, but you seem to be injured—Oh!”
Her startled exclamation was the last thing he heard before the dawn light went away and darkness closed in around him.
When Sam, Stovepipe, and Elizabeth reached the wagon and found Wilbur there alone, Sam left the others behind and raced on into Flat Rock, arriving there at mid- morning.
Practically the first thing he saw was Matt sitting on a bench in front of the Buckingham Palace Saloon with Lady Augusta Winslow.
Matt grinned as Sam pulled up at the hitch rack and almost leaped from his saddle.
“Figured you’d be along directly,” Matt said. “Take it easy, I’m all right.”
“Yes, other than being addlepated for going off after that bunch by yourself,” Sam said. He nodded to the woman. “Lady Augusta. Good morning.”
“Yes, it is, thanks to your friend Matt,” she told him with a smile. “He rescued me, you know. Zack Jardine and two of his henchmen had kidnapped me.”
“Zack Jardine,” Sam repeated. He didn’t know the name.
“Big fella who was the leader of the bunch tryin’ to start a new war with the Navajo,” Matt explained. “Don’t worry, I didn’t know his name, either, until after I shot him.”
“He’s dead?”
Matt nodded.
“And so are the other two who got away when we busted up their attempt to deliver those rifles to the Indians.” A worried look appeared on Matt’s face. “You got Elizabeth away from Juan Pablo all right, didn’t you?”
“She’s fine,” Sam assured him. “And Juan Pablo won’t give any more trouble. His wife will see to that, along with Caballo Rojo.”
“Can’t help but think maybe it would’ve been better to shoot him,” Matt said. “I don’t cotton to somebody tellin’ me I’m gonna be shot at dawn. But I guess if they can keep him settled down, that’ll be all right.”
“Now the only one we have to worry about is poor Noah Reilly,” Lady Augusta said.
Sam’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
“The little fella who runs the general store?”
“That’s right,” the Englishwoman said. “He was found unconscious in front of the store early this morning. I think he must have seen Jardine and his men come into town and gotten suspicious of them. He may have confronted them before they came up the back stairs of the saloon and abducted me. Mr. Reilly appears to have been struck with a pistol.”
Sam shook his head.
“Poor little fella. Where is he?”
“I had him taken up to my room and put to bed there, in hopes that he’ll regain consciousness and recover.”
“Well, when he does wake up, he’ll be in a good place,” Matt said.
“Hush, Mr. Bodine,” Lady Augusta said with a smile. “You’re in no shape to be flirting with anyone. You only regained consciousness yourself a short time ago.”
“I was just a mite tired, that’s all. You said yourself those bullet holes in my side look like they’re still healin’ up just fine, ma’am.”
“Yes, but you’re going to need a great deal of rest before you’re back to normal.”
Matt might have had something to say about that, but before he could, one of the bartenders stepped through the batwings and told Lady Augusta, “Ma’am, that girl you had keepin’ an eye on Reilly just came down and said he’s awake. He’s all agitated, though, so I reckon you ought to go up there.”
“Of course,” she said as she got to her feet.
“I’ll come with you,” Sam said. “Noah was one of the first folks I met here in Flat Rock.”
Matt stood up.
“I’ll come, too. I want to hear what he’s got to say about what happened.”
The three of them went upstairs to Lady Augusta’s suite. They found Noah Reilly sitting up in bed, looking impatient while one of the saloon girls wiped his forehead with a wet cloth.
Reilly’s eyes widened for a second when he saw Sam.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. His eyes flicked toward Matt. “And who’s this?”
“Don’t worry about that, Noah,” Sam said. “Are you all right? You got clouted pretty hard on the head, it looks like.”
Reilly closed his eyes for a second and winced.
“Yes, I ... I’m fine. I can’t believe those savages didn’t scalp me, or at least cut my throat.”
