pull the remaining passenger, who appeared shaken but otherwise all right, from the cab but made no attempt to retrieve the driver. Others went to check on the men thrown from the truck. One was standing, though he appeared to be favoring a leg; two others were apparently beyond help as no one stopped long to assist them; the fourth man was alive and trying to crawl. The others held a short conference around him, and then one pointed his rifle and shot the man.
Ned didn’t need any more encouragement to spur his horse back to the cabin. He hoped that the attackers would lose heart and leave, but they were well armed and had come to do a job that wasn’t finished.
Riding back toward the cabin, Ned came upon Lucy’s horse, which he’d picked out especially for her because of its gentle gait and patience with an inexperienced rider. The horse was thrashing about, trying to get up on a broken leg. Cursing the men in the trucks and promising revenge for what he had to do, Ned drew his Colt and put the animal out of its misery.
Reaching the cabin, Ned dismounted and removed the saddle from his mare. He gave her a whack and sent her scampering off, kicking and bucking in delight at what she thought was a day off to spend on the prairie. He took another look at the men with the trucks, who confirmed his fears that they weren’t finished as they had jumped into the remaining truck and were approaching the cabin, although at a more circumspect pace.
Ned started to reach for the handle of the cabin door when he was slammed against the wood. Realizing he’d been hit and that other bullets were striking the logs of the cabin near him, he flung himself through the door as Lucy opened it.
Lucy saw the blood on his denim shirt and screamed. “Ned!” she cried. “You’ve been shot.”
Reaching down to feel his side and then looking at the hand now covered with blood, he winced. “I don’t think it’s bad.”
Ned got to his feet and took a quick look out the window. The truck was stopped fifty yards away, partly behind a large cottonwood. The men were standing around talking and gesturing toward the cabin, which lay across a fairly flat expanse of dirt and rock without much cover, except the occasional knee-high bit of sagebrush. He broke out the glass of the window with the barrel of his rifle and fired off a quick shot. It missed but had the effect of sending the attackers scrambling for cover behind the tree and truck.
Ned ducked back as they returned fire with their automatic rifles. Soon the windows were shot out, but the stout ponderosa pine logs absorbed the bullets like rain drops into a sponge.
Lucy crawled over to where he leaned against the cabin wall. She insisted on lifting his shirt-to her relief, the bullet appeared to have struck him in the lower ribs and exited clean out the other side. He wasn’t even bleeding as profusely as she would have thought, but she still felt she ought to bind the wound and get pressure on it.
“Hold on a sec,” he said. He figured he was up against eight men and wanted to try to even the odds a bit and make them think twice about rushing the cabin.
John Jojola had told him about a trick he’d used when outnumbered in Vietnam. The trick, Jojola had explained, was to
Ned stood next to the window then jumped into view before jumping back as the bullets flew. As soon as the others stopped shooting, he turned with the rifle already on his shoulder and eye sighted down the barrel. He pulled the trigger when the scene outside matched the one in his head.
Lucy who’d peeked out of the other front window, yelled, “Got one! And the others are staying low.”
Ned hoped he’d live long enough to tell Jojola that the trick worked. He risked a quick glimpse and saw his target trying to crawl back to the truck. There was a shot and the target lay still. “Guess these guys don’t think too much of each other,” Ned said.
“Or they don’t want anybody left behind to answer questions,” Lucy replied as she crawled back to where Ned was again resting against the wall. “Pretty soon, they’ll figure out that they can surround us.” She pulled her shirt off and started ripping it in strips to make a bandage.
“Who cares as long as I can look at those puppies,” he said, his eyes on her breasts as they jiggled in her bra, a little red push-up number she’d bought at Victoria’s Secret in Santa Fe, hoping to entice him into a little lovemaking under the stars later.
“Get serious, idiot,” Lucy said. “I swear, one look at a tit and men lose their minds. You’re bleeding and all you can think about is getting your grubby hands on my mammary glands. Now, let me get this wrapped around your ribs…and keep your mitts off the merchandise.”
“Yes’m,” Ned pouted, then his face got serious. “They don’t seem to be in a hurry, so maybe they know we don’t have a way of calling out. The good news is there’s only one way to come at us, through the front door and the front windows; the bad news is that’s the only way out of here, too, so they don’t have to watch a back door. They might try to burn us out, but that could be tough with the tin roof and these old treated logs. So I ’spect they’ll wait until dark before they try to rush us.”
An accented voice taunted outside. “Hey, cowboy, why do you hide behind a woman’s skirt. Come out and play!”
“Why don’t you come in and get us, you son of a bitch!” Lucy yelled. “The cops are on the way.”
A chorus of derisive hoots and laughter followed. “The woman speaks for him,” the voice shouted. “There are no cops…except two dead ones on the road.” Someone shouted in Arabic.
“Guess no one told them I speak the lingo,” Lucy said.
“What did he say?” Ned asked.
“He was telling the others that I’m not to be harmed, if possible,” she said.
“What?”
“Yeah, for some reason they’d prefer not to shoot me,” Lucy said. “Probably so they can take me alive and do all sorts of unspeakable things to my body.”
“You wish, you strumpet.” Ned grinned.
“Watch this,” Lucy said, jumping up suddenly and flinging the door open, standing in full view as Ned shouted for her to get down. Lucy stuck her tongue out at the men and calmly shut the door.
“What in the hell did you do that for?” Ned yelled at her.
“Calm down, cowboy,” she smiled. “I was just testing my theory. They’d like to shoot you, but they want me alive, warm, and wiggling.”
The man outside shouted again, this time in English. “You see, the girl is safe,” he said. “We only want you, cowboy. Come out and she lives.”
Ned thought for a moment, then got up painfully. He leaned the rifle against the wall and started to reach for the door, but Lucy pushed him back. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” she yelled.
“Giving myself up,” he said. “At least you’ll be alive and maybe John or somebody will be able to rescue you. If we wait until dark, they might shoot you whether they mean to or not.”
“Like hell you are,” she said and burst into tears. “I don’t want to live if you’re not here with me.”
“My choice, Lucy,” he said and pushed her to the side. He opened the door and stepped out with his hands up. Two of the attackers stood up when they saw he was unarmed. Grinning, one of the men raised his rifle…and was blown two feet backward as the bullet from the 30/30 crashed into his chest.
The others ducked as Lucy fired wildly in their direction, which gave Ned the opportunity to jump back inside the cabin. “What in the hell did you do that for?” he yelled as a fusillade of bullets splintered the door, sending him sprawling to the ground.
“Keeping your ass alive,” Lucy said grimly, wiping at the tears on her face. “I mean it, Ned, I’m in love with you, and I don’t want to grow up to be an old lady unless you’re my old man.”
Ned blushed. “I love you, too, Lucy. I’ve had more happiness in the past year than I expected to have in my entire life.”
“Then quit the brave cowboy shit. Besides, what do you think these assholes are keeping me alive for?” she said.
“Carnal desires?” he said, purposefully letting his eyes fall to her breasts again.
“Raise the gaze, buster,” Lucy said. “I realize this body is to die for, but that’s not why they want me.” Her face grew serious. “If they capture me, Ned, it’s to take me to Andrew Kane. I’d rather be dead ten times over
