Sam's Creed

“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.”