Rapscallion

'No.'

'Then we'll deal with that problem when we come to it.'

They up-ended the table and laid it lengthways in front of the pantry door. As a place to make a last stand, it was wretched. Hawkwood knew that, if Pepper and his men got into the house, a kitchen table wasn't going to alter the outcome.

'We could always give ourselves up,' Lasseur offered, reading his mind.

'No,' Jess Flynn said. 'It's too late for that.'

Hawkwood knew she was thinking of Tyler.

'I'll take the Manton, Jess,' Hawkwood said. 'You take the pistol. We've still got one shot left with the rifle. I want to make it count before they get too close.'

No sooner had he spoken than there was a bang from outside and the rear kitchen window shattered.

Everyone ducked. No one was hit.

'They're probably trying to draw fire,' Hawkwood said. 'Let them waste ammunition.' He looked down at the dog. 'Put Rab in the pantry, Jess. We don't want him to get in the way.'

Hawkwood waited until the animal had been removed, then

he picked up the rifle. 'To your places. The second you realize you can't hold your position, fall back to the redoubt.'

From the corner of his eye, Hawkwood saw movement out of the window.

'Here they come,' he said.

Pepper peered round the corner of the barn. He could see Tyler's body in the dirt in front of the house. He looked for Tyler's horse and spotted it in the field where it was grazing contentedly, having bolted from the scene, oblivious to the carnage.

Tyler's death had come as a shock - and not just to Tyler. It was clear from his reaction that the Runner, Hawkwood, had also been taken by surprise. Pepper didn't think it was a lucky shot either. The woman had been deliberate in her aim. Her calmness and the cadence in her voice when she'd pulled the trigger had been proof of that. Pepper wondered what had led Jess Flynn to kill her own brother-in-law in cold blood.

He'd been intrigued by Tyler's request as they'd ridden from the trees: Leave the woman to me. It sounded as if Tyler had been harbouring some kind of vendetta against the Widow Flynn. Jess Flynn's uncompromising declaration of hostilities had confirmed that the ill feeling was mutual. Whatever her motive, by killing Tyler she had aligned herself with the two men Pepper and his crew had been sent to eradicate. Knowing Thomas Gadd's history with the late Jack Flynn, Pepper felt it was safe to assume that Gadd, too, had chosen sides. It was just as well he'd brought the number of men he had. Which brought him full circle back to Tyler. Pepper had never liked the man. He'd long considered Tyler to be a liability. So he did not feel bereaved by his death, only inconvenienced at being a man down so soon.

A shot rang out. Pepper heard a window break.

'Hold your fire!' he called. They were too far out of range for a pistol to do effective damage.

He was suddenly aware that his left arm had developed a ferocious itch. He reached to scratch it and then remembered there wasn't anything there to scratch. It had been ten years

since he'd lost the limb to a cutlass slash and yet the phantom tickles persisted. Sometimes, the sensation was so real he had to take a look to convince himself his arm really was gone.

Suppressing the impulse to grind his stump into the wall of the barn, Pepper surveyed their objective. The front of the house was a killing ground, as Tyler had found out to his cost. The safest approach would be via the rear, using the outbuildings as cover. From the nearest shed it was only a scurry over the vegetable garden to the back door. The side wall was reachable through the orchard. From there the attackers could plant themselves in the lee of the building, where the angle of the wall would offer protection against shots fired from the windows.

Behind him, Pepper's crew checked their weapons. Each of them had a brace of pistols. A couple carried cudgels. Four had short cutlasses held in scabbards on their belts. Hard, seasoned men, they had all served their apprenticeship either as escorts, bat men or tub carriers. The four cutlass bearers had all served in naval press gangs before joining Morgan's organization. Good men to have at your back in a fight, which was why Pepper had chosen them. He was prepared to forgive the errant shot a few moments ago. Seeing one of your number gunned down like that would spook anyone.

Pepper wondered about the opposition. Outnumbered they may be, but Hawkwood and Lasseur had proved themselves. The woman, too, though there was no telling how she would fare in the event of an assault on the house. As for Gadd, he'd seen action before, but he was old and he was a cripple. I low effective would he be? Pepper knew that they had weapons at least two long guns and a pistol - but did they have anything in reserve? Pepper doubted it.

The safest option would have been to wait it out, but Pepper and his crew had an appointment to keep, and it wouldn't do to be late. Certainly not tonight of all nights. Best to get the matter over with as quickly as possible.

Pepper drew the pistol from the holster across his chest.

'Billy, you stay with the horses. Keep them calm. Deacon, Roach and Clay - you're with me. The rest of you, go round the front. It's the Runner and the Frog we're after. As far as they're concerned, it's no quarter given or expected. If the widow and the old man get in the way, that's their misfortune.'

Pepper waited as the four men he'd dispatched to the front entrance worked their way to the other side of the barn and ran in single file towards the corner of the house, using the orchard as cover. No one shot at them.

'On me,' Pepper said. Pistol half-cocked, he stepped out from the wall. With Deacon, Clay and Roach at his heels, he ran towards the nearest outbuilding. They made it without incident. Pepper took stock. He could see that the other half of the crew had reached the orchard and were making their way through the trees. Two of them had drawn their cutlasses. Pepper looked towards the back door and the broken kitchen window. He could see vague movement inside the kitchen, but the rays of the low-hanging sun were reflecting off the remaining glass and the gloom inside the house prevented him from making out details.

The second outbuilding - the one nearest to the house - was only a few paces away. An eager Deacon sidled out from the wall. Pepper, seeing a dark shape move behind the broken window, opened his mouth to hiss a warning only to be silenced by a sharp report. Deacon's body was flung back against the outhouse wall. It remained motionless for several seconds, as if suspended from a hook, before toppling to one side like a puppet with severed strings. As Deacon hit the ground, blood seeping from the wound in his chest, a volley of small-arms fire sounded from the front of the house.

Hawkwood lowered the Manton. The gun wasn't as comfortable in his hands as a Baker rifle. Thankfully, the target had been an easy one. He had been hoping to get a clear shot at Pepper, but it had been one of Pepper's crew who had showed himself first, and beggars couldn't be choosers.

That left eight.

All they had now was the fowling piece and the two pistols, and not enough shot between them to make much of a difference.

As he laid the rifle down, Jess Flynn passed him the pistol. A second later he heard Gadd yell in the other room and then the seaman's cry was obliterated by an explosion of gunfire and the splintering of glass.

Hawkwood took the spare ball from his pocket and laid it next to the sink with the flask of powder and one of the squares of wadding. It looked as insignificant as a pea left at the side of a dinner plate. Knowing he probably wouldn't have time to reload anyway, Hawkwood drew back the pistol hammer and spoke over his shoulder. 'If one of us goes down, you pick up the gun. Make each shot count.'

Jess nodded nervously. 'I understand.'

Now let them come, he thought.

And they did.

At Pepper's nod, Roach broke from concealment, and Clay poked his head round the side of the outhouse and aimed a covering shot towards the kitchen window. As the pistol cracked, Roach, his cutlass drawn, veered left, heading towards the parlour end of the house.

Clay loosed off his second pistol and ducked back behind the outhouse to reload.