Storing Up Trouble, стр. 2
Forcing herself to meet the man’s gaze, she refused a wince when she detected a hefty dose of temper in his eyes. “You’re more than welcome to the contents of my bag if you’ll allow me to keep the bag because, as I mentioned, it has no monetary value.”
“If it’ll stop you arguing with me, fine, keep the bag, but get on with it. Hand over all the contents, and fast-like. I ain’t got all day.”
“I’d be a lot faster if I could empty my bag without that pistol distracting me.”
Thankfully, the man took a step away from her, even as he began muttering something about “peculiar women” under his breath. Ignoring the mutters, Beatrix fumbled with the contents of her bag, throwing them into the leather satchel the robber was thrusting her way.
In went a lovely handkerchief that had taken her hours to embroider, an oatmeal cookie that the Waterbury cook had slipped into Beatrix’s bag in case she got hungry, two pencils, one half-eaten apple she’d forgotten to throw out, one lone earring, three pennies, two nickels, one folded-up slip of paper, and . . .
“Don’t think you can fool me by handing over such rubbish,” the man snapped, causing Beatrix to jump. “I’m only interested in your money, and not the measly coins you’ve found so far.”
“You said you wanted the contents of my purse, so that’s what I’ve been giving you.”
“Get to the good stuff.”
Rooting around her bag, Beatrix stilled when she discovered an object lingering at the bottom of her reticule, something she’d completely forgotten about, but an object that could very well put a rapid end to the unfortunate situation currently taking place. Struggling to control nerves that were now jangling, Beatrix pulled out a deceptively innocent-looking rectangular coin purse.
Flipping open the side that held her pin money, she riffled through the accordion compartments, dumping all the change directly into the satchel. After every last cent was gone, she drew out the few bills nestled against the side of the purse, the bulk of her money safely stowed away in a special pocket in the waistband of her traveling gown.
“There you go. That’s all my money.”
“What ya got stashed on the other side of that purse?”
Turning the coin purse over, Beatrix flipped out a trigger that had been expertly concealed against the bottom of the purse, leveling the purse on the man with a hand that was surprisingly steady, even though she was well aware that she’d just put herself in certain peril.
“This is what’s called the Frankenau Pistol Purse, and what’s stashed on this other side is a clever five-shot pinfire revolver, one that, as you can see, is trained on you.”
The man’s brow furrowed. “You say you got a pistol in there? I don’t believe you.”
“Shall I pull the trigger to prove it?”
“You ain’t got the nerve, even if there is a pistol in that purse. You’re a woman, and everyone knows that women ain’t got the stomach for shooting a—”
Whatever else the man had been about to say got lost when there was suddenly a loud thud, and then the man crumpled to the ground, his pistol and the leather satchel falling from his hands. Glancing up, Beatrix discovered a gentleman standing a few feet away from her, holding a colored glass bottle that still had some water swishing around in it.
For the briefest moment, she merely gawked at the man.
He was unusually tall and his shoulders seemed to be broad, although it was difficult to say with any certainty because his jacket was baggy and ill-fitting. Long brown hair was sticking up in a most unusual fashion all over his head and looked as if it hadn’t seen a comb in weeks. His eyes were an icy shade of blue, and his nose, though rather normal, was slightly red on the end, as if he were recovering from a cold.
That this gentleman had been the one to take down the man depriving her of her possessions took Beatrix completely aback. She’d certainly noticed him over the hours and hours they’d traveled together, since he’d been sitting only a seat away from her, but not once had she seen him speak to any of the other travelers on the train, instead preferring to spend his time buried in paperwork.
Frankly, she was surprised he’d even realized the train was being robbed, and . . .
“That was one of the most foolish actions I’ve ever witnessed in my life, especially from a woman” were the first words out of the gentleman’s mouth. “If you’d only taken my advice from the start, I imagine the man would already be on his way instead of lying here unconscious, which is certain to cause us all sorts of trouble.”
Beatrix drew herself up. “I don’t recall you extending me any advice.”
“I told you to give up your bag—advice you clearly didn’t heed—instead deciding to take down the man with your purse.” The man gave a shake of the bottle he was still holding. “You’re fortunate I had the presence of mind to render this man senseless with this because I’m convinced that if I’d not acted, he would have called your bluff—right before he decided to shoot you because you were definitely testing his patience, something that’s not advisable when dealing with a train robber in possession of a seemingly well-used pistol.”
Any thought of thanking the man for his timely assistance disappeared in a flash. “Why would you think I was bluffing?”
“You’re a woman, and everyone knows that women aren’t possessed of the qualities needed to shoot a person—qualities like steady nerves and the actual ability to fire a pistol with accuracy.”
“Given how close I was to the man, I hardly believe that I would have been anything other than accurate.”
“And I believe that there was a