Her Tender Adversary

Chapter Two

Damien Hunter pressed his .32 revolver against Michael Andrew's temple, freezing him in his tracks.
"Don’t turn around." Damien hissed in Andrew's ear. Damien saw the hair standing up on the back of Michael's neck. The night was moonless; the wood was silent, other than the shallow breathing of Andrews. It seemed that even the night creatures did not dare come out while this unknown predator was in the woods.
Damien pushed the gun more forcefully against Andrews, making the older man gasp.
"You seem surprised by my greeting." Damien said.
Michael cleared his throat, but could not hide the fear that laden his voice. "Are you...Damien Hunter?"
"Perhaps." Damien said, staying squarely behind Andrews. "Who're you? And why did you summon him in the middle of the night?"
"Michael Andrews." He stammered. Michael began to turn, squinting in the dark, searching.
"I said don't turn around. I don't want to kill you but I will."
Michael winced as the gun pressed harder against him, dimpling his skin.
"Don't bother calling for your henchmen either. They’re undoubtedly trying to untie themselves as we speak." Perspiration began to run down Michael's face. He reached toward his frock coat. Damien cocked the hammer back. "I said don't move."
"I just need my handkerchief. Damn humid here. Come from further west myself." Michael said, slowly pulling it from his pocket. Damien could not argue about the weather. It was warm for March, unseasonably warm. He knew it meant a hellish summer was in store for them.
Wiping his brow, Michael asked, "Is the gun really necessary?"
"Yes. What do you want with Damien Hunter? How did you know how to contact him?"
"Penelope from the Crow's Nest told me you were back in town. You really should pay her better to keep her mouth shut."
Damien closed his fists at his sides, the anger burbling to the top. He suppressed it and mentally filed the comment about Penny for later.
"It is known that Hunter is one of the best shots in the South. My commander wants to hire him."
"I work for no one!" Damien snapped.
Michael pivoted slowly to face the gun, his hands raised in the air, a smug look crossing his face.
"I'm to offer two thousand dollars worth of gold coins for an assignment."
"Two thousand?" Damien repeated. "All right. I’ll bite. What does he want me to do?"
"Kill a man."
Damien did not flinch. Michael studied Damien's haggard face. Damien had been riding hard for forty hours straight from Tennessee, stopping only to eat and change horses. He could feel the stubble that had been growing for days. His hair was dirty and he had not bathed in nearly a week.
"I'll do it." Damien said. "But not for less than four thousand."
"Double it? I do not have the authority to agree to a counter-offer. Especially one as ludicrous as yours, Mr. Hunter!"
"To have the best you must pay his price. My price is four thousand."
An exasperated look crossed Michael's face. After a long moment, he said "Mr. Hunter we have an agreement." He eyed the gun. "Now will you please put that away?" He nodded at the weapon.
"Not until I have the gun you're carrying."
Michael blinked owlishly at him. "How did you know?"
"I didn't." Damien answered brusquely. "Now hand it over!"
Michael muttered an expletive and took his single shot Derringer from his frock coat pocket, the same where his handkerchief had been. Damien grabbed it and shoved it into his boot, then holstered his own weapon. "Now talk."
The older man sagged in relief. "Your target is the elusive Alexander Wallace. We have already had one man fail. Earlier this week our man had Wallace as he left a known abolitionist's home on the Battery. He lost him in the crowd. It is time our man is replaced. We think you're just the man to do it."
Damien's eyes narrowed but he said nothing.
Michael continued. "Wallace has been causing trouble for my employer and he wants him taken care of."
Damien nodded slightly. "What kind of trouble?"
"The usual rousing of good Southern people, trying to drum up sympathy for the damned Negroes. It isn't good for my boss's image."
"And who is your boss?"
"That I can't tell you. He is an important man and has too much to lose were he implicated."
Again, Damien said nothing.
"I must tell you there is one stipulation to your contract, Mr. Hunter." Again, Michael met Damien's eyes, but did not look away from the menacing stare. "And this stipulation is non-negotiable."
Damien crossed his well-muscled arms over his broad chest. He towered over Andrews, standing over six feet tall and thick with muscle.
Instead of cowering, as most men were wont to do, Michael continued, staring into eyes the color of Spanish doubloons. "Someone else has also been contracted to assassinate Wallace."
Pulling Michael close by his shirt collar, Damien roared, "Forget it! I work alone!"
"Not this time friend." Michael said his face smug with newfound confidence. "It is our insurance policy that the job is done."
Damien pushed Michael away, disgusted that he let his temper get the better of him, his amber eyes narrowing. "I want to know who my partner is."
"It is not a partner. It is a competitor." Michael explained. "And it is better that you don't know. That way you don't go killing him to get Wallace all to yourself."
Damien frowned slightly but said nothing.
"Think of this as a type of duel, but whoever fails becomes the scapegoat." Damien's face remained expressionless. "Well I am finally dealing with a professional." Michael smiled. "I know you will need some time. Wallace is a hard man to track. We think three months is adequate time to finish the job. If you're successful, leave this with the body." Michael flipped a coin-sized wooden chip to Damien who put it in his frock coat without even looking at it.
"That is your proof for payment. Leave it under the body. Our contact will let us know who the victor is and then I will be in touch." Michael shifted nervously. "Remember, you will be tried and hanged for murder, possibly not in that order, if you do not succeed. Good luck and may the better man win." He reached out his hand toward Damien.
Damien accepted Michael's outstretched hand and crushed it in his much larger one. Michael winced. "Thank you. I will." Damien smiled. "And you remember this. Next time, don't hire drunken buffoons to protect you."
"Those two idiots can fend for themselves tonight." Michael said resignedly.
Damien touched the brim of his hat and walked further into the woods to Nero, his waiting stallion.