Susan Amarillas - Wyoming Renegade

“You’re welcome to the food and to whatever is in the wagon.” Eddie took a brazen step back, this time shoving Alex fully behind him as he did.

The man who was eating scraped the last of the food from the metal plate and tossed it down with a clink. He dragged his sleeve along his mouth, leaving more stains on the cloth.

“We were gonna do that anyway… boy.” He hefted his rifle in the curve of one arm. “Frank.” The man nearest the wheel straightened. “Take a look-see in the wagon, seein’ as how this young fella’s been so kind as to offer it.”

Frank followed orders and disappeared around the side of the wagon. Alex saw the wagon sway slightly as the man climbed inside.

“The woman, Fred?” Lyle asked eagerly, licking his lips as he did. “What about the woman? I mean, we ain’t been with no white women in a month o’ Sundays and I’m getting tired of them redskin bitches.”

Alex felt her skin crawl. She wanted to scream. She wanted this all to be some terrible nightmare.

“Hey,” a voice called from the back of the wagon. “Ain’t nothing in here but clothes and food and some kinda paints….”

Eddie took another step back, pulling Alex along with him. Firelight flashed on the barrel of gun being pointed in their direction. The hole in the barrel suddenly seemed enormous. “Don’t be leavin’ us, boy. Why, the party’s just about to get going.”

“Hot damn!” Alex’s attacker, the one called Lyle, surged to his feet and strode for her. “Me first.” He licked his lips and wiped them on his sleeve again. Alex clung to Eddie, her hand gripping his arm for support, for strength.

“No,” she barely whispered. Inside she was screaming, but outside she was paralyzed.

With clear intent, the man advanced on them. Eddie stepped between Alex and the man. The man hesitated for about two seconds. “Git outta my way, boy.” He took another step. “I’ll kill you where you stand.” He produced a gun from the waistband of his pants.

“Eddie, don’t,” Alex whispered.

“Yeah, Eddie,” the gun-wheeling man sneered. “Don’t.”

“Stay away from her,” Eddie pronounced, refusing to back down. He kept inching away, pulling Alex with him. “We told you to take whatever you wanted, just leave us alone.”

“Trouble is, boy,” the man near the fire said, “you have what we want.”

“Hey,” Frank called from the wagon again. “Found some money. Looks like…maybe…nearly a thousand.”

Both men halted, their attention drawn to their companion and his announcement.

Eddie kept moving back. In a low voice he whispered, “As soon as you’re in the shadows, run.” He kept inching while the men gathered around to count their loot. The shadows were close, a couple more yards. A few more steps and—

“Dammit, boy,” was the only thing Alex heard, then a shot.

Eddie yelled in pain. He fell to his knees, his eyes wide with disbelief. As though in slow motion, he lifted his hand away from his side. Blood, bright red, pooled in his palm and dripped between his fingers onto the ground.

“Eddie!” Her voice sliced through the night like a razor’s edge. “Eddie!”

Eddie didn’t answer, just looked at her, then his eyes fluttered closed and he fell the rest of the way to the ground.

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