hard rocky ground just above the dock.
Clive had been a fairly easy opponent to defeat, but Dennison was proving to be more formidable. Gentry struggled to gain the upper hand, which was especially difficult with half of his attention directed at keeping the knife from stabbing into his body. Nevertheless, with much effort he was finally able to grab hold of a nearby rock and slam it into Dennison’s face. Dennison cried out in pain and dropped the knife, which Gentry quickly picked up and stowed in one of his pockets.
Blood was pouring out of Dennison’s nose and it was clearly broken. He was still writhing in pain on the ground when Gentry kicked him hard in the groin to ensure he stayed put. He could see Clive struggling to pull himself out of the river further downstream, but the redheaded man with bad teeth was clearly out of breath and Gentry knew he would not be causing any more trouble any time soon.
Gentry grabbed his satchel, which had been thrown to the side in the commotion, and started up the hill in search of Casper.
*************
Casper’s frantic strides had left deep impressions in the riverbank as the horse fled from the commotion. Fortunately for Gentry, this provided a muddy trail of hoof prints that made it easy to determine which direction the horse had gone. Gentry started down the trail after his horse. He was somewhat grateful that the horse was still carrying the bulk of their load as he was quite sore from his tussle with Dennison and Clive.
Gentry had walked about a half hour when he saw a little house in the clearing to the right. He made his way towards the house in hopes that someone there might have seen his horse recently. As he approached the house, he was elated (and relieved) to see Casper. An older gentleman appeared to be feeding him some carrots while stroking his head.
“Hello, sir,” called Gentry.
The older gentleman turned and eyed Gentry suspiciously, and then began to step away from him while holding onto Casper’s reins. Gentry was confused by this reaction until it occurred to him that his face was a bit bloodied and he probably looked quite disheveled.
“Pardon the appearance, sir. I…” Gentry paused, uncertain how to explain the situation. Ultimately he decided the truth was probably best. “I just fought off two men who tried to rob me, and my horse was spooked.” Gentry stopped his advances in hopes that the older gentleman might likewise stop his retreat.
His attention no longer focused on carrots, Casper recognized his friend and let out a series of neighs. “It is all right, Casper, I am fine,” Gentry explained, still careful not to move towards them.
The older gentleman looked at the horse and back to Gentry. “Well, he seems to know you anyway. He came galloping right to my door; he gave my wife quite a scare.”
“I am terribly sorry about that, sir.”
The older gentleman stared at Gentry for a while before he said anything more. “We may be outside the walls of Bartow, but you are not in the country anymore, son; you must watch yourself. There are all sorts of people in this town and you never know which are friend and which are foe.”
“Aye, sir.”
“I shall bring you a rag to wash your face.” With that the old man brought Casper to Gentry and walked inside. He came back out moments later with a rag, submerged it into the water barrel next to his door and handed it to Gentry.
“Thank you, sir.” The cold water stung a little bit but it felt good to be clean. Gentry handed the rag back to the old man.
The old man nodded and then turned back to his door without saying another word. It had been more excitement than he had experienced in many years, and he needed a nap.
*************
Gentry knew he was only about a half hour from the walls of Bartow, so he rode at a slow place to give his poor horse more time to recover from the stress of the river crossing and the commotion that had followed.
The Town of Bartow lies in a
Clive had been a fairly easy opponent to defeat, but Dennison was proving to be more formidable. Gentry struggled to gain the upper hand, which was especially difficult with half of his attention directed at keeping the knife from stabbing into his body. Nevertheless, with much effort he was finally able to grab hold of a nearby rock and slam it into Dennison’s face. Dennison cried out in pain and dropped the knife, which Gentry quickly picked up and stowed in one of his pockets.
Blood was pouring out of Dennison’s nose and it was clearly broken. He was still writhing in pain on the ground when Gentry kicked him hard in the groin to ensure he stayed put. He could see Clive struggling to pull himself out of the river further downstream, but the redheaded man with bad teeth was clearly out of breath and Gentry knew he would not be causing any more trouble any time soon.
Gentry grabbed his satchel, which had been thrown to the side in the commotion, and started up the hill in search of Casper.
*************
Casper’s frantic strides had left deep impressions in the riverbank as the horse fled from the commotion. Fortunately for Gentry, this provided a muddy trail of hoof prints that made it easy to determine which direction the horse had gone. Gentry started down the trail after his horse. He was somewhat grateful that the horse was still carrying the bulk of their load as he was quite sore from his tussle with Dennison and Clive.
Gentry had walked about a half hour when he saw a little house in the clearing to the right. He made his way towards the house in hopes that someone there might have seen his horse recently. As he approached the house, he was elated (and relieved) to see Casper. An older gentleman appeared to be feeding him some carrots while stroking his head.
“Hello, sir,” called Gentry.
The older gentleman turned and eyed Gentry suspiciously, and then began to step away from him while holding onto Casper’s reins. Gentry was confused by this reaction until it occurred to him that his face was a bit bloodied and he probably looked quite disheveled.
“Pardon the appearance, sir. I…” Gentry paused, uncertain how to explain the situation. Ultimately he decided the truth was probably best. “I just fought off two men who tried to rob me, and my horse was spooked.” Gentry stopped his advances in hopes that the older gentleman might likewise stop his retreat.
His attention no longer focused on carrots, Casper recognized his friend and let out a series of neighs. “It is all right, Casper, I am fine,” Gentry explained, still careful not to move towards them.
The older gentleman looked at the horse and back to Gentry. “Well, he seems to know you anyway. He came galloping right to my door; he gave my wife quite a scare.”
“I am terribly sorry about that, sir.”
The older gentleman stared at Gentry for a while before he said anything more. “We may be outside the walls of Bartow, but you are not in the country anymore, son; you must watch yourself. There are all sorts of people in this town and you never know which are friend and which are foe.”
“Aye, sir.”
“I shall bring you a rag to wash your face.” With that the old man brought Casper to Gentry and walked inside. He came back out moments later with a rag, submerged it into the water barrel next to his door and handed it to Gentry.
“Thank you, sir.” The cold water stung a little bit but it felt good to be clean. Gentry handed the rag back to the old man.
The old man nodded and then turned back to his door without saying another word. It had been more excitement than he had experienced in many years, and he needed a nap.
*************
Gentry knew he was only about a half hour from the walls of Bartow, so he rode at a slow place to give his poor horse more time to recover from the stress of the river crossing and the commotion that had followed.
The Town of Bartow lies in a
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