Guns of Liberty Read Free

known.
    Daniel and the British major darted from the doorway of the Cock’s Crow and out into the settling mist. A few quick steps across the lantern-lit alley and they reached the stable that serviced the boarders at the tavern. They waited in the doorway of the stable to allow their eyes to adjust to the gloomy interior. The hairs rose on the back of Daniel’s neck and his hand dropped to his coat pocket and closed around his gun.
    “It will be dawn in a few hours. We can be well on our way by then,” Meeks said.
    “We haven’t finished talking.” Daniel glanced aside. He stiffened, sensing a movement in the hidden reaches of the nearest stall.
    “And you won’t,” a third party interjected. A person, unseen, spoke from the stall to the left of the doorway. Daniel recognized the voice in an instant. It could only belong to Justin Flambeau.
    Movement up ahead! Then another voice …
    “You in the cloak, this is none of your business. Leave us.” Sevier Flambeau materialized out of the shadowy interior of the stable and stepped into the pallid glare seeping through the open doorway. He blocked their path and brandished a dueling pistol that wavered from Daniel to the major.
    “I am an officer in service to His Majesty—” Meeks began.
    “Go now and live!” Sevier interrupted, shifting his stance.
    Meeks turned toward Daniel. “I don’t suppose you can reimburse me for your tavern bill.”
    “Not a shilling.”
    “Then you must needs pay me in service.” Meeks sighed. “Sorry, lads, you cannot have him. Not yet, anyway.”
    “You heard the major,” Daniel said. “Best you stand aside and let us see to our horses.”
    The voyageur spat in the dirt at his feet and squared his bulky shoulders. He held his pistol level. His face, like his brother Justin’s, was round, and florid from too much drink. He was the eldest and knew he should have had more sense. Then again, his hands were still dirty from his brother’s freshly dug grave.
    “Stand aside, is it, mon ami ? Then make me.”
    “As you say,” Daniel replied. There was a muffled explosion and fire spewed from his coat. A fraction of a second later the toe of Sevier’s right boot exploded in bits of leather and blood. Sevier howled and fired. Daniel was already in motion. He dropped and hurled himself into the shadow patch to his left and crashed into Justin as the other voyageur lunged forward with his knife. Daniel knocked Justin off his feet and scrambled atop the voyageur. He caught the man’s wrist, twisted until Justin dropped his knife. Then Daniel dragged him to his feet and flung the voyageur against the stable wall. Justin gasped for breath and charged forward.
    It was Josiah Meeks who halted the voyageur in his tracks. The major stepped out of the shadows, his cloak billowing like the wings of a great bat as he swung an arm’s length of timber. The wood cracked in half across Justin’s skull and dropped him in his tracks.
    Sevier moaned and cursed and rolled in the darkened aisle; he cradled his bloodied foot that was now absent a few toes. “I will kill you. One day, I swear—”
    Daniel swung a well-placed kick and rendered the man unconscious.
    “Bravo,” the British major said with a callous laugh. “A well-placed blow often speaks more eloquently than a timely retort.”
    Daniel was anxious to quit this city before he met any more of Sevier Flambeau’s relatives. He hurriedly saddled his horse and led the animal out of its stall. The bay shied and was difficult to handle, made skittish by the fight and the smell of blood.
    Justin groaned. Sevier began to mumble something, though neither man opened his eyes. That suited Daniel just fine. He ruefully examined his singed, blackened pocket and patted it once again to make sure all the embers were extinguished. Then he walked his horse out into the alley. It was a hell of a time to leave, so misty and dark and chillingly damp. Why was Meeks in so much of a hurry? He mounted,