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‘—iiargh!’
Four rifles came up. I dived down behind the only cover I had.
Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!
Splat! Splat! Splat! Splat!
Thank God for shit.
Now there’s a sentence I had never thought I would ever use. Raising my revolver, I pointed it over the pile of refuse, aiming as well as I could without exposing myself.
Click!
What? No, no, no! Not click! It’s supposed to go ‘bam’, dammit!
‘’e’s out of ammunition! Get ‘im!’
Merde!
And this time, I wasn’t referring to horse crap.
I was just starting to fumble for more bullets when, from outside, I heard sounds approaching. But…that couldn’t be, could it? It couldn’t be…hoof beats? The entrance was still guarded by gunmen. Who would be crazy enough to ride at a line of rifleman at full gallop?
Oh no.
No, please, no.
Cries and shouts exploded outside. Gunfire roared. A moment later, the stable doors burst open, and what looked like a horse trough riding on top of a horse rushed inside. Then, the bullet-riddled horse trough was hurled aside, revealing Mr Rikkard Ambrose, eyes blazing like glaciers in the arctic sun. The two soldiers on whose heads he dropped the horse trough probably didn’t appreciate the sight as much as I did.
Neither did the two soldiers who were still standing, apparently. They raised their rifles.
My hands moved in a flash. A new bullet was in the chamber before I had taken another breath. A split second later, it slammed into the first soldier’s head. He dropped to the ground, dead as a doornail repurposed for coffin manufacture. His comrade cursed and, with his bayonet, lashed out at me. Or at least he tried to. With one swift tug on the reins, Mr Ambrose whirled his mount around, and its hooves lashed out, scything through the air. They slammed into the soldier’s head, throwing him backwards, right into…
Well, let’s just say the undertaker would have to do a lot of cleaning.
Suddenly, there was silence in the stable. Outside, we could hear the sounds of fighting still going on. Either Karim was on a rampage, or we had somehow received reinforcements. Knowing Karim, I was betting on the former. Still, right now, I didn’t care. In that moment, there was only Mr Rikkard Ambrose and me, and the silent little space around us.
‘What were you thinking, Mr Linton?’ His voice was a spear of ice, his eyes swirling oceans of darkness. ‘Risking your neck like that? What were you thinking?’
‘I was thinking about you,’ I told him.
‘You…you…’
We moved at the same time. It was as if some inextricable force drew us towards each other. I dashed forward, he sprang down from his horse, ran towards me, and…
.,..backed away?
‘Ynk! Arg! Ng!’
Never before in my life had I heard Rikkard Ambrose utter such sounds. Concerned, I stepped forward.
‘What’s the matter? Are you all right?’
‘I will be, as soon as you step away. What have you been doing to yourself?’
‘Me?’ I blinked, nonplussed, and took another step forward. ‘Whatever do you mean? I–’
And then the penny dropped. Or should I say the road apple?
