She heard the crash of Cultus’s revolver. He was on his knees beside her, the smoking gun in his hand, his lips a trifle white.
“I had to do it,” he said tensely. “Her leg was busted.”
“Glory?” whispered Jane.
“Yeah. They got my horse cold. Don’t move. That last shot came from the east. We’re under cover now, but there’s two men, at least, and they’ve got us trapped.”
Another bullet smashed through the mesquite, showering them with splinters of wood and leaves. Cultus shook his head dubiously.
“That’s too close. I’m a fool not to have packed a rifle. Might have known it was a trap.”
“Who is it?” asked Jane nervously.
“I dunno. Golly, I don’t see why you didn’t stay home. Wasn’t any use of you gettin’ hurt.”
“But I had to come, don’t you see. If Blaze was here⸺”
“You wanted to warn him of the sheriff?”