The Guns of Two-Space (49 page)

Fielder groaned as she pushed him back onto the bed so she could pull his pants and boots off. The feather mattress engulfed him like a warm snowdrift. "Well, what in heaven's name did you expect me to do, Ursula? Bernie was coming up the steps, and I either had to go out the other door or shoot him, and it's such bad manners to shoot a man when you've borrowed his wife!"

Ursula t'sked, "Well, it would have saved me the trouble of shooting him myself. I mean, he was actually complaining about all the money I was spending! It's not like he was using it or anything! Oh, that's what
that
was! Do you still insist on carrying weapons with you everywhere, Daniel?"

"Well of course I'm carrying weapons. I'm
dressed
, aren't I?"

"Well, we can fix
that
! Why do you men have to carry those big lumpy pistols? It just ruins the lay of your suits! Well, you won't be needing these right now, will you?" she giggled throatily, as she gathered up all his clothes and deposited them neatly on a chair with his sword, pistol, and boots laid on top.

Fielder looked up at her as he lolled naked on the bed. Memories of their past experiences came back to him as he feasted his eyes upon her. Seldom had he met a woman so everlastingly eager beforehand and so inexhaustibly energetic in the event. "Come here, Ursula, it's not fair you get all the fun. My turn to undress you now!"

Ursula giggled again, as she moved closer. "Now, Daniel, not just yet. We have a couple of things to sort out first." She reached into her handbag and pulled out a small derringer, which had a remarkably large bore. "Say hello to my little friend, Daniel," she said sweetly.

Fielder's normally very strong paranoia, which had been defeated by a lack of proper blood supply to the brain, suddenly came roaring back, as the gallant reaction to a beautiful woman decided to go hide in a cave. The combination of lack of clothes, lack of weapons, and a very beautiful woman pointing an undoubtedly lethal pistol at him suddenly conspired to make him feel extremely naked. In multiple senses of the word!

"Now, Ursula, what's a little girl like you doing with all this here pistol?" Fielder hazarded, as he tried to sit up a bit more. "If you fire that at me, you might hurt me! And maybe break your pretty little wrist as well."

"Lay back down, Daniel, that's a good boy. You are such lovely eye candy! You silly boy, no, it won't break my wrist. It didn't hurt too much when I shot Bernie with it! And no, I don't intend to hurt you, my dear!"

Fielder sighed and started to relax, very, very cautiously. Maybe this was just some kinky fun?

"I promised to bring her a memento of you, but I just couldn't stand to
hurt
you, so I'll have to kill you first! Then I'll take her little souvenirs! You won't be needing them anymore." Ursula smiled at him sweetly.

Fielder felt his "souvenirs" suddenly try and crawl back up through his stomach and hide behind his navel. Come to think of it, he'd sort of like to hide somewhere too. Suddenly this didn't seem like one of his better ideas.
Maybe I should listen to Brother Theo a bit more,
mused the last tiny corner of his mind that was still somewhat unpanicked.

"Souvenirs, Ursula? I really don't like the sound of that!?" Fielder managed to say past lips and throat that had suddenly gone dry.

"Well, Madelia said you were just a common gigolo, and she wanted you separated from the tools of your trade, dear." She grinned sweetly at him. "But I stood up for you. I told her that you were never common, dear."

"Thanks—I think," Fielder replied faintly. Then he thought about what she had just said for a second.

"Madelia?" Fielder asked, astonished. "You mean Lady Madelia? As in the Sylvan princess Madelia?"

"Oh, yes, she's such a sweet lady. And you did so upset her, Daniel! Whatever did you do to her?"

"Besides not sticking around for her to kill me? Or shooting her in the derriere? I really can't think of a
thing
other than that!"

"Oh, no!" she gasped, starting to chuckle. "You didn't? In the arse? No wonder she's so upset with you! You naughty, naughty boy! If she hadn't been so generous with me, I might just have to keep you myself, and spend some time punishing you the way I used to! Especially after the way you ran out on me, and made me kill Bernie myself. Do you know how long I had to work to set it up so that
you
would kill him? Ah, well, it all worked out anyway." She gave that throaty giggle of hers again. Somehow, the erotic effect was ruined by the muzzle of the derringer she kept trained upon his chest.

"Well, I guess it's time to get on with business. I hate to bring in outsiders, but I'll need my bodyguard to come in and back me up for a second, dear. Just in case you decide to get uncooperative and end up needing more killing than my itty-bitty gun here, you know? But don't worry, I'm a pretty good shot, and if you hold still I promise it will be over quickly."

* * *
 

She will promise you more,
than the Garden of Eden,
Then she'll carelessly cut you,
and laugh while you're bleedin'!
But she'll bring out the best,
And the worst you can be.
Blame it all on yourself,
'cause she's always a woman to me!
 

* * *
 

The memory of Princess Madelia made him even more terrified, if that was possible. He looked desperately around the room and noticed a silver handmirror sitting next to the bed on the nightstand.

As Ursula turned to her left and glanced at the door, Fielder lunged convulsively at the nightstand. His motion was slow, or at least his perception of it was sped up. It seemed as if he had all the time in the world as he lunged for the mirror, grasped it and then aimed his throw at her face. Even if the natural flinch reaction could be overridden, Ursula's vanity would make her protect her most valuable asset!

He seemed to take forever to fall off the bed, roll, pivot and plant his right fist in her solar plexus while his left hand grabbed the derringer, wrenching it out of her grasp. He even had time to admire the scenery and appreciate what happened to all that adorable anatomy as his fist sunk in. Time suddenly returned to normal as he stood feeling the breeze from the open window curling around his exposed buttocks and other parts.

A hand pounded at the door. "Milady! Milady! Are you all right?" Fielder wondered what kind of unmitigated idiot would knock on a door of someone he was supposedly bodyguarding, instead of just bursting in. Then he remembered some of the sessions that he had enjoyed with her in the past and decided that it might just be common sense. It was just as well, since it gave him time to...
exit, stage left!
 

Fielder raced to his clothes and put his hand on his pistol, looking over at Ursula. She deserved it, but in her own sweet poisonous way, she wasn't really mad at him, it was just business.
Besides,
he thought,
cold-blooded murder of a helpless woman might be a trifle hard to explain to a magistrate...
 

He grabbed his pants, intending to put them on, when the bodyguard started to break down the door, and from the voices outside the door, it appeared that Ursula's goon now had some reinforcements.
No time to get dressed!
He snatched up the pile of clothes and weapons and headed toward the window, naked. As he passed Ursula, who was still trying valiantly to catch her breath, he quipped, "Don't bother looking in the mirror, Ursula! You won't like what you see!" It was a poor attempt at humor, but it felt good to be dishing it out for a change.

He dove out the window before he could translate her reply.
Something tucker? Oh, well, not that important anyway,
he snickered as he swarmed down the fire escape cheerfully, still naked as a jaybird, holding onto his bundle of clothing with a death grip.

The first thing he noticed was that the rain had finally stopped. Then his worldview took a sudden shift as he realized he had just dropped into a busy alley filled with clotheslines, housewives, and pedestrians, most of whom were aghast at the sight of a nude man, carrying his clothes, coming down a fire escape!

"Pardon me," he said, nodding graciously to an elderly lady passing by, as he dropped his clothes to the ground and pulled his pants from the pile.

"Get that bastard!" gasped a female voice from above him, followed by a very authoritative
BANG!
and the
SPAAANG!
of a ricocheting bullet.

Safety over clothes,
Fielder decided as he swept up his possessions and tried to set a record for the nude hundred-yard dash down the alley, bursting through clotheslines in every direction. Behind him he could hear Ursula and her henchmen scrambling down the fire escape.

"Doesn't that woman know when the fun's over?" Fielder gasped to himself as he ran for the first corner he could find.

Fielder, naked (if you didn't count being festooned with bits of brightly colored clothing and dainty undergarments draped about him like holiday bunting), left the alley and ran gasping through an even more crowded street, followed shortly by Ursula and her minions.

"That's right sweetie," cackled an elderly granny as Ursula and her "girls" bounced past. "You go git 'im. There's lots o' good times left in that one, it's plain ta see."

"I'll get him all right!" gasped Ursula.

Fielder poured on a burst of speed, thinking that if he got out of this he should consider spending more time working out with the marines. Running through the streets was obviously not his forte! Especially naked!

After a few blocks, quite a few alleys and one cul-de-sac that nearly gave him heart failure, Fielder managed to avoid the hue and cry and get his clothes (and weapons) on and (mostly) properly arranged. It was amazing how much better, clothes (and a properly prepared .45) could make you feel about your place in the world.

I wonder if Ursula will ever forgive me for messing up her little business arrangement with Madelia?
he ruminated as he rounded a corner and hailed a passing cab.

"The Laughing Dog Tavern, sir. Quickly, if you please, I find I have extreme need of a drink or ten!"

The driver shrugged suspiciously and flicked his whip over the horses. You got all kinds of toffs in this city. Even disheveled, wild-eyed Navy officers with lipstick on their faces.
I jist hope ta hell the bastard tips well!
he thought darkly.

* * *

She is frequently kind,
and she's suddenly cruel.
She can do as she pleases,
she's nobody's fool!
But she can't be convicted,
she's earned her degree.
And the most she will do,
is throw shadows at you,
But she's always a woman to me!
 

* * *
 

Fielder sauntered casually into the Laughing Dog. At least on the surface he was sauntering, but (like a duck moving serenely above the water and paddling like hell underneath) he was actually operating in the red zone of awareness, extremely alert and massively paranoid of anyone and everything in the area. The
Fang
's first officer was old friends with fear and paranoia, those poor sisters of sweet madness, who knocked loudly upon his door at moments like this.

After a few minutes thinking in the cab, (not something he wanted to waste liberty time on, but highly conducive to survival when a lovely mercenary tries to shorten your life), he knew that if Maddy had hired Ursula, then it was very likely that she had hired others on Show Low to make life interesting (or shorter, or both) for the
Fang
s on shore leave. Definitely
not
a good situation, don'tcherknowoldboy. Not to mention, it ruined the first good liberty they had had in ages!

So, in addition to operating in the advanced stages of paranoia and fear, Fielder was also beginning to develop one hell of a mad-on! Or as many a wise man had noted over the years, getting between: a) a sailor just in from sea who wanted wine, women, and song and, b) the aforementioned wine, women and song... was really
not
a good idea! It tended to have painful consequences for the interruptee.

While Baronet Daniello Sans Fielder, lately known as Lt. Daniel Fielder of her Majesty, Queen of Westerness' Navy, might not be a brave soul, fearless and spoiling for a fight, he was quite capable and competent when he had to fight, and nobody ever said being scared was detrimental in a fight. Panic: bad. Fear: good! Fear kept you from doing stupid things, panic
made
you stupid.

And right now, for some reason, Fielder was feeling very frightened, very put upon, and very paranoid. And very, very frustrated.

Damned woman could have at least have finished with our business before she got onto the mercenary routine,
he thought resentfully as he walked into the tavern.

Fielder was relieved to see that Melville and Hayl were still at their table, as well as his monkey. As he came up to them, he was fixed by the stares of five pairs of eyes. Well, four actually. Upon seeing his arrival, Fielder's monkey turned around and presented its back to him.

"Captain Melville, you have no idea how happy I am that you're still here," Fielder said as he flopped into the closest seat that had its back to the wall.

"Daniel!" replied Melville cheerfully. "I must admit I hadn't expected to see you for a while longer. The, uh, lady you departed with seemed to have extensive plans for you."

"Plans? You could say that. But I really didn't want to stick around for them. I need a drink first! I really, really need a drink!"

Hayl looked at him and pushed over a pitcher. "Try this, sir. They make a
great
micro-brewed root beer!"

Melville grinned. "I think Lt. Fielder might want something a bit stronger, Mr. Hayl." He pushed a bottle toward Fielder. "Brandy? And then perhaps your story?"

Hayl's and Melville's monkeys both appeared to find the situation humorous. Fielder's monkey, on the other hand, was sitting on the middie's shoulder and seemed fascinated by the wall behind the table.

Fielder poured a glass of brandy down his throat and looked up in surprise. "Damn, Captain, why didn't you tell me this was the good stuff! It's a sin to let me go gulping this down like that!" He shook his head and poured another glass from the bottle.