Stanly Bromly Gentleman Adventurer 1 Chapter 4
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Stanly Bromly- Gentleman Adventurer(1)Chapter 2 free porn video
Stan got up from his easy chair, checked to make sure his robe was fully closed and tightened the sash, and went to answer the door. He had hopes of a beautiful woman, a vision of loveliness, being on the other side of the door. He always hoped for this, every time there was a knock on his door, but, as usual, he was disappointed.
Standing at the door waiting to be admitted was an elderly man, short, fat, and bald. "Must be a potential client," thought Stan as he invited the man into his suite. "I am Stanly Bromly. What can I do for you, sir?" Stan asked as he directed the man to a comfortable chair. "May I offer you a cigar and brandy?" he asked.
The man placed his beaver hat on the side table and accepted both offers. Stan got the brandy and offered the man a choice from his ornate cigar humidor. The man stared at all of the cigars before selecting one, though why he bothered was a mystery; all the cigars were as identical as it was possible to make them. The man bit off the tip of the cigar and spat it into the fireplace with the accuracy born of long practice. Stan held out a lighted brand to light the man's cigar, and, after a few puffs to make sure the cigar was well lit, tossed the brand into the fireplace along side the tip of the cigar.
Stan leaned back in his chair, took a sip of his brandy, and said, "I ask again, sir, what is your name and how may I help you?"
The man answered, "My name is Silas Grundy and I own and operate the San Francisco-Sacramento Stage Company. We transport passengers, mail, and express packages back and forth between the two cities. Lately, we have been bothered by numerous hold-ups which are beginning to affect our business. Too many hold-ups result in passengers being afraid to ride with us and businesses afraid to ship on our coaches. So far, the bandits have not touched the mail, but I wonder how long that will last. I have heard great things of you, sir, and I want you to stop these hold-ups."
"Well, Mr. Grundy, I shall be happy to undertake to resolve your difficulty. My rate is $25 per day, plus expenses, and the contract starts today. Is that acceptable?"
"Yes, Mr. Bromly, that is satisfactory."
The two men then discussed some of the details of how the robberies had been staged. Usually, the robber, always only one man, would block the road with a tree or a large rock and step out from cover when the stagecoach was halted to allow the driver to clear the road. The robber wore a hood or sack over his face to hide his identity and a white or yellow duster to cover his clothes. He carried a double-barreled, sawed off shotgun of what looked to the driver to be 10-gauge. In all of the robberies to date, the bandit had never fired the shotgun; he had always had the drop on the driver.
The robberies took place at different locations, so the driver never knew where to expect trouble. There never was a consistent day of the week for the robbery; the day may as well have been selected at random. That was all the concrete information that Grundy could offer, though he was full of conjecture.
After another half-hour of conversation, Grundy had finished his cigar and brandy. He got up to leave and Stan escorted him to the door. Stan promised to think on the matter this evening and stop by Grundy's office the next day with a plan of attack.
Stan thought about the problem and came to the conclusion that the only thing he could do was to ride in the stagecoach as a passenger and wait until a robbery occurred. He would then attempt to capture the robber or kill him if necessary. This was the plan he presented to Grundy the next day. Stan proposed to start the next morning riding back and forth between San Francisco and Sacramento until he had a chance to catch the bandit. Grundy agreed, so that's what they settled on.
The next morning, Stan showed up at the stagecoach terminal to board the coach bound for Sacramento. He was carrying a small overnight carpet bag which he surrendered to the agent to stow in the stagecoach boot. He was the only passenger to board that morning, so they started out exactly on time. Stan closely examined the country on the right side of the road, looking for likely places for a bandit to stop the coach. He saw so many such places that he quickly realized that there was no chance of catching the bandit by ambushing him by arriving first at a likely robbery location. With that realization, Stan sat back and tried to sleep through the rest of the trip. Several passengers were taken on and dropped off at various scheduled stops along the route, but nothing untoward happened during the trip.
This same routine was Stan's experience throughout the rest of the week and up until Thursday of the next week. Stan was in his Sacramento to San Francisco phase of the schedule when they were stopped by a large tree limb across the road. The driver stopped and got down to move the limb while Stan scanned the roadway for any sign of a bandit. The driver was busy pulling the limb out of the road when a hooded man stepped out of the bushes at the side of the road and pointed a shotgun at the driver.
The bandit was wearing the yellow duster and the cloth sack for a hood and mask, so Stan knew that this was the bandit he was particularly looking for. The bandit was on the right side of the road, so Stan slipped out the door on the left side. Fortunately, there were no other passengers at that time, so Stan did not have to worry about protecting innocents during the robbery.
Stan drew one of his throwing knives and ran around the back of the coach to hide himself as much as possible from the bandit. Since Stan was right handed, he was able to hide himself fairly well from the bandit by not walking out away from the coach very far to have room to throw his knife. The bandit happened to be no more than 30 feet from Stan, well within Stan's accurate range with his throwing knife.
Stan drew back his arm to throw and released the knife, aimed at the bandit's back just below his neck. This would have been a killing hit, but the bandit swiveled his shoulders just enough that the knife caught him in the upper left arm. This was not necessarily a disabling hit, so Stan prepared to throw another knife. But the bandit did the unexpected; instead of trying to shoot, he ran to his horse, mounted, and rode away. This infuriated Stan, because the bandit took the knife with him!
Stan had no way to chase the bandit, so he helped the driver move the limb and they resumed their journey. The next day, instead of taking the stage to Sacramento, Stan stopped by Grundy's office to tell him what happened and how he planned to handle the situation. Stan thought that the bandit's injury should keep him out of circulation for at least two weeks, so Stan proposed taking himself off the payroll for two weeks and taking a short vacation. Stan would be back before the bandit could operate again. Grundy agreed, and Stan bid him goodbye for the two weeks.
Actually, this was not a true vacation for Stan. He went to several gun shops before he found the Kentucky rifle he was looking for. It was obvious to him that he was not going to get this bandit with a throwing knife; he needed longer range. In his experience nothing could beat the range and accuracy of the Kentucky rifle. He bought the rifle and enough powder and shot for a lot of practice.
Stan packed his camping gear and took off for the great outdoors. Though not a fan of camping out, Stan was competent at it, so he was able to put up with the aggravation for two weeks while he became an expert with his new rifle. By the time he had to return to San Francisco, he was deadly with his .50 caliber rifle up to a range of 75 yards. He figured that this was more than he would ever need, so he was happy and ready to take on the next round with the bandit.
Stan was ready to catch the next stagecoach to Sacramento. He showed up with his carpet bag and rifle; the carpet bag was stowed in the boot, but he kept the rifle in the passenger compartment with him. The ride back and forth between San Francisco and Sacramento was getting pretty old to Stan by now. It was hard to get any sleep with the coach tearing down the road and swaying as they went around curves, all at a breakneck speed. The scenery whizzed by too fast to be enjoyed, but it would still be boring by the time it was seen a dozen times. Stan began to think that this was a hell of a poor way to make a living, but he couldn't think of anything easier. Being born the second son of a tidewater Virginia planter meant that he would not get much for an inheritance, so he did have to make his fortune on his own.
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