Page 72 of The Promise
Arless stood up. "I'll go. Might as well do something to earn my keep."
He ambled toward the door, shooting a last loving look in the direction of the food. "Don't you go eatin' it all while I'm gone, Patrick."
"Don't worry, Arless, I'll leave some for you."
Satisfied, the man opened the door and stepped onto the porch.
A shot rang out, its report echoing through the house.
Patrick jumped out of his chair, already reaching for his rifle. "Get down."
Loralee dropped to the floor, her face ashen. "What is it?"
"Probably nothing. Stay here. I'll go see." Crouching below window height, he ran across the room, slowing as he reached the open door. Carefully he edged into the doorway, his gaze darting around the barnyard, trying to locate the source of the noise.
"Arless? You out there?" He waited, holding his breath, silence permeating the air. When nothing moved, he took a cautious step out onto the porch, the floor creaking beneath him.
A low moan broke the stillness. "Stay back, Loralee." He tossed the words over his shoulder, his gaze moving along the ground in front of him, trying to locate the source of the cry. A crimson stained mound about halfway between the porch and the corral shifted. Arless. The old miner lay in the grass, clutching his middle, his shirt red with blood.
Patrick had just started to step off the porch when Pete burst from the confines of the stable, his Colt drawn, motioning Patrick to stay put. Reaching Arless, he knelt beside him, one hand assessing the damage while the other held the gun ready.
It was quiet again. Almost too quiet. A shiver of dread ran up Patrick's spine. Pete slowly stood up, pulling Arless with him. The other man was dead weight and it took him a minute to find his balance.
Patrick scanned the trees that surrounded the place, but if anyone was out there, he was well hidden. Pete took a step forward, Arless draped against him. Another shot rang out.Pete's eyes widened and he dropped Arless as he fell backward. Patrick had never felt so helpless.
"Loralee, get out here." She was beside him in an instant. "Can you shoot this thing?" He held out the rifle.
"I can manage." She took the gun.
He nodded, relieved she wasn't the swoon-in-a-crisis type. "All right. Here's what we're going to do. I'm going out there?—"
"No." Her hand shot out and she clamped her fingers around his arm.
He ignored her panic, keeping his voice low and soothing. "I want you to cover me. I've got to try and get them back to the house."
She released his arm. "All right. But how will I know where to shoot?"
"You won't. Just keep moving the barrel each time you fire. Hopefully, that'll keep whoever's out there busy enough to buy me some time." She squared her shoulders, lifting the rifle. "Don't fire unless he does. There's a small chance he's gone. And we don't want to waste bullets." If he was right, they were going to need all the bullets they could get.
"Patrick?" He met her frightened gaze. "Be careful."
He grinned with a bravado he didn't feel. "All right. I'm going." He crouched as low as he could and scrambled across the yard, running in zigzags toward Pete and Arless. Bullets shattered the dust at his feet. Answering shots rang out from the porch.
Reaching the fallen men, he dropped to his knees. Arless was on his back, sightless eyes staring at the clouds above him, his gut torn open from the impact of the shot. Pete was face down in the dirt.
Patrick shifted over, flinching as another shot rang out. He couldn't tell if it came from their assailant or Loralee. A deep red stain had blossomed across the back of Pete's thigh. Gingerly,Patrick rolled him over, relieved to see the even rise and fall of the man's chest.
"Pete, can you hear me?" Pete wasn't a small man. Without his help, Patrick wasn't sure he could manage.
The older man groaned and opened his eyes. "What the hell happened?"
"Don't know for sure. Someone's shooting at us."
Pete nodded. "Arless?"
"Dead."
Pete closed his eyes, regret tightening his face. "Damn it to hell."
