toward the cattle. Maybe he was just playing cowboy. “Who you working for, Serge?”
There was an alarming hesitation before Serge answered. “Mr. Henley.”
“All right, then. Let me just take a quick look.” He sidestepped toward the cattle, doing his best to keep one eye on Serge while picking out brands on the nervous, shifting animals.
The first one he spotted was, indeed, Henley’s brand. The second brand was not. Neither was the third. “Serge,” he started, swinging his gun around.
He’d fired a shot before he felt the blow to his stomach. His side heated with a wash of warm blood, and he glanced down in surprise at the sensation. To his shock, he found he was already kneeling on the rocky ground.
“Goddamn it,” Serge cursed. Had he fired by mistake? Hale looked up in confusion, wondering why everything was moving so slowly. Serge was stumbling down the pile of small rocks at the base of the boulder, a hand pressed to his shoulder. Hale had barely grazed him.
Serge shook his blond head. “They’re gonna have the whole damn state after me for this shit.” He grabbed up his saddle and tossed it on his horse, leaving bloody shadows on the leather.
The pistol grew heavy in Hale’s hand, and his fingers worked hard to hold on to the slippery grip. Why was it slippery?
Serge went about saddling his horse, completely unconcerned.
“It was you?” Hale asked, the words careful enough to alarm him.
“Look, it was quick money, all right? I’m sorry about the men, but it couldn’t be avoided. I’m working on my own here.”
“They suffered.” Just as Hale was about to suffer. Gut shot. The worst way to go.
Serge shrugged. “I’m a bad shot. I gotta aim for the broadest target, Sheriff. It’s nothing personal.”
As Hale watched, Serge stiffened and swung around toward the west. Brady. He must be coming. Hale hadn’t heard anything, but Serge backed toward Hale’s horse and crouched low behind the saddle. Between the two horses, the deputy would never be able to spot Serge.
Hale couldn’t let Brady walk into this. The man would be a father soon, maybe even in the next few hours. But Hale’s arm seemed unconcerned with his determination. It didn’t move at all, and he wondered for a moment if his blood was so sticky it had pasted his arm to his side.
Brady’s going to be a father, he told himself sternly. You can afford to die. He can’t. He had to do something. “Brady!” he yelled, pain spiking deep beneath his ribs. “Stop!”
“Shut up,” Serge hissed, swinging toward Hale before he turned his gun back to the west.
“Make me,” Hale slurred, then gathered all his strength to yell. “It’s Serge! Stay back!”
“Shut up!” Serge screamed, taking one menacing step toward Hale.
Hale saw Brady’s horse finally. The deputy wasn’t on it. He must be circling around to come straight over the rise. He just needed time.
“Just shoot me,” Hale said, watching Serge’s brows rise.
“No, sir. You’ll be alive when I ride away. If you die later, it won’t be my fault. I won’t have you on my conscience.”
“You think I want to die like this, you bastard? Shoot me. Even a stupid fuck like you should be able to hit a head from fifteen paces.”
“Screw you, Sheriff.”
Hale tried hard to raise his hand to aim the gun at Serge, but he only managed to jerk a few drops of blood off the muzzle. “You’re a coward.”
The insult that would’ve made other men shake with rage only inspired this one to shrug. “I’ll be a rich coward when I leave here, Sheriff, so I wouldn’t worry too much about it if I was you.” His eyes cut toward the west, and Hale watched him squint at the approaching horse.
“What the hell,” he muttered.
“You’d better kill me now while you’re still breathing, Serge.”
The man waved him off with an impatient jerk of his gun. “Your arm’s all fucked up. You’re no threat to me.”
“No,” Hale whispered, “but he
There was an alarming hesitation before Serge answered. “Mr. Henley.”
“All right, then. Let me just take a quick look.” He sidestepped toward the cattle, doing his best to keep one eye on Serge while picking out brands on the nervous, shifting animals.
The first one he spotted was, indeed, Henley’s brand. The second brand was not. Neither was the third. “Serge,” he started, swinging his gun around.
He’d fired a shot before he felt the blow to his stomach. His side heated with a wash of warm blood, and he glanced down in surprise at the sensation. To his shock, he found he was already kneeling on the rocky ground.
“Goddamn it,” Serge cursed. Had he fired by mistake? Hale looked up in confusion, wondering why everything was moving so slowly. Serge was stumbling down the pile of small rocks at the base of the boulder, a hand pressed to his shoulder. Hale had barely grazed him.
Serge shook his blond head. “They’re gonna have the whole damn state after me for this shit.” He grabbed up his saddle and tossed it on his horse, leaving bloody shadows on the leather.
The pistol grew heavy in Hale’s hand, and his fingers worked hard to hold on to the slippery grip. Why was it slippery?
Serge went about saddling his horse, completely unconcerned.
“It was you?” Hale asked, the words careful enough to alarm him.
“Look, it was quick money, all right? I’m sorry about the men, but it couldn’t be avoided. I’m working on my own here.”
“They suffered.” Just as Hale was about to suffer. Gut shot. The worst way to go.
Serge shrugged. “I’m a bad shot. I gotta aim for the broadest target, Sheriff. It’s nothing personal.”
As Hale watched, Serge stiffened and swung around toward the west. Brady. He must be coming. Hale hadn’t heard anything, but Serge backed toward Hale’s horse and crouched low behind the saddle. Between the two horses, the deputy would never be able to spot Serge.
Hale couldn’t let Brady walk into this. The man would be a father soon, maybe even in the next few hours. But Hale’s arm seemed unconcerned with his determination. It didn’t move at all, and he wondered for a moment if his blood was so sticky it had pasted his arm to his side.
Brady’s going to be a father, he told himself sternly. You can afford to die. He can’t. He had to do something. “Brady!” he yelled, pain spiking deep beneath his ribs. “Stop!”
“Shut up,” Serge hissed, swinging toward Hale before he turned his gun back to the west.
“Make me,” Hale slurred, then gathered all his strength to yell. “It’s Serge! Stay back!”
“Shut up!” Serge screamed, taking one menacing step toward Hale.
Hale saw Brady’s horse finally. The deputy wasn’t on it. He must be circling around to come straight over the rise. He just needed time.
“Just shoot me,” Hale said, watching Serge’s brows rise.
“No, sir. You’ll be alive when I ride away. If you die later, it won’t be my fault. I won’t have you on my conscience.”
“You think I want to die like this, you bastard? Shoot me. Even a stupid fuck like you should be able to hit a head from fifteen paces.”
“Screw you, Sheriff.”
Hale tried hard to raise his hand to aim the gun at Serge, but he only managed to jerk a few drops of blood off the muzzle. “You’re a coward.”
The insult that would’ve made other men shake with rage only inspired this one to shrug. “I’ll be a rich coward when I leave here, Sheriff, so I wouldn’t worry too much about it if I was you.” His eyes cut toward the west, and Hale watched him squint at the approaching horse.
“What the hell,” he muttered.
“You’d better kill me now while you’re still breathing, Serge.”
The man waved him off with an impatient jerk of his gun. “Your arm’s all fucked up. You’re no threat to me.”
“No,” Hale whispered, “but he
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