“There is no fight here,” I said. “Nothing is wrong. Do you understand me, Robert? Everything is all right.”
“And why,” he asked, taking his eyes off Neds for just a moment to look at me, “do you think I would listen to you?”
The chill behind those words was enough to stop me cold.
I was standing so close he could touch me. Which was hopefully close enough that I could stop him from firing that gun on Neds.
He turned the gun on me.
Oh, hell, no.
I grabbed his wrist and swept his foot. The gun fired.
“Go,” I yelled to the Neds. “Get out of here.”
Robert swung at my head.
I ducked, holding on to his hand and twisting his arm to make him drop the gun.
He yelled, because, hey, one of us was used to feeling things like pain, and that was me. The other one of us had spent years without any sensation.
The gun dropped. He tripped up my feet, and we tumbled to the floor. I hit my head on something, maybe the footboard of the bed, and twisted away from him.
He was shouting nonstop, though I was only catching about every third word.
“Bitch . . . will do as I say . . . own you . . . use you . . . throw you away.”
I scrambled onto hands and knees, looking for that damn gun, spotted it the same time he did, and kicked it under the bed and out of both of our reach.
I dove for my revolver, pulled it up, and swung it his way.
That’s when I realized the room was full of people.
“The hell happened?” Abraham yelled.
“. . . okay, Matilda?” Dotty asked.
I was shaking and the slick heat of blood coated my throat. Maybe I’d gotten a little more banged up than I thought.
“You’re all right,” Abraham said, walking toward me with his hands up. “Put down the gun, Matilda. This won’t be solved with bullets.”
Yeah, I thought that a minute ago too. Changed my mind.
“Matilda.” Abraham touched my shoulder gently, his voice calm. “Don’t shoot him.”
Robert was already being escorted more than firmly out of the room by Buck and Loy.
Dotty and Helen remained in the room with Abraham and me. Helen was looking out the window.
“Was there someone else here?” Dotty asked.
I glanced at the blood on the floor. Maybe mine. Maybe Neds.
“No one out there,” Helen said. “You want to try to explain this?” She turned her scowl on me like this was my fault.
“She’ll explain in front of Welton,” Abraham said. “I don’t want any misunderstanding or contention in this.” He was back to using his official, I-will-be-obeyed voice.
Helen nodded, and she and Dotty left the room.
