Page 68 of Discovered Magic
With a heavy dose of caution, she inched forward and flicked his nose.
Not even a blink.
She punched him between the eyes before placing two fingers against his neck.
Still dead. Good.
Satisfied, she unbuckled his gun belt, withdrew the knife from his waistband, and dragged the strap of the canteen down his fleshy arm. The first sip was pure heaven despite the tinny taste. She allowed herself another swallow before capping it. If she didn’t ration her water, she’d die.
After looping the strap over her shoulder, she rose and kicked Bart in the face.
“Rot in hell, motherfucker!”
Vicious, yes, but she doubted she was the first person the pig fucker had assaulted.
It took her a solid second to register the dust in the canyon seemed thicker. Right before she turned, an ugly foreboding washed over her. She froze, her reaction similar to a wild animal’s as a hunter took aim. Goosebumps accompanied the rising hair on the back of her neck.
“Bloodthirsty. I love it,” approved a deep voice.
A horse blew out its breath, confirming she had company. With a sense of the inevitable, she spun toward the canyon’s opening.
Seven men on horses spanned the trail’s width, identities hidden in shadow.
Lifting the pistol, she drew back the hammer.
“Can’t get us all, woman,” a different guy’s voice taunted menacingly, as if trying to invoke fear.
“Maybe not, but I can hit a few of you,” she retorted.
His chuckle was akin to an evil spirit slithering across her soul.
“Green, fetch her to me,” another man ordered.
Saints alive, this was all too familiar. Was this particular stretch of land cursed? She only needed to look up and see Stands-in-Shadow’s horror for it to be a shitshow homecoming. Although, to be honest, she’d welcome a friendly face.
As “Green” drew closer, a sunbeam revealed Gus’s tortured visage. As his mount galloped nearer, their gazes locked, and in his lived apology. Participating in their games went against every fiber of his being, and if he was with the motley crew, it wasn’t willingly.
“It’s okay, Gus,” she said softly as he reached her.
He swung down, using his body to block the others who progressed at a leisurely pace. “I’m gonna swing you up in the saddle, Miss Mary, and you’re gonna ride out of the canyon, then straight east. Ya got it?”
“I don’t know?—”
“What’s taking so long, boy?” snapped the obvious leader.
“Just helpin’ her up, Mr. Hastings,” Gus called over his shoulder. When he looked at her, his doleful eyes held a warning. “Don’t run full out, but keep him at a trot?—“
A pistol’s report cut him off, and for one heart-stopping moment, she thought maybe they hadn’t shot him. But the light faded from his eyes, and with his last, gasping breath, he said, “I’m sorry I failed ya.”
Acting on instinct, she lunged for the reins, but the contrary beast side-stepped, leaving her exposed. Blindly, she fired in the group’s direction, grunting her satisfaction as they split up. Wasting precious seconds, she bent to claim Gus’s revolver, then dashed for his horse. The perverse creature bucked and reared, screeching as bullets flew their way.
Pumped full of adrenaline, she failed to initially notice the burning in her thigh, but as she spun to flee, her leg gave out. Abbie refused to go down without a fight. Rolling onto her back, she leveled the pistol at the man striding toward her. The warning in his moss-green eyes gave her pause. Squatting, he ripped the gun from her hand.
“Play along, Fire Cat,” he murmured. Raising his voice, he said, “I’m claiming her as mine.”
“What?” hollered the unkempt outlaw arriving behind him. “Ain’t no call to keep a woman to yerself, Royal!” His outrage was almost laughable. “Tell him, Silas. Me and the boys want a turn.”
“I said, she’s mine,” Royal snarled, standing and delivering a vicious kick to the man’s balls.
