Pitchfork Annie

35

Though Arthur Shipton presented himself as a gentleman, with all the trappings and demeanour that came with it, he was most assuredly not. Despite the finery, the opulent surroundings, now ruined due to the fight that had occurred here, and the obvious wealth he had accrued, Shipton had come from far more lowly, crude stock. No more evident than in this moment, where he removed his lush coat, folding it and laying it over the back of the chair he had sat upon, and rolled up his shirt sleeves, revealing thick, muscular arms replete with tattoos and scars.

He and Annie stared at one another. Shipton with an amused air about him, Annie with quiet determination. She held within her great skill and strength for someone of such a lithe appearance, but she now faced a man that had allowed himself to become a monster, evidenced by the two, pointed teeth that protruded, only a slight, from beneath his moustache adorned lip.

"Now, this here is not a fair fight, young lady. Why, I am unarmed." He held his arms out to the side, knowing full well the advantages he held in both strength and resilience. "What say we solve this amicably, like civilised folk? I have, in this very room, enough cash money to set both you and Mr Pierce up for life. All you have to do is walk out that door."

"You murdered the Potter family and I'll see you dead for that alone." Annie moved, circling around the bodies of Shipton's henchmen, each with a bullet hole to the head, or a face unrecognisable from shotgun wounds. "You ain't got no right to live and I aim to redress that unholy mistake."

"I don't even remember no 'Potter' family!" For the first time, some look other than amusement crossed his features. He scowled, anger emerging. "Hell! You could as well recite the names of a dozen families and it would mean less than nothing to me. I ..."

Before he could finish speaking, Annie launched herself forward, aiming the tines of the pitchfork toward Shipton's chest. He avoided that with some ease, swatting the head of the pitchfork to the side, but Annie gave him no time to settle, or to return to his speech. Using the momentum he gave by knocking the pitchfork aside, she spun on her heel, her elbow rising as she returned to face him, smashing into his chin.

That only served to infuriate Shipton. His hand reached out, grabbing Annie by the throat and lifting her bodily, before slamming her down to the waxed and polished floorboards beneath her. Henry, held almost insensate since seeing Annie confronting Shipton, began to move, only for Annie's head to snap toward him, her lips pursed in pain, a wild shake of the head causing Henry to pause.

Shipton towered above the woman that Henry had come to respect greatly, hands curled into large, heavy fists. He reached down, only to be met by Annie's boot to his knee. Even with the strength of a Murcie, it did not save his knee from cracking, bringing him down to one knee, in the exact correct place for Annie to spin her pitchfork in an arc, striking Shipton in the temple. As he fell to the floor, Annie scrambled back to her feet, nursing her ribs to one side.

As she raised her pitchfork, ready to thrust it into Shipton's brain, the man grabbed the nearest body to him, and, with an almost casual flick of the wrist, tossed it toward Annie, sending her and the body crashing back against the wall of the house ravaged by the bullets from earlier. She and the body landed in a heap, arms and legs entangled, her eyes flickering open and closed.

Henry couldn't allow it to end like this. He rushed forward, jumping onto the back of Shipton and began to pummel his fist into the man's face, but it did nothing but enrage the man even more. He reached behind him, catching hold of Henry's jacket with both hands and dragged Henry from his back, slamming him into the floor. But Henry had done enough. Even as he fought to remain conscious, he saw Annie step over him, thrusting her pitchfork as she moved.

Shipton didn't move. He allowed her to pierce his chest with the metal prongs of the pitchfork and it failed to even slow him down. With a twist of his body, he wrenched the pitchfork from Annie's hands, tearing it from his body and throwing it far across the room. In the same movement, he grabbed Annie by the throat once more, pushing her down to the floor and pressing his great weight upon her.