“One’ll do the job, Mama,” Will said. “Give him the left and save the right barrel for the next one.”
“Share and share alike,” Mama said with a gritty smile. “Come on, ladies. Son, if it comes to fighting, kill these men. All of them. We’ll be praying for you.”
Will nodded.
There was no time for drawn-out goodbyes.
Maggie darted in, gave him a quick kiss, and followed the other women toward the bunkhouse.
Will saddled Clyde, secured the Blakeslee box, and mounted up, gripping the Spencer rifle. The cut-down messenger gun was still slung over his other shoulder.
“Well, Clyde, we’re in for it now. You ready for some action?”
The big horse tossed his head, ready as always.
Will rode to the northeast corner of the barn, where he could keep an eye on the space in front of the house without exposing himself to riders coming from the south.
A short distance away, his house was completely dark. To the raiders, it would look like everyone was still asleep.
Between there and here, the cattle crowded the gate, making a lot of noise, restless, the men’s tension having riled them up.
Will peered out toward the lane. His eyes had adapted to the night, and there was enough of a moon out that he could see clearly all the way to the hedgerow, but beyond those trees, all was darkness.
He wasn’t happy with this plan. As a veteran cavalryman, he preferred to stay on the offensive. Depending on how many men were coming, however, Will and his friends might be able to drive them back.
But if Teal had his whole outfit…
Well, if that was the case, Will and his friends would just have to fight their hardest and go to their graves knowing they’d died fighting like men.
He only hoped, if that happened, that Teal would search the house, find it empty, and assume the women had fled. Which seemed likely.
Will did not fear death and wasted no time worrying, but when he spotted a double column of torches trotting up the lane and he estimated their count, he nodded grimly to himself.
Death, then.
There was a flicker of regret, mostly to do with Maggie and the future they might have shared, but he squashedit immediately, recognizing all such sentiment as weakness… especially in a moment like this.
A moment where Will Bentley must become a killing machine. If not to survive then to punish those who meant to kill him.
It was Teal, all right.
Who else could summon so many night riders?
Twenty-three by Will’s count.
Twenty-three to five.
Long odds indeed.
So be it.
A familiar calm settled over him, tinged in red. He hadn’t felt this in a long time, not since his last full-scale battle.
The killing calm.
He welcomed it like the old friend it was and felt the thrill of impending action as two columns of men rode onto the property and massed themselves in front of the house, their faces weird and savage and indistinct in the flickering torchlight, less like the faces of men and more akin to crude masks carved by some primitive tribe that worshipped gods of blood and fire.
One of these men must be Teal.
