“Take a minute to reload the blunderbuss and show him the basics. Emphasize safety,” Eli said, giving Wil a penetrating gaze he hoped got the point across. “I’ll supervise. He won’t touch it except in dire necessity.”
They made quick work of lifting Reilly into the carriage as gently as they could. They retied the wounded bandit so he could lie on his back, retrieved Susan’s laudanum, and gave him some before laying him next to Reilly, grateful when he lost consciousness.
Eli dosed the dying man with the rest, stared down at the mess his shot had made of the man’s stomach, and grimaced.
Goodfellow put a hand on his shoulder. “Is this the first time you’ve killed a man, Benson?” the corporal asked.
Eli nodded. He’d had no choice and wouldn’t second-guess himself, but the horror of it would haunt him.
“It needed doing,” Goodfellow said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Think on the things you protected.”
When Fanny slid up next to Eli and put an arm around his waist, he turned her away from the sight of the brigand’s wounds and pulled her into an embrace. Eli soaked in the comfort she offered, thanking God she had not been injured.
Fanny went up on her toes and kissed the side of his chin. “We best get Reilly to a doctor,” she said, her voice thick and wet.
He kissed her fiercely then, pouring all the wanting, all the passion, all his need for comfort into that kiss. When he raised his head, still holding her, Goodfellow studiously saw to the tack on his horse, but Wil stared openmouthed.
Eli almost asked Fanny to trade places with Wil, needing her by his side, but she’d be safer inside the carriage. One thing he knew for certain. Once they got to the inn, he wouldn’t let her out of his sight.
