The Road From London

Hi all. I'm new to this great forum where people can share their stories. I just finished a historical, action/adventure piece set in 18th century England. Its a horse and carriage, highway robbery/damsel in distress short story. Hope you like.



"The Road From London"


London’s Outskirts, 1722

The coach jolted up and down the pot-hold road of London’s outskirts. A mile or so behind, outlines of tall chimneys and gabled roofs sat amidst ghostly puffs of fireplace smoke and the morning dew. Dalton blew into his palms as the driver beside him flicked the reins at the striding beasts, their hooves flicking up clumps of mud and dirt. He didn’t mind the chill air. In fact, he preferred it to the nauseating fragrances of the aristocratic dolls inside the coach—a smell that reminded him too much of those boring evenings at the king’s ball, where old oafs in fine clothes attempted to win the favor of petite duchesses half their age. No, he was better accustomed to being outside, keeping an eye for some devious highwayman or dubious scene on the road.

Although Dalton disliked the aroma circulating inside the carriage, he had no aversion to one particular female passenger. Rose was her name. The woman he was being paid to protect. Her father, Milton Cadbury was a diplomat in his majesty’s service and had hired him as a servant and bodyguard. Mr. Cadbury, being busy with official affairs in London and across the Channel, wanted to make sure that his daughter had watchful eyes nearby to defend her from Westminster hooligans or highwaymen on the road to Oxford, where the family had their country estate.

Dalton thought the road to Oxford was unusually bumpy. He had been on many other English roads, much kinder to a man’s bottom. He snickered when he couldn’t help but think of the bouncing bosoms of the four women inside the coach. Accompanying Rose on this country ride was her mother, Mrs. Cadbury. Also joining her were two close friends around her age. Their names were Ashley and Brianna, both daughters of Parliamentarians who often joined the Cadburys on their sojourns to the estate.

Of all these women, he thought Rose was the fairest. Her hair was the color of chocolate brown that was almost red when the light hit it right. She had soft, smooth skin with hints of color from her desire to take long walks outdoors. Her lips were an inviting, wine-stain pink, and her amber eyes hypnotic like a calm tide in the waning daylight. Her manner did not betray her looks, for she spoke with a soul and heart rare of someone her age.

“Dalton!” He now heard the driver’s Scottish burr. “What’s wrong with you? That’s the third time I’ve tried getting your attention.”

“I’m sorry Charlie,” Dalton said. “Didn’t get much sleep last night,” he lied.

Charlie was a warm Scot in his late thirties and served as the Cadbury’s stable-master and carriage driver. His square shoulders and stern face contrasted his typical humor with Dalton. “Oh sure you didn’t lad. Young man like you probably stayed up all night thinking ‘bout them pretty young ladies.”

“You got me there.”

“I thought you were being paid to keep an eye up ahead on the road,” Charlie said. “Lest we be running into some trouble.”

Dalton smiled. “You don’t tell me how to do my job, and I won’t tell you how to do yours.”

“Fair enough. I don’t doubt your work and know your mettle.”

They had been acquainted for several months now. Charlie liked Dalton, some fifteen years his junior, and they had no problems getting along. Charlie had no doubts over Dalton’s abilities. He had seen his skills with gun and blade first hand while traversing England’s criminal infested roads.

Dalton had taken a liking to Charlie’s attempts at verbal antagonism. He had gotten used to his tongue-in-cheek criticisms, which at first were hard to discern due to the natural roughness of his face. The two made small talk as the carriage sloshed through the wet mud and the morning wind collided with the defense of their thick coat-jackets. After some time, Dalton made out a shape blocking the road up ahead. It appeared to be the body of a young man.

Charlie tugged on the reins slowing the horses to a slow trot, and then to a complete stop a few feet before the body. “Is everything alright?” Mrs. Cadbury poked her head out the carriage window.

“There’s an injured man on the road Mrs.,” Charlie said. “Were going to see if he’s alright.”

“Oh dear,” she replied, her neck stretching to see in front of the horses. “I hope it’s not serious.”

Dalton stepped down from the coach, keeping a hand on his pistol. Charlie soon followed, and the two walked up to the body, which lay face down in the dirt, its arms at angles that covered the face. Dalton soon saw that it was a boy, for the build was slight and the stature short.

Charlie bent down and gently shook the boy’s shoulder. “Hey lad, you awake? We’re here to help you son.”

Kneeling down, Dalton helped Charlie turn the boy over when he realized his mistake. The face was not a boy’s at all, for despite the grime and dirt, it was that of a man’s. Upon being turned over, the small man pulled two concealed pistols from the belt beneath his coat and pointed them in their direction. The man grinned, revealing yellow-stained teeth with patches of brown decay. “You’ll both be droppin yer arms for me then.”

Dalton and Charlie instinctively held up their hands when the man pulled his guns. Dalton silently cursed himself for not pulling his pistol sooner as a precaution.

“Come on then. I haven’t got all day,” said the short man. Dalton gave Charlie a look, his eyes squinting a challenge. Instantly, Charlie bolted for the carriage. At the same time, Dalton darted in the opposite direction towards the side of the road. A shot was fired wide, just as Dalton expected. Pulling his two pistols out, Dalton crouched and took his aim as the short man made for the coach on the opposite side of Charlie. Dalton fired and dust kicked up next to the man’s boot, which reflexively jerked back as the shot came alarmingly close. Tucking his emptied pistol in his belt, Dalton went after the short robber with his other primed flintlock.

Now facing the other direction, he saw two riders galloping towards the back of the coach. One of them wore a thick black raincoat and went off to the right of the carriage, while the other, round and corpulent atop his horse, headed towards the left. The rider wearing the coat fired one of his pistols, the bullet hitting the ground in front of Dalton’s feet. Dalton whirled around behind the horses crouching a few feet from Charlie. The fat man rode hard up on their side of the carriage and fired a shot. Charlie buckled, his knees hitting the mud as he let out a cry. Dalton saw blood dripping from a wound in his leg.

After firing his shot, Dalton saw the fat rider wheel his horse around and draw his other pistol. Taking aim with his own weapon, Dalton fired in the man’s direction. His horse suddenly whinnied, fumbled its legs, and hit the ground with a thud. Dalton quickly reloaded his two pistols, his hands moving with calm swiftness in their work. He took two musket balls from a small side pouch on his belt. After ramming both bullets into the pistol chamber, he carefully primed the pans. He saw Charlie by the left wheel loading his own pistol clumsily. He heard crying alongside prayers of protection coming from inside the coach.

Splinters flew up from the wooden driver’s seat, and Dalton saw smoke rising from behind the horse carcass. Whatever these men wanted, it was not typical of a highway robbery. Dalton stuffed one of his pistols under his belt and reached for the rifle tucked next to the driver’s seat. He noticed the feet of the short man on the other side of the carriage; he was undoubtedly reloading his own weapon. Turning around, he saw Charlie had finished priming his pistol and said, “Watch this man on the other side.”

He heard another shot that hit the side of the carriage with a loud crack followed by startled cries from inside. It came from the other mounted rider who had missed hitting Dalton from his position behind the front of the coach. The dark coated rider fired another shot, and one of the horses let out a painful yelp. Dalton emptied one of his pistols in the rider’s direction but it went wide. He turned around and saw the fat man still taking refuge behind his dead mount. Raising the rifle slowly to his shoulder, he took careful aim and fired. He heard a loud grunt and saw the man fall back to the ground.

“Did you hit him?” Charlie asked.

“Aye,” Dalton replied.

The rider wearing the black coat galloped to the other side of the carriage, right up to the carriage door as the short man opened it and wrestled with Brianna in her blue dress. She struggled while the other women protested with shouts of objection and vain attempts at keeping her inside the coach. The short man forced her out of the carriage, and Dalton heard the rider, his voice rough and threatening. “Get on my horse, or I’ll shoot one of yer friends.” There was the clicking sound of a cocked pistol.

Dalton knew he had to act fast. He could barely make out the short man’s feet next to the horse’s as he peered underneath the carriage. He quickly glanced at Charlie who had his pistol at hand and gave him a nod in the direction behind the coach. Charlie nodded in silent comprehension. Dalton moved swiftly around the front of the horse team. As he came in view of the opposite side of the carriage, he saw Brianna in her blue dress finish mounting the horse behind the black-coated rider. Meanwhile, the short man was sprinting for a set of trees off to the side of the road. Charlie came around from the back of the coach, and quickly ducked as the mounted kidnapper fired a pistol in his direction. The dark rider turned his attention to Dalton and fired another misguided shot. Dalton ran back around the team of horses to avoid being hit. Wheeling the horse around, the rider took off, galloping away from the road, while Brianna sat bouncing behind her kidnapper.

Instinctively, Dalton pulled his saber and cut one of the horses loose from the carriage. “They’re getting’ away,” Charlie shouted. As soon as the words left Charlie’s mouth, Dalton charged his horse in pursuit, riding bareback with saber and pistol in hand.

The kidnapper’s horse was fast, but Dalton’s was just as quick, its muscles robust from pulling coach, luggage, and people. Dalton gained on the black-coated rider. Brianna glanced back, her face wet with fearful tears. The rider pulled one of his pistols and took aim. Dalton ducked low, ready to maneuver his horse away from the shot. The pistol cracked and Dalton pulled the horse’s mane to the right in attempt to dodge. The ball nicked his shoulder and he could feel fresh blood run down his arm. It was a stinging pain, but not the worst that he’d had. Keeping pursuit, his hand went to his saber that he had sheathed to better direct his horse with a free hand. He thought better of attacking the kidnapper with a blade in close quarters for fear of harming Brianna. Instead, he checked to make sure his pistol was still primed and ready.

The ground was thick with coarse grass, and the kidnappers horse began to lose pace. Dalton slapped his sword scabbard on his horse’s burly rump, and the animal quickened its strides. Soon Dalton was gaining fast, and came alongside Brianna and her abductor. The kidnapper pulled yet another pistol from his heavy coat, but not in time. Dalton fired his pistol with skillful aim. The rider slumped forward, and the horse slowed its speed. Dalton quickly pulled up to the horse and grabbed hold of the reins, slowing it to a trot. Suddenly, the hunched kidnapper lashed out and shoved Dalton away. Brianna, desperate to be free of her captor, jumped off the horse, stumbled a little, and ran towards Dalton. Giving up on his illicit game, the black-coated kidnapper kicked his horse and continued in his initial direction, this time without his hostage.

Dalton returned with Brianna to the carriage by the road. Another coach was parked alongside, its passengers consoling the distressed women and helping tie a bandage over Charlie’s leg wound. Rose was the first one to notice Dalton and Brianna return. The three women quickly embraced their kidnapped friend, consoling her in reassuring tones. After getting down from his horse, Dalton went over to Charlie. “Well done lad,” Charlie said with a smile. “I knew we could count on you. You saved a Parliamentarian’s daughter and surely impressed all the ladies. Either way you’ll be amply rewarded.”

“Just doing my job,” Dalton said.

“Mr. Dalton,” Rose’s voice seemed angelic despite the circumstances. Dalton turned to face her. “I cannot thank you enough for saving one of my closest friends.” She gave him a soft kiss. “More thanks will be in order,” she said and then went back to join the consolers by the carriage.

“You’re making progress,” Charlie said, smiling.

Dalton blushed.