The Last Horseman by David Gilman Read Free Book Online

said.
    ‘Which some might consider a contradiction,’ said Belmont, and then smiled at Taylor. ‘Just kidding, Freddie.’ Belmont made his own introductions. He extended his hand to Radcliffe.
    ‘Belmont, 21st Dragoons,’ he said. His own disdain for the foreign soldiers was barely disguised. ‘My friend Taylor might sit behind a desk these days but he’s a crack shot. Probably the best, eh, Freddie? Silver Medal winner at Bisley in ’97.’
    The newcomers could not help but see Taylor straighten as Belmont’s compliment stroked his ego.
    ‘Congratulations,’ said Pierce.
    ‘You shoot, do you?’ Taylor asked.
    ‘Not at paper targets, no,’ said Pierce. And then, realizing that his comment could be construed as sarcasm, quickly added, ‘By that I meant that I haven’t shot for a long time, captain.’
    ‘But when you did,’ said Marsh, eager to bear-bait the conversation.
    Pierce held the man’s gaze. ‘I shot at my enemy,’ he answered.
    ‘I suppose... in your day ...’ He sipped his drink to deliberately let the insult settle. ‘...you would have used muzzle-loading rifles?’ His question seemed innocent but Colonel Baxter knew the cavalrymen were having sport with Pierce.
    ‘I’ve shot with Captain Pierce’s rifle. It’s a fine weapon. It can kill at fifteen hundred yards. It was used by buffalo-hunters in the American West. Incredible stopping power. Its rear sight gives elevation and windage, in the right hands of course.’
    ‘Not much big game roaming the hills of Dublin, though,’ said Taylor. ‘Perhaps too much gun to be carrying around?’ He smiled indulgently.
    Radcliffe caught Belmont’s glance. His friends were baiting Pierce. It was like a schoolboy game, and Colonel Baxter’s attempt to break it up had little effect.
    Pierce was no fool; he knew what they were doing. ‘It’s an 1875, fifty-calibre Sharps,’ he told them.
    ‘Ah,’ said Taylor, ‘near enough twenty-five years old. Can’t have bagged that many, I suppose, with a single-shot rifle.’
    Baxter was suddenly wary of the three cavalrymen facing his guests and he bristled at the implied insult, though he saw that Pierce and Radcliffe showed no sign of rising to the bait.
    Pierce shrugged. ‘You’re right, it’s an old weapon, but in my day I could load and fire fast enough.’
    ‘It is an excellent rifle,’ said Baxter. ‘Double trigger and elevated rear sights. And with a thirty-four-inch barrel it’s accurate at that distance. Providing of course the man firing it is skilled in its use. And I can assure you gentlemen that Captain Pierce is such a man.’ The music had stopped and the buzz of conversation and laughter around them did not seem to penetrate the circle of these six men. Colonel Baxter attempted to move the conversation on to common ground. ‘Captain Belmont is to command a raiding party to strike the enemy exactly as they strike us. Fast mounted troops who can move behind enemy lines. Major Radcliffe and Captain Pierce are retired Union cavalry officers; I thought, gentlemen, that you might be interested to hear of the guerrilla war they once fought.’
    ‘It was a long time ago,’ Radcliffe conceded.
    Baxter ignored the self-effacing comment. ‘And Captain Pierce was a Buffalo Soldier in the American West in their fight against Indians.’
    ‘Indians? What kind?’ asked Marsh.
    ‘Sioux, Kiowa, Comanche,’ said Pierce, sensing he was being drawn into a conversational alley where unseen danger lurked.
    ‘A worthy foe?’ said Marsh.
    ‘The best.’
    Taylor scoffed. ‘Hardly.’
    He and Marsh exchanged a knowing smile, but Radcliffe noticed that Belmont was watching them.
    ‘I had a bash at the fuzzy-wuzzies. In the Sudan. They’re not much good against cavalry,’ Taylor said.
    ‘Not when they’re lightly armed and on foot,’ suggested Radcliffe.
    Belmont took another glass of whiskey from an orderly. ‘Still, good sport,’ he said.
    ‘You might feel different facing a