he might lose his breakfast at any moment. They continued to talk loudly enough for their voices to echo off the jutting rocks as the wagon approached the midpoint.
As expected, a figure appeared at the end of the ravine, a bandana covering the lower half of his face. He aimed a rifle their way. “Stop right there, boys,” he called out. “Slowly unbuckle your gun belts, and drop them to the ground.”
Gorge rose up Daniel’s throat as he engaged the brake. He and Charles did as they were told, and their gun belts landed on the ground, creating a dull thunk.
“Get down from there and keep your hands where I can see ’em. I’ll be taking the wagon from here,” the outlaw said as he slowly approached.
Keeping their eyes on the man with the gun, exactly as they had when they’d been murdered, he and Charles climbed down. The back of Daniel’s neck prickled and sweat dripped down his temples at the barely audible sound of footsteps coming from behind them. Where the hell were their men?
“Now,” Daniel shouted. He dove under the wagon, snatched his gun belt, and dragged it toward him. He drew his revolver, cocked the trigger and aimed it at the man holding the rifle.
“Hands up. We have you surrounded,” Sheriff Ramsey’s voice boomed through the ravine.
All hell broke loose then. Shots zinged through the air, the sound echoing off the walls. Daniel aimed carefully, pulled the trigger, and hit the rifleman in the knee. The mules brayed and tried to bolt, but the weight of the wagon held them.
Charles gasped and cried out. “I’ve been hit.”
“Where?” Daniel dragged himself through the dirt to get to Charles.
“My right side,” Charles bit out through gritted teeth.
One of the mules shrieked in terror. A loud CRACK echoed through the ravine, and the mules bolted, taking the wagon with them a several yards before breaking free. Blood spattered the ground as the pair tore off, dragging the wagon’s tongue behind them. “Damn,” Daniel hissed as he pressed his hands against the wound on Charles’s side, trying to slow the bleeding. They were fish in a barrel now—without cover as bullets continued to ricochet off the cliffs. He threw himself over his wounded friend and closed his eyes.
Everything went quiet. Daniel remained where he was, protecting Charles from further injury.
“We got all three,” the sheriff said as he and Nathaniel lifted him from Charles. “Let me take a look at Hannigan here. I have some experience with gunshot wounds.”
Daniel’s hands were covered with sticky blood, and his entire body shook. His eyes stung as he watched Bill gently turn Charles to his back. Charles groaned, and his face was tight with pain and pale as milk.
“The bleeding is slowing, and I believe the bullet it lodged in muscle. Doesn’t appear as if vital organs were hit. If he hadn’t been on the ground, it might’ve gone on through.” the sheriff said. “Let’s get him to the doc in town. He’ll check him over and patch him up.”
His knees went weak with relief, and Daniel let go of the breath he’d been holding. He took off his shirt. “Here. You can tear this up and use the strips to bind the wound. How’re we supposed to get him to the doc with no horses. The hitch of our wagon broke free, and God only knows where the mules are or what shape they’re in. I know for sure one of them took a bullet.”
“Ben and Fred are out looking for the mules, and Anthony is on his way into Garretsville for help. Besides Charles here, we’ve got three corpses to haul to town.”
“Don’t … want to … ride in the same wagon as … the dead,” Charles eked out between gritted teeth.
“Can’t say as I blame you.” Bill used a knife to cut Daniel’s shirt into strips. “Help me sit him up, Dan. We’ll get him bandaged as best we can, and you and I will carry him to town if we have to.”
Daniel sank to the ground beside the man who’d been his best friend since the two of them were wee lads still in nappies. He couldn’t prevent a tear or two from sliding down his cheeks. Thank God he was sweating profusely enough to camouflage the drops running down his face. He propped Charles up to sitting and helped strip him to the waist. The sheriff folded a strip into a square and covered the oozing bullet hole