3 Highwayman Meets Angry Woman

Charlotte was angry. Very angry.

She, in fact, couldn't think of a time that she had been angrier. She pondered her options, nestled, at least for the moment safely in the cocoon of the curtained carriage. Charlotte tried to remember exactly what had been packed in the small bits of storage available inside the carriage.

Then she recalled they'd packed her father's ancient blunderbuss in the carriage. She had been taught to shoot with a flintlock pistol by her loveable albeit often cranky butler, Wolfington, but a blunderbuss was another matter entirely.

Now Charlotte peered around the darkened cabin of her coach. She tried to remember exactly where the blunderbuss had been stowed. Finally, she remembered, it had been just beneath her bum the whole time. She kneeled to search for it, discretely tucked behind some baskets of various things from Charlotte's bedroom. Her hand finally felt the cool metal of the barrel, which she grasped and lugged toward her. It was quite a heavy weapon, especially for a petite woman like herself. But, it was all she had.

Now, she had to find some sort of ammunition. The good thing about a blunderbuss is you could put just about anything in the barrel and it would be propelled with great force. She prayed that she wouldn't actually have to fire it. God willing, she wouldn't actually have to shoot the bastard that currently held James, her driver at gunpoint. Hopefully, the sight of an enraged female wielding a deadly blunderbuss would be enough to frighten him off.

Charlotte considered her options of ammunition. She didn't think a ball of yarn would be very effective so she scanned further until her eyes landed on her family silver. She thought it was a shame to possibly damage something precious to her family but at a time like this, she couldn't think of another option.

She quickly opened the small leather case that contained the finely polished silver, elegantly adorned with her family crest. She grabbed a handful of forks, a couple of knives and rose from her knees. She paused for a moment to take a deep breath, and to load the barrel of her weapon with its makeshift ammunition. She made the sign of the cross and made her way to the carriage door to unbar it and make her move.

She swung the door open and decisively wielded her weapon at the masked man who had dared to stop her carriage on the road. This, he would regret, she would make certain of that. At the very least she was not going to lose anything or anyone without a hell of a fight.

Charlotte eyed the man currently barking orders at James with an icy glare. She had never been so aggravated in her entire life at any human being.

"STOP!" she screamed with gusto.

The man turned toward her and everyone in her party turned her way, eyes wider than she knew they could even open. In spite of the hilarity of the image of her traveling parties visages, she maintained her cold, hard gaze.

"If you wish to remain among the living, sir, I would ask that you immediately retreat and leave my driver at the instant," Charlotte virtually roared.

The man had the audacity to smirk in her direction. Charlotte could hardly maintain her composure at his apparent humor in, what was to her, such a dire situation. At his smirk, she very steadily raised the hilt of the blunderbuss to her shoulder. She was not afraid to fire. While she hadn't wielded this particular weapon, she had been quite astute at firing the pistols she'd been taught to shoot with. She had no fear of firing this weapon, though she didn't wish to kill a man, she would if it meant keeping her makeshift family and herself safe.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, miss," the man had the boldness to state.

At that, Charlotte stalked down the carriage steps, never lowering her weapon, and made her way to the rough ground. If that scoundrel made another move or opened his impertinent mouth one more time, she swore she would shoot him.

"Have you ev...." the man had started to say.

From Charlotte's area, a massive BOOM erupted. She had fired the blunderbuss. The recoil was so fierce, unfortunately, that Charlotte ended up in an unladylike heap at the foot of the carriage steps. Her precious silverware had flown in just about every direction. Unfortunately, one measly fork had struck the obnoxious highwayman in the thigh. At least it had embedded itself so far that the tines of the fork had disappeared.

Charlotte could hear nothing but the rest of her party could hear a very unmanly shrieking coming from the recently assailed man who'd been impaled by Charlotte's distinctive family flatware.