The slender figure in trousers who slipped through the gate wasnotLorelei.
It took Tanner’s mind a moment to interpret what his eyes saw. A man scanned the interior of the fort walls, then his gaze locked on Curly. A determined expression settled as he crept toward the calf.
Tanner spun back to the interior of the trade room, lunging the two steps to the counter where he kept his rifle and shot bag. He would only have one chance to surprise the thief, but he needed a weapon.
When he whirled back to sprint toward the courtyard, a squeal from behind nearly made him pause. He’d forgotten about the Native woman.
He couldn’t worry about her now, though. He had to protect Curly.
twenty-one
As Tanner charged out the rear door, he tugged the bag’s strap over his head and raised the rifle to firing position. The stranger had already wrapped his arms around the calf and was turning him toward the open gate.
“Get your hands off him!”
The man jerked his head up at Tanner’s shout. He didn’t stop, though, just shoved the buffalo harder.
Tanner sprinted toward the gate to cut him off. He could put a well-placed bullet in the thief, but he’d much rather stop him without bloodshed.
When he’d almost reached the gate and had a clean shot at the intruder, he halted and sighted down the rifle barrel. “Let the calf go. He’s not worth your life.”
The fellow finally looked up, and though his collar concealed the lower half of his face, something about his eyes struck a familiar chord in Tanner’s chest. But it wasn’t until the man flicked a glance toward the open door to the trade room that awareness sluiced through him.
The guns.
This was one of the lackeys who’d been with that Purcey fellow who tried to steal the rifles the other night.
Tanner tensed to sprint back to the trade room, but he couldn’t let the man abscond with Curly. What a time for White Horse to be gone.
He had no choice. He’d have to waylay this man, then get back to the trade room and see if he was too late to protect the rifles and ammunition.
He adjusted his aim down to the man’s lower leg, the fleshy part at the back of the calf where he wasn’t likely to hit bone. At this range, the bullet would go all the way through and bring enough pain the fellow shouldn’t be able to hobble out with Curly.
Just as he squeezed the trigger, a woman’s scream radiated through the air. Tanner flinched. The man holding Curly cried out, then dropped to his knees and clutched his leg. The buffalo bawled and stumbled away from the thief.
Tanner didn’t have time to stay and inspect the fellow’s injuries, but it looked like his bullet had done what it needed to, even with the distraction.
As he spun toward the trade room, he reached into his shot bag and grabbed a bullet and premeasured wad of powder. All those years of practice served him well now, even more than when he’d been part of the Day Police. He reloaded the gun as he ran and positioned the set trigger as he reached the trade room.
Even with the rear and front doors open, it took a precious moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. No movement stirred, but a glance at his bedding in the corner showed someone had jerked a fur out of the stack. Looking for the rifles he’d pretended to keep there, no doubt.
The rest of the room showed some of the supplies had been ransacked, with blankets and shirts spread across the floor. He moved to the trade counter and reached to where he kept the rifles.
His hand touched only the empty wood shelf.
A knot clenched in his gut and forced out a word he hadn’t used in years. He’d brought in extra rifles this morning, more than usual since there had been a deluge of customers yesterday and he was manning the place himself.
He sprinted toward the front door.
That Native woman. Had she been part of the ruse? A distraction to alert Purcey as soon as Tanner was out of the space? She might have been the female he’d seen when the group rode away that night they tried to steal the weapons. Maybe married to Purcey.
When Tanner reached the doorway, two men were frantically loading their stolen goods on pack animals. Purcey was tying a crate of rifles on a mule, and Quigley was strapping a barrel of gunpowder on his horse. The woman had already mounted her bay and looked panicked as she saw Tanner aiming his rifle at them.
Her flurry of speech made Purcey turn to look, and Tanner caught the man’s gaze down the length of his gun barrel.
Tanner kept his voice hard and even. “Set those rifles and ammunition on the ground, or this bullet finds its home in your heart.”
Hesitation flashed across Purcey’s eyes. Surely he wouldn’t be foolish enough to reach for a weapon.
