Rose(115)

Then she stumbled and fell. Over a dropped rifle.

Oblivious to the mud that covered her, she leapt to her feet. The men were practically on top of her. She feinted to one side causing one rider to miss her, but that brought her directly into the path of a second. He aimed his gun straight at her.

The explosion was terrifying. But Rose felt no pain. Her legs didn’t buckle under her. She kept running. She made it to the porch, dashed through the door, slammed and locked it behind her.

Zac stood at the window, a rifle in his hands, his face white as a sheet.

“He was going to hurt you,” Zac said.

“He fired before I could,” Tyler said as he rammed his rifle through the window and peppered shots into the night. “And the little bugger hit him.”

“He was going to hurt you,” Zac repeated.

Rose realized the child was in shock. He had shot the man when he was about to kill her, but now reaction had set in. That scared her. He was too small to suffer such a fright.

Rose ran to Zac and grabbed him up in her arms.

“It’s okay,” she crooned. “You’re a very brave little boy.” Zac didn’t move. He felt like a wooden doll in her arms. Glancing out the window, Rose saw that both raiders were gone. “You saved my life,” she said to Zac, gently taking the rifle from his grip. “Your brother is going to be very proud of you.”

“When is George coming?” Zac asked.

“Soon,” Rose assured him. “I’m sure he’s on his way right now.”

“They’re leaving,” Tyler called out. “They’re riding off.” He started toward the door.

“Stay here,” Rose ordered. “It could be a ruse. They may have chased their horses off to draw us outside so they can kill us.”

Tyler regarded Rose thoughtfully. “You’d make a good Indian fighter,” he said. “I’d never have thought of that.”

Rose was so surprised she couldn’t think of anything to say.

She felt Zac’s body relax a little. Then his arms flew around her neck in a viselike hug. Rose thought she would strangle, but she didn’t loosen his grip. When he started to shake, she held him closer, hoping her warmth and nearness would give him the comfort he needed.

She had shot her first man tonight, too, but the only feelings she had were relief that the danger was over and anger that these men had tried to kill them. She knew she would have no compunction at shooting again if they came back.

“George is coming,” Tyler called.

“Don’t go out. It may be a trick.”

“They’re coming at a gallop. Only George and the twins could ride like that in the middle of a rainstorm.”

Rain was coming down hard now. It was impossible to see anything at all.

“Turn up the lamp and set it in the window,” Rose said. “But stay down just in case.”

Unable to peel Zac’s arms from her, she picked him up and moved to the door. She opened it slowly. When nothing happened, she opened it further and stepped outside.

Gusts of moisture-laden wind reached her far back in the breezeway, but she pressed forward. She wanted to see George. She needed to know he was all right.

He came out of the gloom like a boulder in advance of an avalanche. He was off his horse and sweeping the two of them into his arms before she could even call his name.

“Are you all right?” he asked, burying his face in her shoulder, Zac crushed between them. “Where’s Tyler?”

“I’m right here,” Tyler said, emerging from the bedroom with the lamp turned as high as it would go. The light barely illuminated the faces of the others gathered close behind George.

“Did they attack the camp?” Rose asked, her grip on George not loosening.

“They hit us first.”

“Anybody hurt?”

“They got Alex,” Monty said, pushing his way past Rose and George, still locked together. “Did they do any damage here?”

Rose let her arms slide from around George. “They killed the bull. Zac tried to hide it, but they came up too fast.”

Uttering a particularly foul curse, Monty rushed off into the night. Hen and a couple of the men followed him.

“Come inside,” Rose said. “I’ll fix some coffee and warm up the stew. You’re dripping wet.”

“What happened?” George asked.

While Rose made coffee, sliced bread, and heated a venison stew, she told George about the attack. “If Zac hadn’t shot that man, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

With the return of his big brother, Zac’s spirits had made a remarkable recovery. The light had returned to his eyes, energy to his limbs. He couldn’t wait to tell George all about his part in the shootout.