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He nodded to the leader when they got to about twenty feet away, “Howdy, boys.” In case they mistook his greeting for an invitation, Sam centered his revolver on the leader’s chest. “That’s far enough.”
The man ran his hand over his full moustache, his fingers lingering on the straggling ends of the right side. “The woman you have with you looks familiar.”
“Who rides with me isn’t any of your business.”
Two of the bandits fanned out in a loose flanking maneuver. Sam glanced around the streets. The smattering of locals that had been walking about had disappeared inside buildings faster than he could wave his hand. Down the street a door slammed shut.
“Isabella, I thought I told you to get inside.”
“You did.”
“Then why are you still standing out on the street?”
“Because the people of this place seem to want me outside.”
A lanky man with a black hat, dirty chaps and shiny guns headed toward Isabella. Sam adjusted the point of his revolver. “Mister, you take one more step, and it will be your last.”
“You’re awfully unfriendly for somebody who just came to town,” the leader said with deceptive civility.
Sam gave him back an equally civil smile. “Consider it a character flaw.”
He glanced over at Isabella standing on the walkway. She was too exposed. “Duchess, I want you to go around to the alley over there.”
She waved toward the man at the edge of the walk between her and her goal. “How?”
“Just walk on by.”
Her tongue flicked over her lips. Not a single man missed the provocative sight. Damn, that woman had a mouth made for loving. “But—”
“If he moves I’ll put a bullet in his brain. You can trust me on that.”
Two breaths and then she turned those eyes on him. “You promise you will shoot him?”
“I promise.”
“You will not miss.”
“Not likely.”
“Likely is not a guarantee.”
“Get moving.”
“Fine, but if you miss I will be unhappy.”
Even from here he could see her hands shaking at the thought of passing by the bastard.
“Then for sure I won’t miss.”
With a short nod she headed toward the alley. Sam waited until Isabella disappeared around the corner of the building, and then he straightened, settling easily in the saddle, letting the coldness that preceded battle cloak him. “Now that she’s gone, we can talk.”
“There is nothing to talk about.”
“Fine, then I’ll just lay it out for you. It’s been a bitch of a day. I’m hungry, tired and been stuck on the wrong end of that woman’s tongue for the last four hours.” From the alley came the faint echo of a gasp. He smiled. He thought that would get her going.
“If the woman is such trouble, my friends and I would be happy to take her off your hands.”
He just bet they would. Leather creaked as he shifted his weight in the saddle. “And who would you be?”
“Juan Zapatos.”
“Well, Juan, I only mentioned that because pretty much all I want is a couple shots of whiskey and a soft bed.”
The man near the walkway moved. Sam met his gaze and gave a small shake of his head. He settled back.
“There’s no reason you can’t have what you want,” Juan said.
“As long as I give you what you want?”
Juan nodded. “Sí.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“The woman is Tejala’s.”
“Then Tejala is going to be disappointed.”
“I don’t think so.”
“What’s mine stays mine.” He nodded toward the alley where Bella hid. “And the woman’s mine.”
Another gasp.
“And who are you to think you can take what is Tejala’s?”
Centering the revolver on Juan, Sam answered. “Sam MacGregor. Texas Ranger.”
There was a murmur from the man near the walk. A whisper of unease spread through the group. A little of the starch left Juan’s stance. But not all of it. After all, Sam’s reputation notwithstanding, they had him six to one.
Juan spat. “Your badge means nothing here.”
Sam shrugged. “A badge means nothing anywhere. It’s the man behind the badge you’ve got to be afraid of.” He smiled. “And quite frankly, y’all are wearing on my last nerve. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to get this over with.”
“And what is ‘this’?”
“This is me either peaceably passing through or plugging a hole in some of you.” He turned the revolver on the bandit closest to the alley. The shotgun he lined up with Juan’s midsection. He didn’t need accuracy with a shotgun. “Which way I go is entirely up to you.”
Metal slid across leather in an audible hiss as Juan’s men drew their guns. Behind him, the unexpected scuff of a boot on sand. Sam dove to the ground, turning and pulling the trigger as he fell, swearing as he saw his target jerking the gun to the left just in time. The bullet whizzed past Isabella’s head. She screamed and crouched down, covering her head with her arms.
“Son of a bitch!” She must have circled around the building.
He rolled under the horses’ hooves toward the center of the street, taking the line of fire away from her. At least he knew why Kell hadn’t given a warning.
“Get your ass back in the alley,” he hollered. “Kell, guard.”
He hoped the dog knew to guard.
Bullets hit the ground around Sam in rapid succession. Kell hesitated.
“I will help,” Isabella yelled. Sam didn’t know how much help she expected to be with her hands over her face.
He scanned the street, noting positions. “You can help by getting your butt to safety.” He glanced at the bristling dog. “And take Kell with you.”
Juan laughed from behind a post. “You cannot even get your woman to obey, and you expect us to fear you?”
“Nah, I just expect you to die.”
Rolling to his back, dropping the shotgun beside him, he palmed the hammer on his Colt, unleashing a spray of bullets. Three bandits dropped, two didn’t. Shit.
Return fire was immediate. He didn’t have any cover. A bullet struck him in the thigh with a hard punch and a sickening splat. Isabella screamed. He only had a few seconds to act before the pain came calling. Jumping to his feet, Sam ran for Bella, catching her around the waist as he got even, half carrying, half throwing her into the alley. Kell was right behind. Bullets peppered the building in the spot they’d been a split second before. He pressed his back against the wall. Splinters of wood flew, stinging his cheek as he shoved Isabella to the ground.
“When I say to stay put,” Sam growled. “Stay put.”
Pointing the shotgun around the corner, he fired blindly, relying on the scatter to do damage. A highpitched yell told him he had hit something. The swearing afterward meant probably not fatally.
“Son of a bitch.”
There was a tug at his belt. He turned, another curse on his lips. He did not need an hysterical woman on his hands. Isabella grabbed his hand and slapped something into his palm. His fingers closed around familiar shapes. Bullets. He met her gaze. There was steel beneath that softness.
“Thanks.”
Bullets whined past the alley opening. He cocked the other barrel of the shotgun, waiting for a pause before pointing the barrel around the corner again and pulling the trigger. As soon as it discharged, he tossed it to Isabella along with the pouch of ammunition.
“Do you know how to load that?” he gritted out.
She didn’t waste time on words, just set to work with an efficiency that answered his questions. He shoved bullets into the chambers of his revolvers, keeping an eye on the movement beyond the alley as best he could. “It’s going to get messy here in a minute.”
Her glance fell to the blood on his thigh.
“It already is.”
He was bleeding like a stuck pig. Yanking his bandanna from around his neck, he held it out. “Do me a favor and tie that off.”
She did. He bared his teeth against the pain. “Thanks.”
She yanked the knot tight before handing him back the shotgun. “Do not miss.”
She was a bossy little thing. “I’ll do my best.”
“It would be best if you succeeded.”
Very bossy.
Things were too quiet out there. Sam inched along the wall, being careful his gun belt didn’t scrape. A rhythmic jingle of spurs approached. He shook his head at the foolhardiness of trying to sneak while wearing spurs. He leaned back and waited. The thin barrel of a rifle extended past the corner. Sam didn’t move, holding his palm out flat behind him to warn Isabella not to make a sound. Two heartbeats passed. The gun barrel jerked. Sam dropped to his knee. Fire burned up his thigh. The man leapt around the corner. Sam fired. The bullet hit the outlaw in the heart, stopping him midleap. He dropped, a stunned expression on his face.
Cocking the hammer again, Sam wiped the sweat from his brow with his shoulder and waited. There was no sound.
He spared a quick glance at Bella. Her face was white and her eyes were big with terror, but she was kneeling beside Kell, holding his jaws shut. Sam added quickthinking to bossy.
Holding his finger to his lip, he indicated she should continue to be silent. She nodded back. Sam inched closer to the corner of the building, blood dripping down his leg in a warm flow. As soon as he took care of the last bandit, he’d have to see just how bad it was. At least the bullet had missed the bone.
“Your friends are dead,” he called out.
No answer.
“I’m willing to let you live, for a price.” Something crashed to the ground. From the splintering aftermath it sounded like a crate. “You promise to take a message to Tejala, and I won’t plug your sorry ass.”
Still no response.
“I’m going to count to three. If I get to three I’m going to take that for a no.”
Another crash. He stepped around the corner. A barrel tumbled off the stack against the livery. Beside it listed a broken crate. A quick scan revealed no guns poking out of windows, no new additions to the battle cluttered the streets. Apparently the citizens of the town were no more married to Juan and his companions than he was.
“One.”
He got to the edge of the barrels, his leg aching like a son of a bitch. Ahead of him he could see the bandit scramble backwards across the ground, one arm held awkwardly at his side. Sam advanced, guns cocked, eyes watchful as the man tripped and fell back to his elbows. A hoarse shout punctuated his fall onto his injured arm. He pushed with his feet but there was nowhere for him to go. Behind him was the building and in front of him was Sam. The wall would be easier to get through.
“Two.”
The bandit finally realized he was trapped. He threw up his hand. “¿Qué quieres?”
Sam didn’t answer. He let the man stew in his own sweat while he bore down on him. A trickle of blood rolled down his cheek and more blood seeped down his leg.
He kicked the gun away from the bandit’s useless arm. “What does Tejala want with this woman?”
“I don’t know.”
“That wasn’t what I asked you.” Sam fired a bullet into his other shoulder.
He had to wait until the man’s shouts dropped to a panicked gurgle before he could repeat his question.
“To marry her! She is supposed to be his bride!”
So that part of her story was true.
“If she’s supposed to be his bride why isn’t she married to him?”
“Because I have refused the marriage contract.”
