Kinman kept the spyglass to his eyes and said, “Nope, but his horse is in the barn.”
Since he could only see a few noses inside that barn from this vantage point, Nick was about to question the validity of Kinman’s statement. Then Nick took a look for himself and spotted one horse’s nose that was splotched in a pattern of white, black and brown that seemed very familiar.
“That’s Lester’s horse all right,” Nick admitted. “Good eye.”
“It’s what I do.” When Kinman looked over at Nick, he saw the other man setting his spyglass down and taking off his coat.
“Stay here and give me a few minutes to get in closer.”
“Oh, no you don’t. We’re going in together. If they see you, they’ll start shooting and it’ll be that much harder for me to get in to do anything but catch some lead.”
“They won’t see me,” Nick assured him.
“And how can you be sure of that?”
“Because it’s what I do.”
Seeing Kinman’s aggravation put a warm feeling in Nick’s heart. He pulled his sleeves all the way down and buttoned them so they remained tight against his wrists. His holster was repositioned on his side and tied to his leg to keep it out of his way. By the time anyone knew he was there, Nick would have plenty of time to get the Schofield in hand. If not, he would have a lot bigger problems than shaving half a second off of his drawing speed.
Nick kept his belly in the grass and half-crawled, half-slithered toward the house. Whenever he reached a patch of higher weeds or bushes, Nick allowed himself to get his feet beneath him and scramble forward. It wasn’t the quickest way to travel, but he got to the house without drawing a glance or making more than a subtle rustle to announce he was there. He circled around to the side of the property opposite the barn.
Just then, a door slammed and Nick froze in his spot. His belly pressed against the dirt and his legs stretched out behind him. The sun was on its way down, but it would be a while before dark. As steps knocked against the front porch, Nick eased his arm down to his holster and kept it there. He was ready to draw, but didn’t want to tip his hand unless it was absolutely necessary.
The man who’d opened the door was a big fellow with a long, unkempt beard. He had a rifle in one hand and a shotgun in the other. Holding both guns over his shoulders, the bearded man strutted out and cleared his throat noisily.
“Take this shotgun, Ann.”
When he heard the woman respond, Nick twitched. She’d been so quiet that he hadn’t even heard her come outside.
“Keep it,” she replied.
“We been through this already. There’s some men that might be comin’ and we’ll need all the help we can get when they arrive. You don’t have to hit anything. Just fire and keep them off their balance.”
“I ain’t taking no shotgun, Wesley, and that’s that.”
Nick heard a few more heavy steps, followed by the creak of a rocking chair. He pushed himself up a bit, but couldn’t see much more than the back of the chair and the big man leaning down to it. The post at the corner of the porch was blocking Nick’s view of the woman Wesley was talking to.
“You’re taking this shotgun and you’re helping to defend this house, God dammit,” Wesley snarled.
“Defend this house or defend those goddamn jewels? I’d be more than happy to do one, but not the other.”
“If you want to keep living off that money, you’d best do both.”
“Then talk to Stephanie,” Ann said. “I’m sure she’ll fight to the death if it means she can gussy herself up with some more diamonds.”
Nick could feel the tension building as if it was heat rolling in on a summer day. Although he’d never met the man or his wife, he knew what was coming.
“Take it!” Wesley snapped. He extended his arm and shoved the shotgun at her.
That was followed by the sounds of a wheezing breath and creaking wood. As soon as Nick heard that, his stomach began to clench. His instinct was to do something before things went any further. Then again, he was also desperately looking around for a sign of Lester or the other cousin Kinman had mentioned. He could hear movement coming from somewhere, but couldn’t narrow it down since Wesley was creating such a ruckus.
“I won’t take it!” Ann insisted. “What if the law comes? You want me to shoot them too?”
“You’ll take it because I say so, bitch. Otherwise, I’ll knock you through the goddamn window.”
Nick gritted his teeth and waited another couple of seconds. It became quiet, but that ended with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh.
“You gonna do what I say?” Wesley asked. “Or do I need to smack some more sense through that fuc—”
“That’s enough!” Nick said as he straightened up and drew his pistol.
Wesley towered over Ann as both of them turned to look at Nick.
“Leave her be,” Nick said.
Wesley and Ann responded at the same time by taking their weapons and aiming them at Nick.
Nick’s eyes widened as he reflexively dove for cover. He’d been expecting Wesley to make a move like that, but hadn’t counted on Ann doing the same. Since he wasn’t sure which to shoot first, Nick opted to try and live through the next few seconds to see if he could come up with a better plan.
Wesley’s rifle went off and sent a round through the air fairly close to where Nick had been standing. By the time Nick hit the dirt, he heard the roar of the shotgun. The buckshot spread out as it left the barrel and some of it scraped along the backs of Nick’s legs. He gritted his teeth against the pain, more surprised than hurt that Ann had been the one to draw first blood.
“Serves me right, I guess,” Nick muttered.
As soon as he heard steps thumping against the porch, Nick rolled to one side and prayed he could reach some of the taller grass nearby.
Another shot from the rifle punched into the soil not far from where Nick had been lying. Nick fired one round toward the porch, but knew he wouldn’t hit anything but a wall if he was lucky, since he was still in the process of rolling. When he came to a stop, he popped onto one knee and found himself looking at the woman who’d been sitting in the rocker.
Ann looked right back at him over the top of her shotgun as her finger tightened around its trigger.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Nick was running toward her even as the hammers of Ann’s shotgun dropped. He bolted straight past Wesley so he could grab hold of the shotgun and twist it out of Ann’s grasp. Only when he was holding the shotgun himself did Nick realize what he’d done. Ann stared at him with eyes as big as dinner plates and her mouth hanging open.
“You already emptied both barrels,” Nick told her.
But that didn’t do much to soften the blow. She still stared at Nick as if he had dodged a hail of gunfire without breaking a sweat.
The truth of the matter was that Nick wasn’t sure whether she’d emptied both barrels or not. He’d already been in her sights and she was already pulling her trigger. If she’d saved a barrel for him, he would have been dead either way.
Ann’s jaw began to move as she regained the power of speech. Less than two seconds had ticked by, which was more than enough time for Wesley to turn and see what was going on. Nick looked at Wesley just as the man was swinging his arm around to take a shot. The next thing Nick did was extend his arm and throw himself back against the house. The shotgun Nick had taken caught Ann across the chest and knocked her back into her rocker, just as Wesley’s rifle spat out a plume of smoke.
Nick’s back hit the house as a bullet hissed past him. Since Wesley didn’t seem like the sort of man to get flustered under fire, Nick turned away from him and ran for the corner. It was a bit farther than he would have liked, so he raised his modified Schofield and squeezed off a round to cover his escape.