Wyoming Renegade. Susan Amarillas

      “You bastards!” she cried, and tried to twist free. “Eddie!” She twisted again, the man’s fingers digging into her arm, tearing the tender flesh. ’

      The one called Fred watched for a moment, then offered a yellow-toothed smile that made her stomach roll over again. “Well, now, looks like you boys done found us a real hellcat.” His grin got bigger. “Just bring her right on over here to me. Ol’ Fred knows how to treat a woman.” He rubbed his crotch for emphasis.

      Every muscle in her body drew in, wire tight. Terror, as pure and raw as anything she’d ever known, shot out along all the nerves in her body.

      “Let me go!” she commanded, and punctuated her demand by applying her booted foot to her captor’s leg with all the strength she had.

      “Ouch!” he yelped, and loosened his grip enough that she got free. She heard the distinctive sound of a rifle being cocked. She didn’t care. She was going to die anyway, and in the distant recesses of her mind she thought she preferred being shot to the other options.

      Her dress tangled around her legs, and she fell. She crawled the last couple of feet to Eddie’s side.

      The men laughed. “Ain’t that a sight?”

      “Always did like a woman to come crawlin’.”

      They laughed again.

      Alex ignored them. “Are you all right?” She touched his wound and he winced in response. Blood stained the ends of her fingers. “Oh, Eddie, I’m so sorry.” She tore off a piece of her wet petticoat and dabbed at his wound.

      He managed the barest of smiles, a grimace really, but his eyes never left their attackers. “Are you all right? Did they—”

      “No.” She covered his hand with hers.

      Behind them, the fire snapped and popped, red flames against a black velvet sky.

      Lyle tossed another stick into the flames, sending a cascade of brightly colored sparks fluttering into the night. The tall one lounged against the wagon wheel, shoveling in the food that Eddie had cooked.

      The man at the camp fire spoke up. “Well now, aren’t you two a pair.” He served up a plate of food for himself. They’d obviously opened several of the cans she’d brought.

      “She yours?” Fred gestured with his fork. He shoveled more ham into an already full mouth. He sloshed in a drink of whiskey from a bottle he produced from his pocket. The dark brown liquid dribbled out of the corners of his mouth and down his chin, staining an already stained beard. “Well, boy, I asked if she was yours.”

      “Yes.”

      “No.”

      Eddie and Alex spoke in unison. The man paused then laughed, a hard nasal sound. “Well, sonny, which is it?”

      Eddie stiffened, pulling Alex into the curve of his arm. “She’s mine, as you put it.”

      The man regarded them thoughtfully. “Wife?”

      “Yes.”

      “Ha!” the man by the wheel sneered.

      “She’s my wife.” Eddie’s tone was adamant. He stood, pulling Alex up with him. She didn’t know what was happening but she went along.

      “How come she doesn’t seem to think so?” the tall man asked with a sneer.

      “She’s confused. Being held at gunpoint will do that to a person.” Now it was Eddie’s turn to sneer. He inched back, nudging Alex with him.

      The man at the camp fire stopped eating, his hand sliding around the trigger of the rifle still balanced on his lap. “Where you goin’, boy?” His tone was menacing.

      “You’re welcome to the food and to whatever is in the wagon.” Eddie took a brazen step back, this time shoving Alex fully behind him as he did.

      The man who was eating scraped the last of the food from the metal plate and tossed it down with a clink. He dragged his sleeve along his mouth, leaving more stains on the cloth.

      “We were gonna do that anyway… boy.” He hefted his rifle in the curve of one arm. “Frank.” The man nearest the wheel straightened. “Take a look-see in the wagon, seein’ as how this young fella’s been so kind as to offer it.”

      Frank followed orders and disappeared around the side of the wagon. Alex saw the wagon sway slightly as the man climbed inside.

      “The woman, Fred?” Lyle asked eagerly, licking his lips as he did. “What about the woman? I mean, we ain’t been with no white women in a month o’ Sundays and I’m getting tired of them redskin bitches.”

      Alex felt her skin crawl. She wanted to scream. She wanted this all to be some terrible nightmare.

      “Hey,” a voice called from the back of the wagon. “Ain’t nothing in here but clothes and food and some kinda paints….”

      Eddie took another step back, pulling Alex along with him. Firelight flashed on the barrel of gun being pointed in their direction. The hole in the barrel suddenly seemed enormous. “Don’t be leavin’ us, boy. Why, the party’s just about to get going.”

      “Hot damn!” Alex’s attacker, the one called Lyle, surged to his feet and strode for her. “Me first.” He licked his lips and wiped them on his sleeve again. Alex clung to Eddie, her hand gripping his arm for support, for strength.

      “No,” she barely whispered. Inside she was screaming, but outside she was paralyzed.

      With clear intent, the man advanced on them. Eddie stepped between Alex and the man. The man hesitated for about two seconds. “Git outta my way, boy.” He took another step. “I’ll kill you where you stand.” He produced a gun from the waistband of his pants.

      “Eddie, don’t,” Alex whispered.

      “Yeah, Eddie,” the gun-wheeling man sneered. “Don’t.”

      “Stay away from her,” Eddie pronounced, refusing to back down. He kept inching away, pulling Alex with him. “We told you to take whatever you wanted, just leave us alone.”

      “Trouble is, boy,” the man near the fire said, “you have what we want.”

      “Hey,” Frank called from the wagon again. “Found some money. Looks like…maybe…nearly a thousand.”

      Both men halted, their attention drawn to their companion and his announcement.

      Eddie kept moving back. In a low voice he whispered, “As soon as you’re in the shadows, run.” He kept inching while the men gathered around to count their loot. The shadows were close, a couple more yards. A few more steps and—

      “Dammit, boy,” was the only thing Alex heard, then a shot.

      Eddie yelled in pain. He fell to his knees, his eyes wide with disbelief. As though in slow motion, he lifted his hand away from his side. Blood, bright red, pooled in his palm and dripped between his fingers onto the ground.

      “Eddie!” Her voice sliced through the night like a razor’s edge. “Eddie!”

      Eddie didn’t answer, just looked at her, then his eyes fluttered closed and he fell the rest of the way to the ground.

       Chapter Seven