The Gunfighter and the Heiress - By Carol Finch Page 0,21

him to take off at a dead run to track down the snipers. Van was accustomed to facing danger alone—and doing it immediately. However, with Bart down and Natalie unprotected, he hesitated to race off.

“Oh, God!” Natalie gasped as she stared at the bloodstain that soaked the sleeve of Bart’s expensive jacket. “Are you all right?”

“Does having your arm hurt like blazing hell count as all right?” Bart asked with a grimace.

“Take off your jacket and let’s see how bad it is.” She craned her neck to survey the departing backs of the crowd. “Is there a doctor available?”

“I don’t need a doctor,” Bart murmured as he carefully peeled off his jacket to see the red stains on his left shirtsleeve. “I have Van.”

Natalie blinked owlishly as Crow knelt beside his friend. He retrieved a knife from his left boot to cut open the sleeve of the white shirt to assess the injury.

“Four inches to the right and you’d have a serious problem, Bartholomew,” Crow said as he blotted the wound with the hem of Bart’s shirt.

“Glad my luck held,” he panted as he tried to lever himself into an upright position. His face turned white as salt and he wilted back to the ground. “Go find the men who shot at us and give them my regards.”

Crow shook his head. “First things first. I’m taking you and Sunshine to your rooms for safekeeping. Then I’ll track down those bastards.”

Natalie swallowed uneasily as her gaze darted up the side of the brick building to survey the place where the shots had been fired. She felt ill, certain the bastards Crow referred to were Avery Marsh, Thurston Kimball and their hired assassins. How had they managed to find her so quickly?

However they accomplished the feat, their gunmen nearly disposed of her new husband and accidentally hit Bart. Or had they been aiming at her and missed…?

“Dear God,” she wheezed, her blood practically turning to ice in her veins at the awful thought of Crow or Bart Collier dying because of her. In addition, she hadn’t signed the marriage license so the fortune was still up for grabs.

“What’s wrong?” Van glanced every way at once. “Did you spot someone on the roof of the butcher shop again?”

“No.” Natalie inhaled several cathartic breaths and told herself to calm down now that the danger had passed—for the moment, at least. “What can I do to help Bart?”

“Let’s get him on his feet after I apply a tourniquet to stop the bleeding.”

With the tourniquet in place, Crow clutched Bart’s good arm and gently drew him into a sitting position. Together Natalie and Crow hoisted Bart to his feet. He staggered slightly but gritted his teeth and moved forward under his own power as best he could. Natalie and Crow wrapped their arms around his back for additional support as they headed toward the Simon House.

Once the shooting had stopped, the crowd converged to see who had been hurt. Natalie gnashed her teeth when someone in the middle of the crowd commented the shooting didn’t surprise him, considering who the groom was.

“What is the matter with you people?” she burst out. “Donovan Crow is a good and decent man and—”

“It’s all right, I’m used to—” Crow tried to interrupt but she was having none of that.

“This is my husband and I demand you show him the consideration and respect he deserves—”

“Sun—”

“He travels the country, capturing vicious criminals who prey on all of you and yet you—”

“Sunshine—”

“—went running when trouble arose,” she said, talking over him. “Any of you volunteering to help Crow hunt down the bushwhackers? No? I thought not. You cowered behind his gun. But thank you so much for partaking of the free food and drink at our reception, and then running like cowards while Crow covered everyone who turned tail and ran.”

Natalie huffed out an agitated breath as she motioned for the crowd to move out of their way. When Bart grinned at her—in between painful grimaces—she glared at him. “Why are you smiling? You’ve been shot.”

“I thought this marriage might be a mismatch,” Bart mumbled. “I was mistaken. What Van does with his weapons you can do with words. I’ll have to strive to be that animated when I’m arguing my next case in court.”

Natalie tried to get past her anger and indignation but it wasn’t easy. When she glanced at Crow, he raised his eyebrows and bit back an amused smile. He didn’t have a damn thing to smile about, either,