Turning, he moved at a fast walk up the street toward the marshal’s office. That made him stand out, because everybody else who was moving around today was going about it pretty slowly because of the heat. Ike Loomis was standing in the open double doorway of his livery barn, and he called, “Where you goin’ in such an all-fired hurry, Sam?”
“I need to find Marshal Coleman,” Sam replied as he stopped. “Have you seen him?”
“Nope. I just got back from visitin’ with Mike. He’s awake now and seems to be doin’ pretty good.”
Sam nodded. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said honestly. “He may well have saved my life.”
“If I see Marsh, I’ll tell him you’re lookin’ for him.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Sam said. He hurried on toward the marshal’s office.
When he got there, he saw that the door was still standing open. Coleman had opened both the front and back doors earlier, to let whatever breeze there might be blow through the building. So far it hadn’t done anything to dissipate the heat, Sam discovered as he stepped inside. It was sweltering in there, just as it had been when he left.
He frowned as he saw that Coleman wasn’t in the office. The cell block was quiet. It was too hot even for the prisoners to bitch. Sam felt a pang of worry and dropped his hand to the butt of his Colt as he stepped over to peer through the window in the cell block door. He thought for a second that the prisoners might have escaped somehow, but he could see that the cells were all closed securely and the prisoners were still locked up inside.
Coleman could have gone to his house for a few minutes. That was the most likely explanation since Sam hadn’t spotted him on the street. He turned and walked out of the office, heading for the lawman’s home.
He heard Lobo barking before he reached the house. The little dog sounded upset about something, but that didn’t really mean anything. Sam had been around dogs all his life and knew that they often carried on like that for no good reason.
But the possibility that Lobo
“Lobo, what’s wrong?” Sam called as he opened the gate. He started up the walk toward the house.
Lobo turned and started barking at him then. The little bundle of gray and brown fur was definitely angry or scared or both, Sam thought. He bounded onto the porch and rapped his knuckles sharply against the doorjamb. Lobo kept barking.
Marshal Coleman opened the door a few seconds later and looked out at Sam through the screen. Sam felt relief go through him as he saw that the lawman seemed to be unhurt. Coleman didn’t look happy, though. He frowned as he glanced down at the dog and said sharply, “Hush, Lobo!”
Lobo gave a little whine, but he stopped barking.
Coleman looked at Sam and asked, “What is it?”
“There’s a lot of dust outside of town, Marshal,” Sam reported. “Appears to be a big bunch of riders coming.”
“Why are you tellin’ me about it?”
It was Sam’s turn to frown. “Well…I thought you’d like to know.”
“People come and go all the time,” Coleman said stiffly. “I don’t reckon it’s anything to worry about. Just go on back to the office, Sam.”
“It could be Cimarron Kane and his family coming back to cause more trouble,” Sam pointed out.
Coleman waved a hand in dismissal. “On a hot day like this? I don’t reckon even Kane’s that crazy. No, Sam, just go on back to the office and don’t worry so much.”
Why was Coleman so insistent that he go back to the office? Sam wondered. He had just been there a few minutes earlier, and everything seemed fine.
Unless Coleman didn’t really care where he went. The marshal just wanted him to get away from here, Sam realized. That meant if there was something wrong, it was probably going on right here, and Sam knew that Coleman would want to protect Hannah above all else…
But who or what could be threatening her?
Lobo had stopped barking, but he continued to make angry little growling noises deep in his throat. He stood stiffly next to Sam’s boots, and suddenly, as Coleman pushed open the screen door and snapped at Sam, “Well, go on,” Lobo shot forward through the narrow gap. He darted past Coleman’s feet, prompting a startled exclamation from the marshal, and raced across the room, snarling.
Coleman jerked around, lines of terror suddenly appearing on his weathered face. “No!” he cried.
Sam jerked the screen door open and rushed inside even as the wicked crack of a gunshot sounded. Somewhere inside the room, which was dimly lit because all the curtains were pulled, Hannah screamed. Sam shouldered Coleman aside and drew his gun at the same time. He caught a glimpse of Hannah struggling with a man, holding on to his arm and trying to keep him from shooting again. Down around the man’s feet, Lobo nipped furiously at his ankles.
“Drop the gun!” Sam ordered as he raised his Colt, but the man ignored the command. Instead, he slashed a brutal backhanded blow across Hannah’s face, knocking her away from him. At the same time, the small-caliber pistol in his hand jerked up and gouted flame and lead again.
Sam was in the line of fire and might have been hit if someone hadn’t knocked him aside. He heard Coleman grunt in pain, and realized that the marshal had shoved him out of the way and taken the bullet meant for him. There was no time to see how badly Coleman was hurt, though, because there was still the threat of the intruder to deal with. Sam snapped a shot at him, but the man twisted aside just in time to avoid the bullet. Sam couldn’t pull the trigger again because Hannah cried out, “Dad!” and lunged toward her wounded father, putting herself in the line of fire.
The intruder didn’t worry about endangering her. His pistol cracked again, and what felt like a giant fist
