"What the hell does that mean?" Brody asked.
McPherson held up his hands in front of him. "From what I heard at the mercantile—word spreads fast and the sheriff isn't the only one with news—Turner was a gambler. Bad at cards. Lost everything."
"To Palmer." I gritted my teeth. Something wasn't right. I had a bad feeling in my gut.
"If Palmer collected his money, why was he so bloody pissed?" Brody asked.
"Right. Palmer was angry enough to kill him," McPherson stated. "Why?"
We glanced at each other and the reason became clear. "Laurel." Brody and I said it at the exact same time.
McPherson's head came up, his eyes sharp. "Where is she?"
"At the house. We need to—"
A shot rang out, coming from a distance, but clear and loud in the still air.
My heart seized at the sound and we ran to the stable door and threw it open.
Bang. A second shot.
"Shit," Brody muttered. "It's coming from the house." He grabbed the reins on McPherson's horse and led it outside and mounted deftly.
McPherson grabbed the gun from the pegs above the door. "Brody!"
He tossed the rifle and Brody caught it before he spurred the animal into motion.
McPherson and I started running in the direction of the house and Laurel. What the hell was going on? Was it Palmer or something else? Was Laurel the one firing the shots to call us to help or was she defending herself? Or worse, had someone shot her? I picked up my pace, running as fast as I could through the deep snow. I needed to get to her, but was relieved to know Brody would almost be there by now.
"The others will come, too," he breathed. He kept pace with my sprint. "It's only been two shots so that doesn't mean anything."
Bang. A third shot, which meant—
"Laurel!"
CHAPTER TEN
BRODY
I barely slowed the horse before I jumped down. Laurel sat on the porch floor in the cold, her hair wild and half down from the pins, a gun held tightly in her hands and aimed at a body lying on the ground. Based on the blood beginning to pool around him, he wasn't getting up again. I dashed up the stairs, my footsteps loud and skidded to a stop in front of the man. I aimed my rifle at him as I nudged him with my foot, and then pushed him over onto his back.
Palmer. His eyes were open and staring fixed at the ceiling of the porch, a crimson stain of blood spreading across his white shirt. He was dead.
My heart pounded and my muscles were tense and ready to kill. I wanted to shoot him myself, to relieve some of this pent-up angst and fear. Swiveling, I dropped to my knees in front of Laurel, put the rifle down gently beside us on the floor.#p#分页标题#e#
"Laurel," I said, my voice soft. I held my hands out by my sides not wanting to startle her.
She hadn't moved since I came up, her eyes focused solely on Palmer, the gun still raised and aimed at the man. The strong tang of blood filled the crisp air.
I reached out slowly and took her hands in mine. They were so cold, icy even, and not from the freezing weather. I doubted she even knew I was there. "Laurel, give me the gun. Laurel," I repeated, louder this time.
She shook her head slowly. "No. He's dangerous. He'll hurt—"
"He's dead, sweetheart. He can't hurt you now." Her hands relaxed enough for me to take the gun from her and place it beside the rifle. "Look at me."
She was in shock, stunned and petrified, but whole. What had the man done before she'd fired the shots? Clearly one of bullets had killed him.
"Laurel," I said one more time, my voice deeper and more commanding.
She blinked and turned her head to mine. I saw the moment her eyes focused and she saw me.
"Brody!" she cried, hurling herself into my arms, burying her face in my shoulder. "He...it was awful. I remembered to fire the three shots, but he was coming after me and I only fired two." Her voice was high and she was on the verge of hysteria. I didn't blame her one bit, for I was a little unsettled as well. I couldn't go crazy, though; it was my job to soothe, to make her safe. I'd done a fuck all job of it, having to defend herself from the bloody bastard, but she was safe now. I hugged her tightly.
"No. No, sweetheart. You fired all three and we heard you. We came as fast as we could, but you took care of yourself. I'm so proud of you." I stroked my hand over her hair, again and again, hoping my warmth would seep into her.
"I thought...he had a gun and—"
She shuddered once and then began to sob.
I pulled her up onto my lap and tucked her head beneath my chin, my arm about her waist holding her securely. I did nothing but rock her and let her cry, all the while staring down at Palmer's lifeless body.