The Heir

Chapter 14

Uncle Cunningham lay in the street a few feet behind me. I rushed over. When I had hit the gun away, it was aimed squarely at his chest. I turned him on his back and saw a bloody hole below his right collarbone near his shoulder. I put my finger to his carotid artery and laughed from a mixture of relief and nerves. He was alive. I screamed for help as loudly as I could and ripped open Mr. Cunningham's shirt to see the damage. I used my wrap to apply pressure to the wound, which was not bleeding too badly. A boy ran around the corner.

"Please, help," I screamed. He ran towards me. "My uncle has been shot. Get the police!"

He nodded and ran back the way he came. Uncle Cunningham was out cold. Why did this happen? Something the gunman said echoed in my head: "I ain't after your money, old man."

"Oh, my God!" I muttered.

They wouldn't dare! I heard the would-be murderer begin to stir behind me. Anger flared within me as I rose and turned towards him. He was trying to crawl away. He wasn't going to get away from me. Looking around, I found the gun, grabbed it, and walked calmly over to him. Standing above him, I dug my heel into his spine and aimed the gun at his head. He groaned and turned his ugly face to see me.

"Sure you know how to use one of those, love?" I cocked the hammer back. His dirty smug smile wobbled for a moment but remained. "You don't have it in you."

I aimed to the right and squeezed the trigger. The bullet cracked a pacing stone, and the ricochet echoed down the alley.

"I'm from Texas, sunshine. You'd better thank your lucky stars that you didn't bring a shotgun." I cocked the gun again. All the color drained from his face. "Who sent you?"

"Don't know what you're talkin' bout."

"Who?" I screamed. I dug my heel in deeper.

He winced. "Someone I'm more afraid of than you, love."

"Was it Aberforth Hamm?" I demanded.

He merely turned his head the other way.

"Tell me!"

I heard the whistles of the approaching police. I was out of time. He wasn't going to tell me anything, not that he needed to. The Hamms had made their move, but it wasn't what I'd expected. Three policemen rounded the corner quickly. I raised my hands to show I wasn't the reason they had been summoned.

One of them took the gun from me. "We'll take it from here, Miss."

I removed my heel from our assailant's spinal column and rushed to Uncle Cunningham. He was still unconscious, which worried me. The one saving grace was that he wasn't losing a lot of blood. At least, I hoped that was a good sign. He couldn't die. I couldn't live this life without him. I had so much more to learn, and I'd be so lonely. For the first time, I saw how old he was. The low light of the alley threw his wrinkles into high relief, and his hair seemed grayer than ever. I was surprisingly calm, which Uncle Cunningham would have appreciated. Heirs could do anything. I prayed that included surviving a sucking chest wound.

The third policeman ran to flag down a carriage to take us to the hospital. The other two got the gunman to his feet.

The younger of the two gasped. "Blimey, it's Cory Jacobs!"

The other took a closer look. "You mean that old man took down one of London's most notorious criminals after he was shot?" Jacobs laughed darkly, looking at me. "No, she did."

The policemen exchanged confused looks. He continued to look at me, chuckling as they led him away. I stared back, determined to show that I wasn't afraid of him.