The Hired Hero Read Online Free PDF Page A

then suddenly shied to one side.
    Davenport let out an oath as his stomach gave an unpleasant heave. “Behave yourself,” he grumbled, tightening the reins.
    The horse pranced back, and suddenly Davenport could see what was making him behave so skittishly.
    “Good God,” he exclaimed as he quickly dismounted and knelt by the body lying in the middle of the muddy path. He  gently turned the person over and placed a finger on the side of the neck. There was a pulse, so she—it was a female, he noted—was alive, but she looked in far worse shape than he did.
    Caroline gave a low moan and her eyes fluttered open. Not six inches from her face was another face, a man’s face. The eyes were bloodshot, a black stubble bristled on his jaw, and raven hair fell wildly towards the shoulders of a worn coat. The odor of brandy was quite apparent.
    She gave a yelp and let fly with her good hand.
    “Ouch!”
     Davenport fell back on his rump, nursing a tender nose. A trickle of blood started from one nostril. He fished out a  rumpled handkerchief from his coat pocket and pressed it to the injured appendage.
     “Who the hell taught you to throw a punch like that,” he demanded in a muffled voice as he righted himself but stayed out of arm’s reach.
    There was no answer.
    “If you are bamming me and mean to plant me another facer, I’ll not be pleased,” he warned as he inched closer. “I’m merely trying to be a gentleman and offer some assistance.”
    Her eyes were closed and she didn’t move.
    Davenport took in the darkening bruises, the scratches and the nasty cut on her forehead and his lips tightened. “I wonder what brute it is you are trying to flee,” he muttered as he gathered her in his arms and remounted his horse.
    The day, which had started badly enough, seemed to be getting much worse.
    * * * *
    “There it be, down there. See?”
    The elegantly dressed gentleman craned his neck to peer down into the ravine.
    “Ain’t nubbody gonna walk away from that,” piped up the third man as he shifted his weight nervously from side to side.
    The gentleman said nothing. He stepped off the ledge and picked his way a short distance down the overgrown slope, stopping to steadily himself  against a scraggly birch tree.
    “Ain’t nubbody gonna notice them down there neither, leastways not for months.” The man who had spoken first wet his lips. “Yer gonna give the rest of the blunt now, ain’t ye? They’re dead, and that’s what ye said ye wanted.”
    The gentleman scrambled back up to the road. He reached into his voluminous cape and withdrew a heavy leather pouch, which he tossed at the feet of the two other men. They fell to their knees in their eagerness to retrieve it, nearly knocking heads. But their hands froze as two quick shots rang out. Slowly, each pitched forward into the mud.
    “You are right—no one will see the bodies for months,” he repeated softly as he tucked two long barreled pistols back into his pockets.
    Removing his cape, he dragged each body over the edge of the ravine and sent them tumbling down into the underbrush. Satisfied that nothing suspicious was visible from the road, he brushed some smudges of mud from his clothes with a grimace of distaste and retrieved his outer garment. He knew a nearby ostler who would be happy to handle the sale of two horses, no questions asked. Then he could return and take a closer look down in the ravine. The girl may be dead, as the two highwaymen claimed, but they had badly bungled the job.
    The dispatch.
    He had risked too much to see it slip out of his grasp. He would have it, no matter what.
    * * * *
    This time, when Caroline opened her eyes, the face she saw was not nearly so disreputable looking. The eyes were not bloodshot at all, but a clear hazel, narrowed with concern. A full beard, flecked liberally with grey, obscured the other features, save for a long, hooked nose.
    “She is awake.” The face turned to speak to someone else in the