Page 84 of The Promise
She frantically tried to assimilate the information, to decide what to do. If she shot at the barn, she'd alert the other man to her presence, most likely drawing his fire. But if she stayed quiet, the other man was far more likely to notice Michael. And even if Michael successfully got Amos, he'd have no way of knowing about the second man.
Her stomach churned. Of course, there were the people in the house, but she had no idea what condition they were in. Besides, they'd be sitting ducks if they so much as opened the door.
She closed her eyes, willing herself to make a decision—the right decision.
Grabbing the rifle, she sprang to her feet using the tall pines for cover. She had to get to Michael. If she hurried, maybe she could stop him in time. Warn him. Then they could rethink their position.
She sprinted to the edge of the trees, her heart beating a staccato rhythm high in her throat as she kept her eyes on the stand of pines. From this angle, she ought to be protected from view.Ought to be. That was the operative phrase.
She sucked in a breath and then blew it out forcefully. It was now or never. Tightening her hold on the Winchester, she began to run.
23
The contrast between the light of day and the shadows of the barn was dramatic. Cara stopped, waiting for her eyes to adjust, the pungent smell of hay and animals filling her nose. It seemed that barns smelled like barns in any century. The thought was somehow reassuring. She combed the shadows looking for some sign of Michael, but in the gloom it was hard to see anything clearly.
Something hard rammed into her back. She spun around, heart pounding, rifle at the ready. A pair of baleful brown eyes met hers, and she relaxed, biting back a nervous laugh. A dilapidated looking old horse hung his head over the wooden crossbar of his stall, butting against her for attention.
She pushed him away, turning back to the stable, searching the darkness for a sign of Michael or the gunman. Nothing moved. Everything was quiet except for the soft sound of horses shifting in their stalls.
She took a hesitant step forward, followed by another, careful to stay low and silent, certain her tympanic heartbeat could be heard from every corner of the barn. A soft noise filtered through the silence, so faint she almost thought she'd imagined it. Shefroze, her back pressed against the hard post of a stall, her eyes straining into the gloom. There, in the darkness, a shadow moved, stepping forward into a weak shaft of sunlight coming from the loft.
Michael.
She released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and started for the front of the barn, her heart resuming a more modulated rhythm. Michael had stepped into the shadows again, but she could see him now that she knew where to look. He was examining a ladder that led to the loft. She picked up her pace, not daring to call out to him.
The old horse evidently had other plans. With a loud neigh, he announced her presence. Michael turned to look toward his stall just as another shape detached itself from the shadows in the loft above. Cara's heart caught in her throat. The shadow took on human form. A man with a gun—a gun pointed at Michael's back.
Reacting on instinct, she pulled her rifle into position and fired. The sound was deafening. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Michael drop to the ground and she realized a second shot had been fired. Rage and adrenaline pumped through her. She lifted the rifle again, intent on killing the son of a bitch who'd started all this.
The man spun around, looking for the source of the gunfire. She inched forward. He crouched, peering into the dark—still looking for her. Michael moved and the gunman pivoted, bringing his rifle to bear.
Cara stepped out into the open, eyes narrowed, her weapon already sighted. "Wrong way, you bastard."
He turned and she fired.
This time the impact knocked him off his feet, throwing him backward out of the loft. His body landed with an audible thud, in the center of the barn. Still enraged, she pumped anotherbullet into him, watching dispassionately as he jerked once and was still.
"That one was for Michael." Her whispered words swirled through the air and faded into silence. Her rage vanished as quickly as it had come, instantly replaced by fear.Michael. She had to get to Michael. She stepped forward, but her legs had turned to butter and with a squeak of protest, she slid to the ground still clutching the rifle.
"Cara?" Michael's voice was like an infusion of energy. She struggled to her feet just as he rounded the corner, apparently unharmed. The relief almost made her collapse again and she leaned against the Winchester for support.
His arms closed around her as he reached her side and she buried her face in the familiar warmth of his chest, trying to get control of her rollercoastering emotions. They stood like that for a moment, locked together in silent communion. Then Michael pushed her back, holding her at arm's length, his eyes smoldering. "What in hell were you doing in here?"
Cara felt a flash of resentment. "Saving your ass. If I'm not mistaken, thatgentleman," she gestured towards the body in the doorway, "was about to blow you away."
The anger faded from his eyes and with a groan he pulled her to him, his mouth closing over hers, his hands holding her tightly against him. The kiss was quick and hard and thorough. She stared over Michael's shoulder at the fallen man, clarity returning. "There's someone else out there."
"Where?" Michael was instantly alert.
"In the stand of pines by the corral. I saw his gun barrel. I came to warn you."
"You're sure?"
"Positive."
"All right. I'll check it out. You," he tipped her head back so that he could see her eyes, "stay here."
"Can you see what's happening?"Loralee peered out the window, trying to see what had caused all the commotion.
