“If Charles does try anything, I’ll have something to say to him. Now, Jason, I want to beat Charles’s consequences.”
Jason hugged her, felt her heart against his chest. “Yes, we will. Ah good, James is bragging on Dodger like the proud papa. He’ll keep everything under control whilst we deal with this idiot.”
The idiot was young, that was Hallie’s first thought, his clothes filthy, as if he’d slept in this field for a good two days before the race. Probably searching for the best spot from which to shoot, she thought, her hand clenching at her side. He was sitting on the ground, his back against the right rear wheel of Dodger’s traveling coach. Henry stood on one side of him, Quincy and Horace on the other.
Hallie stood over him, hands on hips. “Your boots are a disgrace,” she said, and kicked his right foot.
He looked up at her, eyes widened. “Aren’t ye a purty little thing, missus, all that lovely hair on yer head, sweet breath flowing over me, each word ye speak like bells chiming beautiful music. I appreciates beauty, so the beauty should appreciate me, don’t ye think?”
“No.”
“Now yer’re saying ye don’t like me boots?” He gave her a young man’s cocky grin. “Ye want to polish ’em all up fer me?”
“No, I’m going to have your boots pulled off and you’re going to walk over a bed of nails. Hot nails. What do you think of that?”
“Ye’re a young lady, I seen ye wi’ that fella over there. Now me, missus, I could show ye some real fun iffen ye’d—”
“Are you mad, you moron? Look at that fella over there.”
He looked. “Well, meybe not,” he allowed. “I don’t knows why I’m here. These bully boys grabbed me where I was taking me nap and—”
Jason said, “What’s your name?”
“I done forgit,” he said and spat. “I demands ye lets me go. I didn’t do nuthin’, I’m just ’ere to see all the swells.”
“Nice gun you’ve got here,” Hallie said. “Are you utterly stupid? Look at how dirty you’ve let it become. I’ll bet you Mr. Blaystock gave it to you all clean and primed, and yet—”
“No, tweren’t like that a’tal. I—”
“Mr. Blaystock gave you a dirty gun? He expected you to shoot a horse or a jockey with a dirty gun?”
“No, ’e—well, stick me thumb in me nose. I don’t know wot ye’re jawin’ about. Smart mouth on yer, missus, enough to make a man scurry to ’ide ’is privates. Listen to me, little girl, I don’t know no Mr. Blaystock. Who is this fancy cove?”
“You were going to shoot at one of the horses,” Jason said. “Were you aiming at any one in particular?”
“Dunno nuthin’ about it.”
Hallie went down on her knees beside the young man and grabbed his dirty shirt collar in her hand. “You listen to me, you miserable varmint, my husband is going to send you to Botany Bay. Do you know what that is? It’s a place halfway around the world that’s filled with strange bugs who burrow inside your ear while you’re sleeping and suck the blood out of your head—if you survive your voyage there. Did you know the sun is so hot over there that you’ll explode after a while? That is, if the bugs don’t drain you first.”
The young man had clearly heard of Botany Bay, and chewed his lips frantically. “I ain’t got that much blood in me ’ead to start with. No, no, missus, ye can’t send me there, ye can’t.”
Jason snapped his fingers. “You’ll be gone by Friday.”
“Think of that sun burning through the top of your bloodless head. It will shrivel right up.”
“I thought ye said I’d explode.”
“One or the other. It depends on the bugs. Now, which horse did Mr. Blaylock want you to shoot?”
“Jest the jockey, not the racer. Ye only has the one jockey, it’d put ye right out o’ business.”
“What is your name?”
He gave Hallie a sour look, shook his head.
She said, “Botany Bay. Friday.”
“I’m William Donald Kindred, the proud fruit of me pa’s loins, now filled with gin, not seed. I ain’t niver done nuthin’ like this, but ye see, me ma is real sick, me little brother too, an’—”