Gone to Texas by Jason Manning Read Free Book Online Page B

duello
required the principals to remain silent and aloof from the arrangements as made by the seconds, but tonight Christopher was in no mood to give even a moment's consideration to rules. "What insult? You bloody damned fool. If anyone should bear theblame for Emily Cooper's suicide it is you and your family, Vickers. You care so for her honor, yet you scorned her, because what she had done embarrassed you. You're a hypocrite."
    "And you, sir, are a scoundrel and a liar!" cried Vickers, the words thick with rage.
    Christopher shook his head and turned scornfully away, shedding his cloak and placing the garment in Bryant's keeping. O'Connor unwrapped the cutlass and tossed it to him. Christopher caught it deftly, tested its weight. The blade was heavier than the cavalry saber which he had become accustomed to.
    "No rules then," said O'Connor. "We can proceed."
    There was one rule, unspoken. Both O'Connor and Morgan were armed with pistols. As seconds, they would be obliged to use their weapons if one of the principals displayed cowardice. Christopher was aware that if he lost his nerve and tried to run Morgan would be within his rights to shoot him down like a dog.
    But he had no intention of running. In fact, to his surprise, he found himself quite calm and clearheaded. Adrenaline surged through his veins. His throat was dry, and there was a dull, persistent ache between his shoulder blades. But his hands were steady.
    "Gentlemen, if you are ready?" said Morgan.
    Vickers nodded.
    "I'm ready," said Christopher, his voice clear as a bell.
    Morgan, O'Connor, and Bryant backed away to give the combatants plenty of room.
    Vickers extended his saber, dropping into the swordsman's crouch, body turned sideways to his adversary, the stance wide apart and bent at the knees, his free hand resting lightly on his hip. Christopher batted the saber away with the flat of the cutlass blade.
    "Begin," said Morgan.
    Incensed by Christopher's insolence, Vickers sprang forward like a horse released from the starting gate,slashing with the saber, a mighty downward stroke that could have split Christopher from the skull to sternum—except that Christopher deftly parried the blow and stepped aside to avoid Vickers' charge. With a snarl of rage Vickers passed him, off balance, then whirled and struck again, this time a horizontal stroke. The point of the saber grazed Christopher below the ribs, ripping his shirt and slicing his flesh and stinging like a thousand angry fire ants, but he knew the pain was worse than the wound, which was superficial.
    The two men circled. Vickers lunged again, and Christopher stepped in to meet him. Steel rang against steel. Their blades locked at the guards, Vickers hooked a leg behind one of Christopher's and muscled his opponent off balance. Christopher fell and rolled to avoid the slashing saber, coming to his feet with an agile grace in time to parry another thrust. This left Vickers open to a blow to the face, and Christopher's fist landed solidly on the other's jawbone, driving him to one knee.
    "No rules!" shouted O'Connor, a reminder for Morgan's benefit.
    Vickers hurled a handful of sand into Christopher's face. Momentarily blinded, Christopher staggered backward as Vickers pounced like a jungle cat, seizing the advantage. Christopher blocked one stroke by sheer luck and then moved sideways, under another, gasping as Vickers' blade bit deeply into the flesh of his sword arm, above the elbow. An exultant cry escaped Vickers' lips. Christopher clutched at the wound as searing pain jolted his body. Blood gushed through his clawing fingers. Vickers pressed him, slashing with the saber again, like a man possessed. Sparks flew as blade clashed against blade. The two men pushed apart and circled.
    Breathing hard, Christopher blinked sweat out of his eyes. Blood had soaked his shirt and was now beginning to drip into his hand, making his grip on the hilt of the Tripolitan cutlass a precarious one. Distant