Bullets were suddenly flying everywhere. Skylar let out a screech, covering her head. A burning arrow sizzled into a beam directly over her.
Sloan was above her, trying to draw her from the line of fire. She heard war cries screeching all around her. Sioux cries, the terrifying sound they let out before bearing down on their enemies.
“Get in!” Sloan commanded her. She saw that he’d found a rifle by the hearth. As he dragged her in, he thrust it toward Sabrina. “Get shells, load it!”
“I’ll shoot you!” Sabrina retorted, but she had the rifle in her hands and was digging into a wooden box of ammunition even as she spoke.
Another shot tore into the cabin. Sabrina screeched and shoved the rifle at Sloan. He took it. Skylar looked up, gasping. A half dozen arrows had made it into the cabin. Smoke was billowing all around them.
It was going to burn.
“We’ve got to get out,” Sloan shouted.
Skylar came to her feet. Sabrina balked. “We’ll be shot. We can’t go?—”
“Damn it, we’ve got to get out!” Sloan repeated. Skylar was stunned when he grabbed her sister furiously by the arm, dragging her up.
Skylar shrieked, seeing that George had leaped into the burning cabin. His rifle was aimed at Sloan.
A shot exploded. Sloan didn’t go down. George did.
Skylar saw Hawk standing behind him. She let out a glad cry, starting to race toward him. But even as she did, she saw Dillman directly behind her husband. He was raising his rifle.
“No!” she shrieked.
Hawk fell and rolled with lightning-quick reflexes. Dillman’s first shot went off, hitting the wall. He didn’t seem to realize that the cabin was burning, that fiery timber was beginning to fall everywhere. He started for Skylar, taking aim with his rifle once again.
“Bastard!” she shrieked. He was going to kill her. It had come to this. She was going to die. But he wasn’t going to get away with it. Hawk would kill him. And at long last, everyone would know the truth about Brad Dillman.
Despite the gun, she leaped for him. She slammed against him just as the gun fired. They went down to the ground together.
She felt no pain.
Dillman was screaming.
Skylar, dazed by the fall and the swirl of smoke she continued to breathe, realized dimly that Brad Dillman’s rifle had misfired. Perhaps it had gotten too hot. Perhaps he’d had faulty cartridges. But the weapon had failed to discharge properly. She was alive, and he was screeching in pain. Because there was a knife in his chest. Hawk had thrown it to keep Dillman from shooting Skylar. And as he had fallen, the knife had been pressed further and further into his body…
Skylar hadn’t the sense at that moment to scramble to her feet. She just stared at Dillman. He was really dying. He was in great pain.
He stared at her. “I should have killed you with your old man. Nits make lice.” He started to laugh. He choked on his own blood.
She was suddenly wrenched up in strong arms. Hawk’s arms. He carried her out of the cabin.
Macy was dead on the ground where he had fallen. The two aides had been hit by rifle fire.
Willow, Ice Raven, and Blade were mounted before the cabin, waiting, watching the fire.
Sabrina was on her knees, smudged, sooty, trying to breathe. Sloan, in similar condition, stood by her side. Skylar realized he had pulled her sister from the flames.
She realized that somehow, they had all known that she and Hawk would come from the blaze as well.
Just as they had somehow known that they were needed.
“Thank you,” Hawk said simply.
Willow shrugged. “We wanted to play Indian with you once again.”
“But how?—”
