Page 34 of Wrangling Her Heart
Tillie looked back at the sticky dough in the bowl. “I hope so,” she mumbled.
The forest was silent, with only the smell of sulfur remaining from spent cartridges. The gang was surprised when Devin Moore found them so quickly and the sound of gunfire rangthrough the air.
“How badly are you bleeding?” Briggs asked.
With a grimace, Rex winced as he peeled back the torn piece of shirt he’d wrapped around his arm, revealing a warm, sticky mess.
“It ain’t nothing,” he grumbled, putting the cloth back into place.
Briggs eyed him skeptically, his brows furrowing beneath his hat brim. “Reckon you’re gonna need some stitching up when we get back.”
“Yeah...” Rex murmured, eyes scanning the darkening horizon. “Did you see which way they were shooting from?”
“I think it was over there.” After reaching into his pocket, Briggs produced a handful of cartridges. He swung open the cylinder of his revolver and let the empty shells drop to the ground. Carefully, he reloaded each chamber before snapping the barrel shut and tucking the gun back into its holster.
There was a rustling sound in the nearby undergrowth, causing Rex to hold his breath. Suddenly, Devin emerged from the bushes and began crawling on his belly towards them.
“Looks like there are a dozen of them,” he hissed. “I saw a girl. They have her tied up.”
“Any sign of Whit?” Rex asked.
Devin shook his head. “It’s too dark to see their faces. The little lady, however, she sticks out like a pig in mud.”
“Do you think we can get her out of there?” Briggs asked.
“I don’t know. There are a few people watching over her. My suggestion would be to come around the other side.”
“Okay. Rex, you stay here. Devin, you go that way and I’ll go around back.”
“I don’t think we should split up, Briggs.”
“You should probably head home then, Hartman.” Briggs hastily got up onto his knees and hurriedly crawled towards Esther’s location. Devin was preparing to move when they heard the thundering sound of horse hooves coming closer.
Rex pressed his back against the rough bark of the tree, straining to see through the thick foliage. The sound of hooves pounding against the ground grew louder, and he cautiously peered around the trunk. He saw a group of armed riders enter the camp, their voices booming in the night air. As they gathered around the fire, Rex’s eyes widened in shock as he recognized Whit pouring coffee on the flames, the light dancing on his skin. Suddenly, he stood up and started yelling at the men.
Rex leaned in towards his brother, straining to hear the hushed conversation.
His brother’s voice grew louder as he approached, but as Rex took a step forward, the toe of his boot caught on something solid. He stumbled and looked down to see George Youngerman’s face staring up at him, the eyes dull and unseeing. A chill ran down Rex’s spine as he realized what had happened.
A deep, crimson cut stretched from one ear to the other appeared on George’s neck. It was a gruesome sight that made his stomach turn.
“Looks like he’s been dead for a while,” Devin said, looking over Rex’s shoulder.
“Probably after they left town this morning.”
Suddenly, a shot rang out into the darkness, followed by several more. Rex and Devin ducked down. They could see Briggs engaged in gunfire with several of the outlaws. Even Whit drew his gun.
Rex couldn’t believe his eyes to see his own brother firingabove the marshal’s head.
As the final gunshot rang out, Whit quickly mounted his horse and pulled Esther onto the saddle in front of him, using her as a shield against any stray bullets. His breaths came in quick gasps as they galloped away from danger.
Rex was dumbstruck.
His mind was whirling, trying to process what he had just seen. His brother, his own flesh and blood, a part of the outlaw gang? It made little sense. Whit had always been wild, but this was beyond anything Rex could have imagined.
“Get your head straight, Hartman,” Devin hissed at him, breaking through his stunned silence. “We need to move.”
Rex shook off his confusion and followed Devin as they circled the clearing. He could see Briggs from the corner of his eye, still exchanging gunfire with the remaining outlaws. His heart pounded in his chest like a drum as they slid between the trees, inching closer to the encampment. The moon hid behind a cloud, casting everything in deep shadow. They crept forward, their breaths shallow and quiet against the night’s stillness.
