Storing Up Trouble, стр. 64
Thankfully, another man galloped into view, throwing himself off his horse and at the man Theodosia was now whacking with the book.
Relieved that Theodosia was getting assistance from a man who was evidently one of the Pinkertons responsible for keeping Norman safe, Beatrix spun around and headed after Norman. Racing down the street, she dodged carriages and wagons, until she spotted Norman a moment later.
He was no longer on the mule but lying in the street, one of the handkerchief-wearing men trying to wrestle a satchel away from him.
She stopped in her tracks when she saw the other man, one who was still on his horse, pull out a pistol and aim it directly at Norman. Fumbling with her reticule, she withdrew her pistol purse and took aim.
“Lower your weapon or I’ll shoot!” she yelled.
When the man didn’t lower his weapon, but instead turned it on her, she flipped out the trigger on the bottom of the purse right as a gunshot rang out.
After she lurched to the right, her relief was swift when she didn’t feel a bullet tear through her, but then the man took aim at her again, and she didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger, thankful in that moment that her father had had the foresight to make certain she knew how to aim and operate a gun.
Satisfaction was immediate when the man dropped from his horse and landed on the ground, reaching for his shoulder, where a small stain of blood was already forming. That satisfaction, however, was short-lived when the man jumped from the ground and began advancing her way, menace in his every step.
Raising her purse again, she pulled the trigger, horrified when nothing happened and the man kept advancing.
“Beatrix, run!” she heard Norman yell right as the man stopped directly in front of her.
“You!” he roared. “I should have known.”
Sweat beaded her forehead and began running down her face the moment she recognized the distinct scar running up from where the kerchief covered the lower half of the man’s face.
It was the man who’d tried to rob her on the train, the same man who’d threatened to shoot her then, and given the rage she now detected in his voice and the horrifying sight of him raising his hand and training his pistol on her again, she was all but certain that this time he would shoot her.
Norman broke free of the man who’d been trying to wrestle his satchel away from him and flew at the man threatening her, tackling him to the ground.
Norman and the man rolled over and over again, and then Theodosia was rolling with them, having jumped on the back of the man after he’d rolled Norman beneath him.
“Good heavens, is that Miss Robinson?”
Turning, Beatrix found Mr. Harvey Cabot standing beside her, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at the sight of Theodosia thrashing around on the ground. A second later he apparently came to his senses and leapt forward, pulling Theodosia from the melee before throwing himself into it.
Grappling with the man who was all but smothering Norman, Harvey planted a fist in the man’s face as Norman lumbered to his feet and dashed a hand over a nose that was now bleeding. He immediately turned to the man who’d been trying to steal his satchel, who was now bolting down the street, the mule Norman had been riding chasing after him.
“Give me your pistol purse,” Norman yelled to Beatrix.
Rushing to his side, she thrust the purse at him. “It misfired just a minute ago so it might not be of much help.”
Norman nodded, tossed his satchel to her, then was off, racing down the street after his mule and the assailant.
“He’s getting away.”
Turning, Beatrix discovered Harvey Cabot lying on the ground, blood smeared on his face, his jacket torn, and his trousers covered in the filth that littered the street. The man with the scar was already leaping up into the saddle of his horse, kneeing his horse into motion.
Temper flashed anew when she realized there was little chance she could capture the man since she was on foot, nor would the Pinkerton man be of any assistance because he was in the process of securing the man Theodosia had first subdued. Her temper soon turned to trepidation, though, when the scarred man turned his horse in her direction. Realizing that the man was after Norman’s satchel and would probably resort to deadly means to get it, Beatrix turned and bolted across the street toward Marshall Field & Company, hoping to find safety and concealment amongst the well-heeled customers.
Before she could make it to the front door, though, police whistles rent the air. When she turned around, she saw the scarred man racing away, apparently unwilling to face arrest, even if that meant leaving Norman’s satchel behind.
Ignoring the curious looks of the ladies who were whispering behind gloved hands outside of Marshall Field & Company, Beatrix hurried back across the street and found Theodosia helping Harvey Cabot to his feet.
“Ah, Beatrix, thank goodness you’re all right,” Theodosia said, releasing Harvey’s arm and apparently not noticing that he immediately began to wobble about. “I was so afraid that man was going to run you over with his horse before the police arrived.”
“The two of you all right?” the Pinkerton agent asked, appearing by Beatrix’s side with one of the assailants in tow, a man who now had his hands firmly secured behind his back.
“We’re fine, Agent Cochran, but Norman went after one of the men,” Theodosia said.
“Which way?” Agent Cochran demanded.
Beatrix nodded down the street.
Agent Cochran pushed the man he’d apprehended toward Harvey Cabot and nodded. “This is James McCaleb. He’s a habitual criminal and is known to be crafty, but I need you to see after him so I can go after Mr. Nesbit. Do