The Irish Devil Read Online Free PDF Page B

wagon’s iron wheel, turning Lennox’s pride and joy into a shattered wreck careening around the yard to terrify other animals and trigger more destruction.
    “Whoa!” William roared as Morgan and other men ran toward the disaster’s center. A quick glance showed Abraham vaulting into the side yard to crouch in front of the gunpowder barrels, poised to block any charges.
    Her wild lunges broke some barrels, pouring beans and coffee over the sand, and sent others rolling across the depot. Chickens squawked and flapped as a flour barrel crashed into their crate. The mare’s panic infected even the normally stolid mules until they began to circle and stamp restlessly. One of them brayed anxiously and another half-reared to avoid being trapped in the milling throng.
    William yelled again as he hurdled the buggy’s fragments and reached the mare. His strong voice with its message of absolute command made her hesitate for a moment, giving him the chance to grab her headstall. He glimpsed Lennox leveling his big Colt at the terrified horse.
    “Whoa!” William shouted again, shortening the word and deepening his voice to hold her attention. He put his full weight into stopping her next wild frenzy. Her four hooves hit the ground simultaneously but she still shuddered and tried to fight him. Her flanks heaved and foam dripped off as she fought for breath.
    He crooned to her in the old language of the bards, soft gutturals that had calmed Irish horses for millennia, a tongue that instinct and urgency made him use. She bucked again halfheartedly but her ears pricked to catch his voice.
    The men who’d come to help stopped and watched from a few paces away, letting him win her over.
    He murmured to her about the delights of her stall, a good meal, sweet water, the beauty of her gait, the sheen of her coat…all a stream of love words calculated to seduce a restless female as his father and grandfather had taught him. Finally she leaned against him, trembling, and he petted her gently.
    He’d need a bath when this was done, given the amount of horse sweat his clothes were soaking up.
    Satisfied, his men backed away and began to cut her free from the buggy’s remains. The debris quickly disappeared, while the corralled mules returned to their leisure. Abraham met William’s eyes for a moment before he began to smoothly clean up the coffee mug’s remains.
    William hummed old lullabies to the mare until she nudged him, snuffling at the treats in his pocket. He chuckled as she eagerly accepted a peppermint stick.
    “So you enjoy peppermints, little lady?” he laughed in English as he dug for another hard candy. Then he stiffened as a strident voice ripped into the depot’s hard-won peace.
    “The bitch shattered my new buggy.” Lennox strode forward, his gun at the ready. “By God, I’ll not have her near anything else of mine.”
    The mare neighed frantically and shied away, tugging at William’s hold.
    William blocked Lennox’s path, his free hand reaching for his bullwhip. Eighteen feet of black leather, shot-loaded to increase its impact and with a cane shaft for accuracy, it should be enough to snatch Lennox’s Colt from his hand.
    “Out of my way, Donovan,” Lennox ordered harshly.
    William didn’t move, as icy calm as ever in a fight. “She’s a good horse, Lennox, but unaccustomed to a depot’s hubbub,” he remarked calmly. America was gone from his voice, replaced by more than a hint of the upper-crust accent he’d learned on the Anglo-Irish Ascendancy’s great estates. He released the mare’s reins in response to Morgan’s hissed, “I have her, sir.”
    “Devil take her, Donovan, do you know how much that rig cost?” Lennox snarled. He took a few steps to his left then caught sight of the braided leather flowing restlessly beside William’s leg. Lennox stopped abruptly as William flicked the whip casually.
    “Actually, Lennox, I’ve always admired the look of your other buggy.” William kept