Rough breathing beside her made her glance over. Riley held his gun tucked into his shoulder in firing position, but his face wore a grimace and he seemed to be struggling for air.
She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, then a patch of red caught her attention.
His arm.
She sucked in a breath. “What happened?” His shirt was ripped just above his elbow, and a circle of crimson had begun to spread from the torn fabric outward. The spot was the size of her fist, and blood pooled at the frayed edges, threatening to drip down to the ground.
Riley darted a glance at her, then refocused through the trees ahead. “Bullet grazed me.”
She moved her mare closer so she could see and touch his arm. “You were shot?”
“It’s not bad. Just brushed the skin.” Riley’s neck flexed as he tightened his jaw. He kept his focus ahead, scanning for danger. It didn’t look like he would let her check the injury until they’d identified the threat.
She glanced at all three men, then shifted her focus past the trees. “Any idea who it is?”
Ol’ Henry answered in a calmer voice than she would have expected. “Just one shot, so it might’ve been someone out hunting. Sounded like a fusee, which means it could’ve been Indian or white. Those are the guns most traded for by the tribes.”
“Look. There.” Dragoon’s hoarse whisper sounded just as Juniper caught a movement around the side of the slope.
A mountain man appeared, riding toward them on a bay and leading a white-gray pack horse. She studied his animals. Neither was Bessie, no doubt about that. The bay he rode was far too long-boned, with an angular brow and a curved Roman nose. The gray pack animal was the wrong color altogether. The man carried a rifle across his lap and seemed to be scrutinizing the mountainside.
“Who is he?” Rosie whispered just loud enough for their group to hear.
The stranger’s gaze caught on their trees at that moment, as though he’d heard her words. He couldn’t have, but he must have seen them through the leaves, for his rifle lifted from its resting place. Not aimed, exactly, just at the ready.
“He’s seen us. Best we meet face to face.” Ol’ Henry turned his mount to maneuver out of the woods.
Riley finally shifted his attention from the newcomer to Juniper. “You four stay back here.”
She gripped her reins tighter to keep from reaching for his arm. “Do you think he’s dangerous?”
“Probably not.” Riley glanced toward Ol’ Henry and Dragoon, who’d already left the cluster of trees, riding toward the stranger. Then he looked back at her. “You’ll be safer here, and there’s no need to come out.”
He was probably right, and as he rode after the other two, she glanced at Rosie. Her sister’s expression held a bit of worry and that intense look that showed she was thinking through the possible dangers and how to cut them off before anyone could get hurt.
The men met the stranger on the slope, the newcomer positioned uphill. She couldn’t make out their words, but when Riley motioned to his bloody sleeve, the hunter’s eyes grew wide. He pulled off his hat and flopped it on the saddle as though shocked. It looked like he must be apologizing as he pressed a hand over his chest.
Just a hunting accident. No malicious intent.
The conversation continued, and Dragoon became the main speaker. He must be asking if the fellow had seen any sign of the horse thief they’d been following.
After a good deal more talk and hand gestures pointing a multitude of directions, the man flopped his hat back on his head and nudged his horse forward. Riley, Dragoon, and Ol’ Henry turned to ride back to the trees where she and her sisters hid.
Ol’ Henry’s face held its usual pleasant expression, but Riley’s mouth was pressed into a grim line. That could be from pain, though, now that the threat of danger had subsided.
Yet the dejected slope of Dragoon’s shoulders clearly showed that something the stranger said didn’t bode well for them.
She pushed her mare forward to ride out of the shelter of the trees, and her sisters followed behind. As soon as they reached the men, she studied Riley’s face. “What is it? What did he say?”
Dragoon released a snort, then lifted his own hat and wiped his brow with his sleeve before replacing the covering. It didn’t seem like he planned to answer, so she looked back to Riley.
“He’s a trapper who just came from the rendezvous andhe’s out hunting. He rode up the same trail we did and said he shot at a deer he saw. He’d come back to get it.” Riley grimaced. “I guess I was that deer.”
She looked back down at his sleeve, but the red circle didn’t look like it had widened any farther.Thank you, Lord. They still needed to clean and bandage it.
“What else did he say?” Nothing Riley had described so far should have affected Dragoon so.
Riley shook his head. “That’s mostly it. But if he came up the same trail we did and he has two horses, it seems like his tracks might be the ones we’ve been following.”
