He was too weak to lift his weapon. Emily was stopping now to help him. He tried to tell her to keep going, but all he could get out was one harsh word.
"No."
And then she was by his side and taking his gun away from him. He tried to focus on her, but the blackness before his eyes was making it impossible. He knew it would only be a matter of seconds before he passed out, and he desperately wanted to get her to safety first.
"Get out of here," he whispered.
"Hold on," Emily cried out.
She reached over, took the reins away from him, and forced his stallion to veer with hers toward the cluster of trees near the base of the first incline. Shots echoed around them as they entered the protection of the pines. The horses made another sharp turn before coming to an abrupt stop at the edge of a bluff.
Travis tried to sit up, but realized his mistake when he felt himself falling. He heard Emily scream his name a scant second before the darkness claimed him.
She swung her leg over her horse and leapt to the ground. "Get up, Travis," she begged as she ran to him. "Please, God, don't let him be dead."
He'd landed on his side and was half draped over a boulder. His head had struck the rock, and there were splatters of blood everywhere.
She knelt down beside him and gently turned him so she could see his back. She screamed then, a piercing, agonizing scream, and something seemed to explode inside her. She was filled with such rage she could barely think.
A shot stung the rock beside him. Emily came to her senses in the blink of an eye. She put Travis's gun back in his holster so she could use both her hands, put her arms under his, and began to drag him to safety.
She thought only to get him further into the forest. Then she saw a deep crevice between the rocks at one end of the bluff and turned around to drag him there. No one could get to him from behind, she knew, and they couldn't attack from the sides either. They would have to come at them head-on, and then she would shoot them down like the rabid dogs they were.
She didn't know where her strength came from, but she thought that maybe God was lending her a hand now. She tucked Travis into the crevice, rolled him on his side, and then took his gun in her hands again.
Roscoe came at them first. She shot him in the thigh. He yelped in fury and hopped back out of sight.
"The bitch got me, Clifford," he roared. "I got to kill her now."
"You hit bad?" Clifford shouted back.
"I'm bleeding like a pig, but it's just a flesh nick. I'm gonna kill her, all right."
"Not till we take a turn using her," Clifford shouted. "We'll hurt her good, Roscoe."
The two brothers continued to shout at one another. They were trying to terrify her, as each described in vile detail what he was going to do to her. She was already scared out of her wits, however, and nothing they could say now would make it any worse.
As long as the shouts remained distant, she knew she and Travis were safe. She put his gun down on the ground next to her, lifted her skirt, and ripped her petticoat so she could fashion a bandage for him. There was blood on the front of Travis's shirt on the left side. She tore his shirt free, saw the small hole in his skin, and realized the bullet had gone straight through. His back was covered in blood. She pressed the cloth to the injury and used another long strip of her petticoat to wrap around him.
The shouting suddenly stopped. Emily grabbed the gun and waited. A second felt like an hour. Roscoe poked his head out through the branches of a tree. He moved back before she could aim.
"She's tucked in tight between the rocks," he shouted to his brother. "The only way we can get to her is head-on. She'll kill us then."
"Don't you worry none. We'll get her," Clifford called back.
She didn't believe she could become more terrified. Then Rosco shouted to his brother. "We going to starve her out of them rocks?"
"No, we'll rush her during the night. She won't see us coming at her in the dark."
She began to pray again. She knew their chances of surviving were almost nonexistent, but if God could please send them some help, she would be most appreciative. If He wanted one of them to die, then please let it be her. All of this was her fault, not Travis's, and he was just a good, decent man. He didn't deserve to die this way.
God didn't answer her prayer for what seemed like hours, and during that time she was taunted by the hoots and shouts of Clifford and Roscoe.
He did answer her though, and she realized then she should have been a little more specific with her request.
He sent her One-Eyed Jack.
"Miss Emily, are you all right?"
She heard the whisper coming from below the bluff.
"Who is it?" she whispered back.
No one answered until she repeated her question a second time.
"It's me-Jack."
"Jack? Is that really you?"
"I just said it was."
"Are you below Travis and me on the rocks?"
"I skittered out on a ledge. Don't worry; no one can get any higher without pitching off into the canyon."
"Jack, the O'Toole brothers are trying to kill us."
"I figured as much as soon as I heard the gunshots. I can't get to you, Miss Emily."
"Could you please go and get help? Travis was shot in the back."
"He's a goner then," Jack whispered.
"No," she screamed in denial.
"No call to shout at me."
She heard the stubborn edge in his voice and knew he was getting his back up. God, she didn't have time for this. Didn't Jack realize how dangerous their situation was?
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Oh, Jack, I'm so scared. Thank you for following us."
"I didn't do it for him. I did it for you. I'm taken with you, Miss Emily, and I've come to declare my intentions."
"Jack, now isn't the time," she cried out. "Please go and get help for us."
"It'll cost you. I'm wanting the five dollars back and five more so I can buy me some fancy courtin' clothes. Don't go getting the notion I'm wanting to marry you though. I got something else in mind."
She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't want him to waste time talking, but she knew Jack well enough to understand he couldn't be pushed. He would leave to get help when he was ready and not a second before.
"Don't you want to know what I'm wanting?"
"Yes, Jack, tell me what you want." She sounded frantic. She couldn't help it.
"I'm wanting you to have supper with me down at the dining room in the Pritchard hotel. You got to latch onto my arm and let me walk you in too, and you can't get up and leave 'fore I do. Is it a deal?"
"Yes, it's a deal."
"I'll be leaving then."
"Hurry, Jack, and be careful."
Travis groaned then, but Emily couldn't take her attention away from the entrance to their hideaway long enough to see if his eyes were open or closed.
"It's going to be all right, Travis," she whispered.
Clifford came flying across the entrance. She didn't even have time to cock her gun before he reached the other side. She had to put both hands on Travis's gun to keep it steady. Her arms were outstretched in front of her. Tears streamed down her face, but she didn't dare take her hand away from the gun to wipe them away. She needed to concentrate, and most of all, she needed to pray.
Travis opened his eyes and looked at her. He saw the gun in her hands, heard her sob low in her throat, and wanted more than anything to take her into his arms and comfort her. He couldn't move. He knew something was wrong, yet he couldn't figure out what it was. He thought he must be pinned against something, and whatever it was was burning the hell out of his back.
He tried to focus on his surroundings. Emily was sitting in front of him with her back pressed up against his chest. There were two long lines side by side in the dirt leading up to her, and he had to think about it for a long while before he realized someone had dragged something heavy across the narrow clearing.