Page 60 of Discovered Magic
So that I might save my love, Abbie.”
Although his cells warmed, he wasn’t able to manipulate the wooden planks or the ground to slow their escape. The heating of his body gave him hope. If he could teleport, he might get help to save her. Closing his eyes, he envisioned the restaurant as they’d left it, but when he lifted his lids, he was still on the boardwalk where he’d been left to bleed out.
He reached back with his uninjured hand, feeling for the wound. The pain was minimal, but when he drew back his hand, it was drenched in blood. He was losing too much, too fast.
“Grant her power, Exalted One. Please,” he whispered, and he drifted into unconsciousness.
Soft hands stroked his brow. For a moment, Wilder pretended it was Abbie and imagined this was all a horrible dream. He cracked a lid, only to find himself alone. Witnesses remained at a distance, as if fearing to come to his aid. What had he expected? They’d landed in the Wild West, lawless except for a brave few.
Gus Green’s self-appointed job was to watch over Crazy Mary when Sheriff Thorne couldn’t.
He’d never seen the dark-haired man before today, but Mary seemed at ease with him in a way she’d never been with anyone else. Although it caused his heart to ache, he wasn’t fool enough to believe she’d ever fancy someone as young, as stupid, or as lowborn as him, to say nothing of his criminal background. She was a true lady despite her bad luck.
Still, Gus intended to be her protector whenever the others couldn’t. Hadn’t he confronted Pa, even at the risk of getting beat, hoping to stop him from hurting her in the alley a little over a year ago? He’d failed to get her away, but thankfully, Draven had arrived to prevent any real harm. Then, learning from his mistake and knowing he wasn’t so strong as to confront Harlan during the bank heist, Gus had fetched Jonas and Draven. Although she was alive, Mary suffered from him butting his nose in. She might still be mostly whole had he kept his mouth shut.
Right now, he faced another such moment. If he got the gambler and the Sheriff, she might be injured again. But if he waited, biding his time, he might be able to sneak in and free her.
No one interfered as Bart shot Mary’s dark-haired suitor in the back, nor when he robbed the guy and left him on the wooden planks for dead.
Gus had a split second to make a choice.
Turning away from the man’s suffering, he darted down the neighboring alley in the same direction as Bart and his henchmen. When he got to the end, he stayed at the opening, letting the darkness hide him. Seemed his whole life had been spent hiding. From his Ma’s gentlemen friends, then Pa, when he’d become useful as a warm body to point a barrel at.
Only Sheriff Thorne treated him with any respect. Ruffling his hair instead of boxing his ears when he did wrong. The gambler was never mean, but he tended to look straight through Gus, as if he didn’t see him at all.
Peering closer, Gus saw one man binding Mary’s hands as the other stuffed a kerchief into her mouth. Her feet were next before they tossed her onto the buckboard like a sack of grain. Their only attempt to hide her was a canvas tarp.
“Well done, gents. And now for your payment.”
Two shots were fired. The back of the head for the closest and the heart of the second as he turned from the tailgate.
The buckboard strained under Bart’s weight as he climbed onto the seat and flicked the reins. Gus hugged the wall as he passed by, not giving chase. He had a good idea where the merchant was headed. The caves west of town were notorious hiding spots for bandits and killers on the run. He’d follow at a safe distance, then circle back to tell Jonas of the location if he couldn’t save Mary himself.
Fairly positive his plan was a good one, Gus ran for the stables to saddle a ride. Thankfully, Sheriff Thorne had posse horses at their disposal.
20
“Damned drunks out there firin’ shots again.” Dwight King, Draven’s current poker adversary, squinted at his dwindling pile of money. “And where’s Sheriff Thorne when ya need him, eh?”
Unease rippled along Draven’s nerve endings as the crowd noise increased, and he gave serious consideration to checking out the commotion.
“Shot him right in the back and left ’em for dead, they did! Took his gold and Crazy Mary,” someone left of him exclaimed.
“Merde!” Shoving back his chair, he stood and ordered, “Find Jonas.”
“Sure thing, Masters. We can pause?—”
“No need, mon ami. The hand is yours.”
He didn’t wait for a response. Alexander Castor appeared right on his heels.
Less than a minute later, they were kneeling beside Wilder, staring down at his gray face and agony-filled eyes.
“It was Mercer,” Wilder said between gritted teeth. “Forget about me. Please, save Abbie.”
“Oui. But we will get you patched up first, yes?” Draven’s driving need to get to Abbie was anxiety-producing, and when he found Bart, the bastard would meet his maker. However, Wilder’s situation was grave, and he required divine intervention to survive. Yet, it couldn’t be Draven, which meant he had to go for Jonas.
“If I don’t make it?—”
