Chapter Twenty-four
“GRAB HER!” HOSKINSshouted as he snagged one of the horses that hadn’t yet been tied to the others.
Clara didn’t wait. She ran for the door behind the horses she’d scared off, the rope dangling from her wrist. Just as she reached the door, a hand grabbed hold of her and pulled her through.
“Roman!” she gasped as he moved her behind him. He didn’t have a chance to speak a word, because just at that moment, Jones burst through the door.
Roman barreled into him, knocking the man to the ground and the guns from both their hands. Clara took a step backward as Roman landed a fist against Jones’s face. Hoskins would still be inside, trying to gather and calm the remaining loose horses, but it wouldn’t be long before he’d emerge in search of Jones—or see what was happening right outside the door.
Roman needed help—now.
She darted past the men as Roman shouted her name. She ignored him, racing into the stable. She glanced toward the stalls. Hoskins had hold of a stallion, who appeared none too happy to have a halter on after the other horses had gone running from the stable. He didn’t see her as she ran to the room with Mr. Wiley and Mr. Benton. She yanked on the doorknob, remembering almost immediately that it was locked.
The key. Where had Jones put the key? Clara leaned her head against the door, unable to remember.
“Mr. Wiley!” she said as loudly as she dared. “Is there another key?”
“Roman has the other,” came the reply.
Clara sagged against the door. She could hardly ask him to toss her a key right now. Unless she could help him subdue Jones. But how could she do that? It was too dark outside to see where their pistols had fallen. If there were a shovel or some other tool, perhaps she could strike him. She looked frantically about the stable.
Something metal glinted in the lamplight, beyond where Hoskins struggled with the horse. Clara blinked at it, hardly believing they were there. She’d been so preoccupied with freeing her wrist from the door earlier, she hadn’t even noticed them. Glancing at Hoskins, she flew across to the last stall in the row on the wall. She picked up Mr. Benton’s shotgun. She hadn’t the slightest idea how to use it, but Jones didn’t know that.
“Hey!” Hoskins shouted from a few yards away.
Clara jerked around, the shotgun heavy in her hands. Just as Hoskins started to take a step forward, the stallion reared up on its hind legs, knocking him to the ground.
Clara didn’t wait to see if he stirred. She made for the door, emerging into the night where she found the two men standing and Roman clutching the side of his face. She couldn’t see the state of them in the darkness, but Jones stumbled backward, unsteady. He righted himself and started toward Roman again.
“Stop right there!” Clara yelled. Her heart pounded in her ears as she raised the shotgun and aimed it at Jones.
It took him by surprise—and Roman too. Roman stared at her for a second, before taking advantage of Jones’s stunned state and slamming a fist into the man’s stomach.
Jones crumpled to the ground as Roman moved quickly and scooped up both his revolver and Jones’s. He held one aloft, pointed at Jones, who didn’t move.
“I didn’t know you could shoot,” he said, his breath coming fast, as he moved back to stand near Clara.
“I can’t,” she said, letting the shotgun drop. Now that Roman was safe from Jones, the thing felt as heavy as a horse in her hands.
Roman stared at her a moment, a grin slowly moving the corners of his lips upward before he grimaced in pain.
“Are you hurt?” Clara asked, straining to see the finer details of his face in the darkness.
“Nothing that won’t heal.”
“The other man is still inside. I don’t know if he’s conscious,” she said.
Roman’s eyes widened. “What did you do to him?”
“It wasn’t me. It was that stallion.”
“Granger’s? I knew I liked that beast.”
As if he’d heard himself mentioned, the stallion appeared in the doorway, seemingly calm now that he’d gotten Hoskins out of the way.
“Good boy,” Roman said, stroking the horse on the nose as he kept the pistol trained on Jones. He peered into the stable. “He’s still down.”
