The Fall of York Ch. 40-48

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"I accept your apology, sir. I've met a few of that ilk, as well." Lawrence wondered if now were the time to ask about returning to York. He would have dearly liked to ask either one of the Lieutenants for further advice on dealing with this Major.

"So, someone insulted a member of your household?"

"Yes, sir. A militiaman said scandalous things about our maid. That was the young woman who served us food and drink," Lawrence added.

"That pretty girl? Such a shame. She seemed very demure and innocent. When was the duel supposed to take place?" The Major faced him and Lawrence spied a look of concern on the older man's face.

"Today."

"Hmm." The Major walked away with his hands clasped behind his back. Lawrence wondered if he had underplayed the moment, and then followed the older man back to where the Lieutenants were waiting.

"How is your horse, Jones?"

"Fine, sir. Lumley's is fine too, sir."

"Yes, yes." The Major walked past the two men and the horses. The Lieutenants smiled at Lawrence again and then raised their eyebrows. Lawrence shrugged. The Major looked up the road toward Kingston and then turned and looked back in the direction of York.

"Orr!" called out the Major.

Lawrence hurried over to him. "Yes, sir."

Pike stared down the road to York. "Deal with the cad. I'll let Sheaffe know that you're in good health and will reach Kingston as soon as you are able to."

"Thank you, sir."

The Major turned suddenly and put out his hand. Lawrence shook it.

"And good luck to you, sir," said the Major quietly so only Lawrence could hear.

Lawrence nodded and then walked over and mounted his horse. He saluted the trio and then rode towards York at a gallop.

47

John and Jacob stood with their backs to each other and with their pistols raised to their shoulders. Seeing the two men stand so close together lightened Abigail's conscience considerably. Average-sized Jacob would not have lasted long in a bare-handed fight against the massive blacksmith, John. At least with pistols he stood an even chance of surviving.

Reverend Strachan spoke briefly to each man and then joined Abigail. Much of the crowd stood on the opposite side of the pair of duellers. Mr. Croyden raised his hands for attention and quiet.

"I will count to ten!" he shouted. "At each count, you will take a step forward! After ten, you will turn and face each other! I will ask if you are ready! Then I will call for aim, at which point you will aim your weapons! When I say fire, you fire your weapons!"

Strachan leaned over to Abigail and whispered, "I reminded John that he will go to Hell if he does not make right his wrongs before he dies. With luck he'll keep walking after the ten count."

"And what did you say to Jacob?" she whispered back.

"I told the American 'God be with you'."

Mr. Croyden turned and glared at the two. Strachan waved for him to continue.

"Do either of you wish to remove yourself from this conflict for any reason?"

"No," the two men said in unison.

"Very well. One!" and both men took a step forward. With each number, an additional step was taken until the final digit was at last called out.

Abigail's heart sank as she realized how close both men were. Surely they must both die, she thought.

Jacob turned and faced his foe. John hesitated and then turned. Reverend Strachan let out a sigh between his teeth.

"Ready?" called out Mr. Croyden.

John mustered some courage. "Ready!" he bellowed.

"Ready," said Jacob in his normal speaking voice. Whispers passed through the watching crowd, as those in front relayed to those who hadn't heard the American speak, that both men were ready.

"Aim!"

John and Jacob simultaneously pointed their weapons at their foe. Abigail was amazed that neither one's hand shook.

Mr. Croyden opened his mouth to call out the last word, when unexpectedly there was the loud crack of a pistol firing and smoke billowed from John's outstretched hand.

"John!" shouted Mr. Croyden in an accusatory tone.

"It was a misfire! I didn't pull the trigger!" yelled out John.

"Jacob!" screamed out Millie in anguish, as she dashed across the Orr's yard.

All eyes turned to see the young man from America grab his chest.

48

Mud flew up from the hooves of Lawrence's steed as it flew along the road. Lawrence and the beast paid little heed to the danger of such a reckless pace. The rider sensed the need for urgency and he was driving the horse as hard as he could in the hope that he would get back to York in time for whatever was required of him.

There were ruts in the road, sometimes perpendicular to the direction of the road. The stallion paid no mind to any dangers that the uneven surface might pose. Lawrence knew that a sudden trip could easily mean the death of both of them at this speed, but he believed Abigail was in danger. And even if she wasn't, Millie might be and he felt a protective and paternal instinct for this young woman.

So, he pushed the animal as hard he could.

As he rode, the thought occurred to him that in the next few days he might be court-martialled out of the service for his actions. That thought would have been terrifying to him several months ago, but now he considered it of little importance. Whether he served as an officer in the King's army or not, he would be with Abigail and they had a future together.

That certainty that the two of them had a future together made him careless in his rush back to York. Lawrence refused to believe that God could have arranged everything up to this moment simply to have him break his neck a short distance from York.

On he rushed, ignoring the foam around the horse's mouth and the lather on its flanks.

*

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