Page 73 of The Promise
As if in echo of his sentiment, another shot stirred the dust of the yard, this one only a few feet away. Answering gunfire echoed from the porch.God bless her. "Come on, old man. It's now or never. You got to help me get you to the house."
Patrick struggled to his feet, Pete pushing up beside him. Wrapping his arm around the ranch hand's waist, Patrick braced himself and the two of them began to stagger back toward the porch. Pete groaned as another bullet struck him in the arm, blood burgeoning across his sleeve. He sank, dead weight against Patrick.
"Come on, just three more steps. You can do it."
Gritting his teeth, Pete rallied and together they made it across the last few feet of ground and up the steps, bullets raining all around them. Loralee lowered the rifle, her face pinched with fear. Grabbing Pete from the other side, she helped Patrick get him in the house. Behind them, a bullet ricocheted onto the porch, imbedding itself in the floor where they'd been standing.
"How many doyou think there are?" Pete was propped up against the back wall, arm extended while Loralee cleaned it. She tried to hang onto her control, concentrating on the injury and not the situation.
"I don't know. Maybe only one." Patrick was crouched under the window, his back to them, watching the barnyard.
She dipped a rag in a basin, then carefully sponged away more of Pete's blood. "Do you think it's Amos?"
"Maybe. Hell, probably." Patrick answered without looking back at them.
"Well, whoever the son of a bitch is, he has us pinned." Pete grimaced as she probed the wound.
"I'm sorry." She glanced up at his face and saw that his eyes were closed. Wringing the rag out, she dipped it in the now red water.
"How's Pete?" Patrick asked.
"I ain't dead, ya know. I can speak for myself."
"I know. I meant your injuries."
Pete shifted, trying to find a comfortable place to sit. "The arm's not bad. The bullet passed clean through."
"And the leg?"
"Not so good. I think the bullet's lodged next to the bone."
Loralee bit back an exclamation. What they didn't need right now was an hysterical female. She placed a compress against both sides of Pete's wound and bound his arm with a strip of linen torn from a sheet. "There, that ought to help with the bleeding."
"Much obliged, ma'am." Pete tried for a smile, but missed by a long shot. "See anything out there?"
Loralee looked over at Patrick. Tension tightened the lines of his shoulders. "Not a damn thing."
"Can't we just crawl out the windows or something?" She hated the tremor in her voice.
Patrick crossed the room in a crouch, settling in beside them. "Wouldn't do us any good. There's just these two." He indicated the windows fronting the porch. "And the ones in the bedrooms. They all face the same way. Michael's idea. He thought it would help keep the house warm."
"But surely there's some way out of this?" She saw the two men exchange a look and her fear increased, threatening to explode into full blown panic.
"'Fraid not, Miss Loralee," Pete said. "Unless he gets tired and heads for home."
"Or help arrives." She knew she was clutching at straws. "What about your friend, Owen?" She might not like the man, but she'd happily cook him meals for a week if he'd get them out of this.
"Not a chance. He doesn't know anything about this. I didn't have time to tell him. I was so intent on getting you out here." Patrick met her gaze, his face clouded with guilt. "Loralee, I'm so sorry."
"Oh fiddle sticks, there's no way you could have known Amos would do this. You did what you thought was right." She reached over and squeezed his arm. "Right now, you have to help me do something about Pete's leg. I don't know much about this sort of thing, but I do know the bullet ought to come out."
Pete groaned. "I think I'd rather we just leave it be."
She rolled up her sleeves. "Well, Mr. Reeder, I don't think I'm giving you a choice."
"See anything?"
Patrick felt her come up behind him, her soft scent filling his nose. What had he done? He had promised she'd be safe and now look at the mess they were in. "Nothing. How's Pete?"
