The phrase 'They don't let women do that' was somewhat amusing to hear from the remarkable Addy, because he didn't have enough fingers to enumerate all of the things she did that 'they' didn't let women do.   It seemed that 'they' had precious little influence here on the edge of things.  

Then again- even in wild places- if a handful of people gathered together, then a new societal convention would be formed.  'They' would decide what the new rules of behavior were, and what was acceptable in their new world.  Perhaps someday 'they' would decide that women could indeed enter the fray of war like the Amazons and Shield Maidens of old.

In any event, apparently she had still performed bold duty during the civil war, on behalf of the Southern states.  She must have been very young back then.  He tried to imagine some teenage version of Addy, ferrying blasted and bloody men from the battlefield, to be hacked upon by surgeons with saws.  The horrors she must have seen were incalculable.  The fact that she could still smile spoke volumes about her character.  

The British kept a stiff upper lip.  But perhaps her American grin was an even greater badge of bravery.

Eight brothers?  He was wide-eyed at that news.  Her mother must have been as brave as she.   With the rate of mothers dying in childbirth, reaching nine children without perishing was an even flip of the coin.  Perhaps worse.

"Ah."  Roland remarked about the mule-skinning.  "I was beginning to wonder about your cuisine here.  The French developed a taste for horse on their way back from Russia, after all."  He chuckled, not thinking that she might not get the joke.

As she mentioned that she wasn't interested in looking after a husband, he asked, "No marriage for you, then?  No settling down to produce remarkable children in your same mold?  Sounds to me the world will be worse for it.  Not to mention the dismay of men everywhere."   

"Hmm" he said as she mentioned the danger of the frontier.   Only the tough survive.  It was something he'd wondered about on the ship, then the train, and now crossing this seemingly endless stretch of land.  

Was he tough enough?

Or would some danger of this place eat him alive?

Topic turned to a subject he was more comfortable and familiar with: Guns.  He smiled broadly when she appreciated his rifle.  "It's a genuine Lancaster," he said proudly, before adding, "I finished it myself based on a new design, in my fa-" he paused almost imperceptibly, continuing, "avorite gunmaker's shop.  I was an apprentice, there.  Here, that training will prove out.  I'm glad to hear the town is in need of a good smith.  Would have been disheartening to arrive and find the place festooned with alternative professionals."

A good smith?  Or a good Smith?  Was he either of those?

The time passed, and he found that he needed to shift in his seat regularly to keep his bum from aching or worse- losing all sensation altogether.  He wondered how she got on without obtaining cushions for this bench seat.  The movement of a horse kept the blood flowing, but the movement of this wagon seemed to do little or nothing to sustain the circulation in his lower extremity.  At one point, he considered asking if they might stop for a moment and walk about a bit.  But she didn't seem to be tiring, and he didn't want to seem like a fop or meater.

Eventually, after some hours, they passed over a gentle rise in the terrain, only to find a cart up ahead that had been concealed by the contours of the landscape.  It was missing a wheel, which seemed to have been removed for repair.  A pair of horses had been unhitched, apparently, and were standing nearby.  The fact that these horses had saddles on was lost to Roland.  Two gents were standing beside the cart at the side of the road, and one of them waved in their direction and smiled.   The whole lot were still some seventy yards away.

By now, Roland had been utterly convinced of the general goodness of the locals, and not a bone of suspicion could be found in his body.

"Oh, look.  Seems they've run into a spot of trouble."

Tag: Adelaide 'Addy' Chappel 

Bongo

Addy was not at all pleased with the idea of eating horses, of all things, and and was determined never to go to France, not that that was an issue!  She brushed over the topic of marriage and children quickly, then settled into the more comfortable subject of firearms, something she knew much more about, even if she was a lousy shot!

Chatting with Roland was easy, and Addy was enjoying herself, although she was about ready for a short break, once they made it through the wide ravine up ahead.  She spotted the cart at the same time Roland did, and had the same thought about the horses under saddle.  But for the moment, she'd give the men the benefit of the doubt, even though she murmured to Roland, "Keep a hand on that pretty rifle ya got."

Stopping some distance back, she called out, "Ya got some trouble there?"  Her eyes scanned the ridges on either side of the road ahead of them, looking for any signs of trouble.  Hopefully, this was nothing more than it seemed, but it did no harm to be cautious.

Addy's freight wagon came to a stop about 30 yards from the pair.  Far enough to keep them out of arm's reach, but close enough that raised voices could still communicate well enough.   Roland glanced to Addie as she told him to keep his rifle ready.  This caused him to return his attention to the pair with greater suspicion than he'd felt earlier.

"We are shore lucky you came along," one of the pair remarked.  He shifted his stance, and Roland caught a glint of metal on a revolver holstered on his hip under his coat.  Not unusual at all on the frontier, but it only served to ramp up Roland's suspicion now that Addie had kicked it off.

"Broke our durned wheel," the other said.  He stood with one hand slightly behind his back.

At that moment, Ember made a whinny back where she was tethered to the back of the wagon.   Roland leaned to one side, looking behind Addy's wagon to see what might be bothering his horse.  That's when he noted a third individual, previously unseen.  Had the man been hidden behind a bit of brush?  In some recess of the surrounding terrain?  There was no way to tell, but there he was, now.   He seemed to be creeping up on the back of the wagon.  Holding a double-barreled shotgun in one hand, he swung it up when it became apparent to him that he'd been spotted.   

Roland pulled his head back just as a mighty boom thundered through the air.  A piece of the wagon's side-wall splintered, and lead pellets missed Roland's face by inches. 

"We're surrounded!"  Roland shouted, somewhat dramatically and unnecessarily, considering the shotgun blast that had just sounded loudly enough for even the deaf to hear.

The two men up the road quickly drew out their pistols- the exact type of firearm indiscernible at this range- but surely dangerous regardless of their make or model.

Bongo  Adelaide 'Addy' Chappel

Well, there was no question now that the men were up to no good, and they had Addy and Roland outnumbered.  Options were limited, outcomes dubious, but that had never deterred Addy in the past, and while she knew the odds weren't good, she didn't think that giving up would have any sort of positive outcome.

There wasn't any time to ponder over what to do, so Addy just reacted.  "Hang on!" she muttered to Roland, then snapped the lines.  "HEEE YAH!"  Leaning forward, she urged the horses into a gallop, headed for the two men in front of them.  By the time the men realized that she really had the gall to do that, the big wagon was almost on them, so that, as they started shooting, they had to fall back to avoid being crushed. 

The wagon careened past, one of the massive wheels splintering the side of the cart, but that wasn't the end of it, and Addy knew it...she was just looking for an advantage. 

"When we stop, hop out an' start shootin'!"  About half a mile up the trail, Addy pulled the team to a stop, and before the wagon had even stopped moving completely, she set the brake, grabbed the shotgun, then jumped from the box then rolled under the wagon.  Sure enough, the men were charging up behind them on their horses, but Addy had to wait for a shot.  The shotgun was a close-up weapon, and her pistol would still need them to be a bit closer.  Roland would have a much better chance with his rifle...

Roland brought his rifle up, leveling it upon the fellows up ahead, but a shout from Addie and a crack of her reigns brought the wagon into a sudden burst of motion.  Roland was thrown back a bit, and did not combat his inertia quickly enough to bring the barrels to bear.  He did manage to keep from tumbling off, at least, thanks to her warning.

The maneuver was as surprising to the men ahead as it was to Roland himself.  They snapped off quick shots that hit nothing as they scrambled back, narrowly avoiding being clipped by the wagon which scraped their cart. 

If indeed it is their cart, Roland thought, and not something they stole from a prior passerby.  

"I was just thinking about how nice everyone was in this place," Roland commented as they sped on.   They were making good time, and he peeked past the edge of the wagon to see how these brigands were faring.  He spied them mounting horses and setting into pursuit.  He and Addy had a good head-start thanks to the element of surprise, but it wouldn't take long for those horses to catch up.

"When we stop, hop out an' start shootin'!"

Roland looked at her with some surprise at such a bold plan.   She meant to disembark and hold their ground, fending off attack from a fixed position.  Roland's own instinct had been to flee as best they could and hope to reach...

Reach what?  There was nothing out here.  No nearby towns with a contingent of constables at the ready.  No people at all, most likely, and certainly none who could be trusted in this crisis.

Help wasn't coming.  It was up to them.

That was the truth of the frontier.

When the wagon stopped, Roland hopped out as ordered.  While Addy took a position under the wagon, Roland went to the rear and pulled Ember to one side of the vehicle and laid her down.  Sacrilege, perhaps, to take cover behind a horse.  To use a fine beast like this as a bullet stop.  But it seemed to him that it would be better if she absorbed the lead in his place.

The three riders came on, seemingly armed with pistols and that shotgun, and not any rifle.  They hadn't planned for a chase like this.  Nor had they planned for a fight.  Their scheme to ambush travelers had probably worked several times already, and they thought it would work forever.

They hadn't counted on a crazy drover like Addy to turn the situation on its head.  Bless the girl.  She had the courage of an Army Captain.

Unfortunately, while Roland ought to have had an advantage on range, he was no better set for this match than their opponents.  His rifle was not loaded with the .577 heavy cartridges it was primarily designed for.  Rather, he'd loaded it with short 24 gauge brass, a selection made to offset Roland's deficiency of aim.  He'd have to wait until they were within 50 yards before the shot-shell's seven pellets of #2 buck would have any hope of hitting a target. 

The seconds ticked by, and the Englishman was increasingly aware that his hesitation might be interpreted as some brand of cowardice and unwillingness to engage.  Still, he held off, not wanting to throw away a shot merely for the purpose of creating a favorable impression.

At about the time that the brigands came into range, they opened fire.  But they were on horseback, and coming at a good speed, and this was not conducive to accuracy.  Slugs impacted the ground just in front of poor Ember, who made a frightened sound but dutifully kept her place as his living sand-bag.

Roland rested his rifle against the side of her body, not properly accounting for the heaving breaths of the frightened mare.  He pulled the first trigger, and then chose his moment before pulling the second.  His initial shot boomed, and Ember shifted at the sound.  Only the angels in the heavens were in danger of being hit with that blast.

The galloping attackers slowed their approach, taking more careful aim now, a mere thirty yards away..  

Roland lifted his weapon from Ember's side and supported it himself, becoming more of a target as he did so.  He pulled the first trigger again, priming the weapon.  One of the brigands fired at him, and he felt a sharp pain in his neck.  I'll get one of you before I die, he promised himself, and pulled the second trigger of his rifle.

BOOM said the gun.

Three of seven pellets caught the point rider in the face, sending him tumbling off of his mount and crashing to the dirt.  The other two dismounted, apparently choosing to return fire from behind their own mounts.

Roland took a moment to lift a hand to his neck, wondering how bad it was.

Nothing.

No wound.  No blood.  He hadn't been hit.  

Phantom pain, caused by terror and expectation.

His gaze dipped to Ember, and he noted she hadn't been hit, either.  

Thank God, and all the Angels, and the Queen, too.   Maybe they'd make it out of this.

Putting both hands back on his rifle, Roland took aim, a prayer on his lips as he vowed to make the best possible use of his two remaining barrels.

Bongo Adelaide 'Addy' Chappel 

The wagon provided some cover, and the horses were well-trained to stand, but evens so, when the horse who's rider had been dislodged by Roland's shot bolted past them, they shifted nervously, and Addy had to duck to avoid the axle.  But the horses didn't pull, and she still had her cover that made it hard for the remaining bandits to get a good aim at  her.

Now, with the other two dismounted, there was a bit of a stand-off.  They couldn't get closer without their horses, and the wagon couldn't get moving again...

...Unless...

"Lissen up," Addy called, glancing at Roland as she reloaded her pistol, dropping spent cartridges out of the cylinder, then putting in fresh.  For now, she wasn't going to shoot just for the sake of shooting.  That didn't mean the bandits weren't shooting at them, though, not that it was doing much good as long as they stayed in cover.  "Can ya scoot on over here with me?"  It would be better for both him and his horse if he could use the wagon for cover, and now was the time to do that, while the bandits were trying to decide what to do next.

There wasn't long though, the men decided to rush them from either side, now using boulders as cover, and their aim was getting better, since they were closer, and able to shoot from a lower position.

"Dang!"  This wasn't good.  "Wait on 'em ta reload..."  She hoped Roland understood what she meant, for just then the man on her side of the wagon started the process, and it was now or never!  She just prayed that Roland kept 'his' bandit occupied as she lunged to her feet and charged the man closest her!

Roland's use of poor Ember as a bullet-stop was not the product of his own imagination.  He'd once seen a photograph of Her Majesty's cavalry practicing that same maneuver of shooting from behind their prone horses.  What surprised him now was that neither of the two surviving brigands had put any lead into his poor horse's hide.  He wondered if they were intentionally sparing the horse because of its resale value, even at the peril of their own lives.  

Either that, or they were poor marksmen. 

He shouldn't discount the latter possibility.  Even people who were accurate with tin cans in a peaceful environment could find themselves flustered once bullets came back at them from downrange.  Given how tenuous a grasp Roland had on his own bladder, such terrors were certainly no stranger to him.  These road robbers had seen their leader's face erupt in blood, and watched him tumble from the saddle.  Many people, when robbed, would prefer to hand over their goods in the hopes of having their lives spared.  Perhaps these bad men were bullies who'd never been seriously challenged.  

But here, in the middle of nothing, Roland had no hope of fair treatment if he surrendered. Whether intentional or in a panic, the foe had opened fire first. 

A friendly voice came from beneath the adjacent wagon:  "Listen up," Addy called out, "Can ya scoot over here with me?"

Roland had been taking aim with his rifle, hoping to shoot one of the men when they protruded sufficiently from behind their horse.  But he felt quite exposed out here, even behind Ember's substantial frame.  It would make him feel better to huddle with the bold Addie under her wagon.  He nodded, and began crawling over.

But in that moment, the brigands chose to advance.

They came in a circling of both flanks- to the left and to the right.  Abandoning their horses, they bolted to rocky prominences in the terrain, unleashing fire more carefully now.  A slug impacted the ground inches from Roland's prone form.  Their angle of fire was improving, and this was resulting in better accuracy.  Ember was no longer a viable obstacle to a deadly fusillade, even if these land-pirates had chosen to perforate her.

Addie delivered a curse, followed with, ""Wait on 'em ta reload..."

Roland nodded, "I'll keep their heads down best I can meanwhile!"  

The incoming fire had become too accurate for his taste.  Roland didn't lay the sights on either man.   He simply unleashed un-aimed blasts to the left and right, spending the last two barrels of his rifle to buy hesitancy.  It was enough to keep the enemy's heads down, and the men fired off return shots with poorer precision.  

Then there was a pause.   Surely the pause was caused by the foe reloading, as Addy had predicted.

He saw her scramble up to charge at the bloke on her end of things off to the left.   Roland leaped up and abandoned his rifle on the ground, charging his respective bastard on the right.  As he ran, he drew the Lancaster pistol from its holster at his hip.  Four more barrels, albeit with much shorter effective range.  The gun had been designed to shoot tigers off of elephants across the span of less than a dozen yards.  The distances in this fight were becoming similar, now.  Like the rifle, the pistol had dual triggers.  One to cock the internal hammer and rotate it into position.  The other to drop the hammer and fire a round.  Roland adopted a two-fingered squeeze, quickening the action of the weapon by pulling both triggers simultaneously.

When Roland sprinted around the boulder to where his foe crouched, the man spotted him.  The robber abandoned his half-loaded revolver and immediately came up with a long knife.  The steel was pulled with expertise from its sheath in a quick-draw that would make any gunfighter jealous.  Whatever this man lacked in acumen with his pistol, he made up for it now in his knife technique. 

Surprised by the sudden flash of steel, Roland backpedaled and stumbled, falling backwards.  As he fell, he pulled the triggers of his own pistol.

Thunder and Smoke.

Then a bright flash of pain, as Roland's head struck a stone on the ground.

Then... only darkness.

Bongo Adelaide 'Addy' Chappel 

"Hey...hey..."  Gently, Addy prodded Roland, then pulled up an eyelid, nodding as she released it.  "Yer still breathin', right?"

The man's final shot before he had fallen had hit the brigand square in the forehead, and he'd dropped like a sack of potatoes, which had been a good thing.  Addy had had her hands full with 'her' bandit, having fired the remaining bullets in her gun as she ran up on the man.  He had managed to avoid the first two, but her third caught him in the chest, blowing him back into the dust, where he lay still.

After confirming that the man was no longer a threat, Addy had turned her attention to the other side of her wagon, where she found Roland and the other outlaw only a few feet apart, neither man moving, one dead, and the other...

"Hey!  Smith!"  Kneeling in the dirt, she prodded him again, noting the lump at the back of his head, but finding no other holes or hurts.  "C'mon an' wake up, I can't getcha inta that wagon alone, yer gonna hafta help some here..."

Roland's eyes fluttered open, and he flinched at the brightness of the world.  

Blinking, he saw a blurred shape gradually resolve into the form of a woman.  Not just any woman, but the comely face of Adelaide 'Addy' Chappel, his wagoner.  Drover?  Coachwoman?  He could not, at the moment, remember the local term for her job description.

"I presume I have died, and gone to the afterlife, and you are my eternal reward?"  

But... no.  The pounding in his skull suggested otherwise.

"Or perhaps we survived, as this bloody headache attests."  He tried to sit up, holding a hand to the back of his head.  When he pulled the hand away and looked at it, there was a small amount of blood.   But no major injury.  He'd apparently been concussed in his fall.  His skin was barely broken, and his skull seemed to be intact.

Glancing about, he spied the fallen form of his foe, and his own hat and pistol.  The rifle was on the ground where he'd left it before his final charge.

"Huh.  I suppose luck will do as a substitute for skill.  I presume you similarly dispatched your foe?  With more aplomb, I wager."  How else could they be alive now to speak of it?  He studied her with bleary eyes, looking for signs of injury.  He couldn't see anything amiss, but his gaze lingered on her for some time.

Then, slowly and unsteadily finding his feet, he reached out for support.  "Forgive me, my dear... I'm a bit wobbly.  I should retrieve my hat and guns... and I suppose we need to do something with these damned dead devils?  Do we heap them onto their horses and bring them to the constables in Kalispell?" 

The idea of completing their journey in the company of corpses did not particularly appeal to him.      

Bongo Adelaide 'Addy' Chappel 

"I ain't no angel, if that's whacher thinkin'."  Addy smiled, offering Roland a hand to help him up, and then to steady him.  "Woah, there...c'mon over an' hang onta th' wagon, 'till ya get yer head back."  As they approached the wagon, she scooped up his hat and handed it him.  "Might not fit no more, yer head all swelled'n all."

Doing something helped to steady her shaken nerves, and there was a lot to do.  First, she retrieved Roland's rifle, setting it on the floorboard.  "We'll just leave these yahoos where they are, let Marshal Guyer know there here.  Might even be a reward."  If they could identify the bodies after the elements got to them.  "Don't got time nor inclination ta haul 'em, but we'll get their horses."  As she explained, she reloaded her pistol.

It would be a waste to leave the animals out here to fend for themselves, and Speed could figure out what to do with them.  Ember was where Roland had left her, standing now, so Addy got her first, patting her neck as she led her back to her master.  Next, she went around to the bodies, rummaging through their clothing for belongings that she'd give to Speed, in case they could be identified.  It was a grim task, but there was no sense leaving money, guns and whatnot just laying on the trail.

"One'a 'em had this."  Addy deposited the small pile of goods on the floorboard of the wagon, then handed Roland a folded paper that a face on it.  "Can't read."

Then she headed around to gather the men's ponies, tying them to the back of the wagon before taking off their saddles and tossing them in the bed.  She was hungry and tired, the stop would be welcome.