“Where did that come from?”
“Who’s there?”
Neither of the voices belonged to Mitchell. Lara sucked in a breath and peered around the bluff again. All three men were on their feet, each one armed with a revolver and searching for who had shot at them.
She said a quick prayer of thanks that Mitchell appeared to be unhurt, and then aimed the pistol again.
One more shot. That was all she needed. Even if she missed, Mitchell would figure out she wasn’t shooting at him. And it would distract the other two men long enough for him to act.
She drew in a breath and then let it out, just as Papa had taught her all those years ago. She hadn’t ever been one much for hunting, but thankfully she hadn’t completely forgotten how to shoot.
Letting her finger squeeze the trigger, another bullet erupted from the pistol. She drew back immediately to keep from being seen as a yelp sounded from the direction where she’d aimed.
If they didn’t know where she was yet, they’d figure it out quickly.
She looked again, around the edge of the rock to see who she’d hit—and then she smiled with satisfaction. The blond giant of a man—the one who had grabbed her at the ranch—was on the ground and gripping his leg.
Clarkson held his pistol aloft, searching along the edge of the bluff. And behind him . . .
Mitchell raised his own gun, aiming it at Clarkson. “Turn around, Clarkson!”
The other man whipped around. “Are you mad? There’s someone behind that bluff shooting at us.”
“Doesn’t seem they’re shooting at me,” Mitchell replied. “Throw down your weapon.”
“Not a chance.” Clarkson looked behind him, toward where Lara hid behind the bluff.
“I’m warning you,” Mitchell said. “I don’t want to shoot you, not after I kept you alive. But I will if I have to.”
“You mean after you threw me over to the law to save your own neck?”
“I saved you from the noose. You’re too angry to see past your own nose, but me telling them exactly what happened bought you your life.”
Clarkson laughed, the noise ricocheting off the bluff. “You’re afraid. That’s all you’ve ever been. Afraid.”
“Put down the gun,” Mitchell repeated.
“I don’t—” The sound of another bullet cut off Clarkson’s response.
Lara jumped, a shriek escaping her lips despite her best efforts to keep it in. Clarkson flew around, searching for the sound she’d made, but it wasn’t him who drew her attention.
It was Mitchell, who clutched his arm, his pistol on the ground. A wisp of smoke curled from the blond man’s gun. They’d forgotten about him.
And now he’d shot and disarmed Mitchell.
Lara dug her fingers into the soft stone of the bluff as Clarkson took a step toward where she hid. Her other hand clung to the revolver.
“Watch him,” Clarkson threw back at the other man, who, despite his injury, held his gun on Mitchell. “I’m going to suss out whoever’s behind that bluff.” He raised his gun. “Come on out!”
Lara held her breath and didn’t move an inch. She could just barely see him as she peered around the edge of the stone.
“Sounded like a woman,” the blond man said.
“You send your lady after us, King?” Clarkson said with a dead-sounding laugh. “I got a good look at her in town. All that red hair. Didn’t look like she could harm an ant.”
“She shot Bryce, didn’t she?” Mitchell said, pain lacing his voice. Lara could just make out a tinge of red soaking through his shirt.
“Lucky shot,” Clarkson replied. “Come on out, girlie,” he shouted toward her as he gripped his pistol with both hands. “Give up now and I might let your man die quickly.” He chuckled at that as Lara shuddered.
