Page 129 of The Formation of Us
Stone narrowed his eyes at Boyd. “Either you’re an incredibly stupid man, or a very intelligent one.”
“What a coincidence,” Boyd said. “I was thinking the same about you.”
Stone’s lips lifted in a snarl. “Don’t push me. Get on your horse and leave or I’ll make you wish you had.”
“Your argument is with me,” Cuvier called, his voice echoing across the yard. “I’m the one who used your connections to get an offer on the brothel.”
Boyd grinned. “You got hoodwinked?” he asked, blocking Stone’s attempt to move forward. “You let this two-bit lawyer get one over on you?” Boyd’s laughter boomed across the yard. “Not too smart of you, eh, Judge? Talk about stupid.”
It worked; Stone growled and swung the revolver toward Boyd’s chest.
Duke leapt forward, arms extended, hands open. With his right hand, he palmed Cora’s tear-stained face and shoved her backwards. In the same instant, he hooked the bloody half- numb fingers of his left hand over the gun and pulled the revolver down and back, risking a bullet in his legs.
The blast echoed through the neighborhood, followed by another loud, deadly crack that sent Duke reeling backward.
Screams filled the yard, and Duke fell. He tried to twist his body and gain an advantage, but he didn’t have the strength to outmuscle Stone. They hit the ground together, Stone on top.
Duke gripped the man’s neck with his good arm and held him, refusing to let the bastard fire another shot, even if it meant his own death. Everything was turning gray, but Duke held on, praying he’d been fast enough to shove his daughter out of harm’s way, and that his brothers would hurry up and pull Stone off his shoulder that was screaming with pain.
Stone won their battle and tore himself away.
“Stop him,” Duke yelled, but the words were a croak. He grabbed for Stone’s arm, but other hands pulled him clear.
Radford was there, crouched beside him, yanking open Duke’s coat. “Where are you hit?”
Duke batted his hands away. “Get Stone. He’ll take Cora.”
“She’s okay. Faith has her.”
“Get him, damn it . . .”
“We did.” Boyd pointed to the judge, who was lying facedown in the snow.
Kyle lifted his fingers from Stone’s throat. “He’s dead.”
A huge stain covered the back and side of Stone’s coat, but Duke’s pain-dazed mind struggled to comprehend what happened. Stone was dead.
Shot.
By Radford. Who wouldn’t touch a gun. But today he had killed a man to save Duke and his family.
“You shot him . . .”
“And the bullet might have hit you, too,” Radford said, pushing Duke’s coat over his shoulder.
“Rad, you shot him. You couldn’t . . . you shot him . . .”
“Hold still, damn it!”
Radford had killed men in the war and it had torn his life apart. A deep, cutting sorrow pushed a sob from Duke’s throat. “God, Rad, I’m sorry.”
“The man didn’t leave us a choice.” Radford’s jaw locked and he yanked Duke’s shirt open. Buttons flew, and Radford grimaced at the sight of Duke’s shoulder. “Jesus, you’re a mess.”
“Feels that way. Will you—”
“No!” Radford gripped Duke’s jaw and stared him in the eye. “I killed a man so you could live, and goddamn it, you’re going to.”
Boyd and Kyle brought Duke to his feet, and that was the first time since jumping Stone that Duke noticed what was going on around him. Cuvier was carrying Cora and helping Faith into the house. Iris was jogging down the street with Aster and Doc Milton hurrying behind her. Sheriff Phelps was racing toward them from the other direction, with Adam a few paces ahead, his boyish face filled with fear and anguish.
