To Love A Wild Irishman

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Finnegan ducked quickly, managing to dodge an angry blow from Vincent Little. With little thought to what he was doing, Finnegan moved Cassandra out of the way and stood toe to toe with the big angry man.

Finnegan couldn't help but laugh as he sidestepped and dodged a number of punches while Cassandra yelled at her father to stop.

"Hold still and fight me like a man!" Vincent panted as Finnegan spun around Vincent and the older, fatter man nearly fell as he turned to face him again.

"I won't hit ya, Vinnie. T'would break poor Cass's heart to see her man knock her papa on his fat arse."

"Finnegan!" Cassandra scolded. "Papa, stop this nonsense!"

Finnegan laughed and even began to whistle a little tune, thoroughly enjoying himself as Vincent swung and he sidestepped yet again. He reached out and swiped a bit of sweat from Vincent's temple. "Ya should calm down, Vincent. You have worked up a nice sheen of sweat there."

Vincent huffed and then stopped suddenly. He turned his back to Finnegan and leaned against the poker table. Finnegan could hear Cassandra telling him to come but he just couldn't resist getting one more jab at the older man.

He laid his hand on Vincent's heaving back and clicked his tongue. "Do not feel bad then, Vinnie. I'll be an old man one day myself and no longer be quite so quick on me feet."

"Finnegan, that's enough," Cassandra hissed as she grabbed his arm and tried to tug him back.

Vincent froze and then, before Finnegan knew it was coming, the man spun and brought his hand, (and the whiskey bottle he had grabbed from the table), down upon Finnegan's head.

Finnegan was faintly aware of Cassandra cursing as he slumped to the floor and the train car went black.

***

Cassandra rushed to Finnegan and curses flew from her mouth when she saw the blood oozing from the cut on his temple.

"Cassandra Little! You are not to ever speak that way!"

"Dammit, papa, why can't you see that I'm not your baby girl any longer? I am a grown woman with a need to have my own life free of societies expectations." Cassandra knelt beside the Irishman and shook Finnegan's shoulder gently but the man seemed to be out cold.

Before anyone else could say anything three train attendants came bursting into the car looking more than ready to fight, "Alright! What exactly is going on here?!" The tallest and oldest of them bellowed.

"These three are fighting and causing one hell of a ruckus," one of the card players replied.

"We don't allow fighting on this train," another of the attendants said as he rubbed at his tired eyes. His clothes were slightly disheveled and it was clear he'd been sleeping before the fight had started.

"Sirs, I apologize," Cassandra spoke softly hoping to appease them. It would seem that her father had suddenly forgotten how to speak as he lowered his head sheepishly. "It was a simple misunderstanding and I can assure it won't happen again."

"I know it won't," the tall attendant replied with a snort. He crossed his long arms over his skinny chest. "The driver is stopping the train and the three of you are off it. We'll allow you ten minutes to get your belongings and whatever is still on this train is ours."

"Do you not find that to be a bit harsh of a punishment?!" Cassandra demanded incredulously.

"No. This train has never allowed fighting and therefore has become the safest train running from here to the west. Any disobedience is met with the strictest penalties. You have ten minutes." The man flipped open his watch, "And your time starts now."