“Now Jurgen,” Aubrey
began, shot her hand through the gate’s bars as fast as she could and grabbed
the man’s coat.
Aubrey pulled
him hard into the metal bars and drew one of her Manton pistols. Jurgen slammed painfully against the gate
with a grunt, his rifle pinned between him and the metal gate. Aubrey kept a firm grip on his coat and
pushed the barrel of her Manton under his chin.
The other three men behind the gate immediately leveled their rifles at
her. Her own officers responded by
aiming their blunderbusses.
 |
| "You seem like a brave man. Should we put it to the test?" |
This was a bad
situation, and could quickly go from stand-off to bloody in moments. If Aubrey had the time to send a message to
Rothchilde and assure him of her good faith, that would have been one thing. The night was already deepening, and she
could feel the danger in the air. The
pleasantries would have to be damned.
Aubrey smiled
innocently at Jurgen.
“What were you
at Cimarron?” she asked him. “A
corporal? You seem like a brave
man. Should we put it to the test?”
Jurgen starred
at her, but made no reply. She kept the
smile on her face, as if she had all the time in the world, but silently cursed
the man for his obstinacy.
“In the Empress’
name,” she said slowly, calmly and loudly enough that everyone could hear her,
“order your men to open this gate, or I will open two new holes in your head.”
Jurgen stiffened
and tried to pull away from her. Aubrey
braced her feet, but let him get a few inches from of distance before she
jerked him back against the metal bars a second time, rattling the ornamental
ironwork tops. She pushed the barrel of
her pistol up harder against his chin, so that he had to lean his head back.
“Can a dead man
pay your wages?” Aubrey hissed at him.
“Is it worth your life?”
Jurgen looked
down at her, and the anger and fear washed away.
“Open. The.
Gate,” Aubrey repeated.
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