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And as they grew quiet, they could hear my wife groaning in pain, anguished pain.Wendy leaned over. I could see clearly that this person did not simply want to pin someone, let alone Mary, but to deactivate, disable, remove, someone, the challenger, from the competition. Forever. Wendy was twisting Mary's leg, as if she wanted to pull it away.I tried to go again, but Charleen held me back. "She will be okay, dear."My eyes rolled to her. "You stupid bitch! My Mistress is going to lose her leg!"Charleen, so kind but forceful, backhanded me, casually. "Maybe, but I don't think so. And you will pay later for that."And Charleen was right. Suddenly, with the experience of all the training that Charleen had forced into her, Mary did something that I can only say was a sit-up head bash.Their heads connected, Wendy fell back and Mary rolled over on top of her. She could have simply pinned her. But she didn't. Instead, my wife bashed Wendy's head into the padding twice and then looked at me.. She kept her eyes up, straight ahead, as I noted my handiwork, my very efficient killing, no wasted motions or powder.My tired horse had finally gone lame, and I was trudging along afoot when she stopped her light wagon and offered me a ride to the next village. She was carrying a load of small kegs, whisky I assumed from the smell. She was a big-boned, long-legged woman wearing dark, heavy homespun and a knitted shawl as well as very plain and sturdy boots. Her hair was tied back, and her hawk-nosed face radiated humor and confidence. I doubt that many women would have offered a man as big and dirty as I was a ride.I clambered up beside her after stowing my rifle, blanket roll and small kit in the bed of her rig. She offered me her hand and said her name was Fidelia. I introduced myself and told her I was a Continental soldier on the way back to join my company. We talked to pass the time; weather, roads, horses, food - the usual things. She said she had visited Ninety-Six once, and.
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