Sam's Creed. Sarah McCarty

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “There is nothing to talk about.”

      “Fine, then I’ll just lay it out for you. It’s been a bitch of a day. I’m hungry, tired and been stuck on the wrong end of that woman’s tongue for the last four hours.” From the alley came the faint echo of a gasp. He smiled. He thought that would get her going.

      “If the woman is such trouble, my friends and I would be happy to take her off your hands.”

      He just bet they would. Leather creaked as he shifted his weight in the saddle. “And who would you be?”

      “Juan Zapatos.”

      “Well, Juan, I only mentioned that because pretty much all I want is a couple shots of whiskey and a soft bed.”

      The man near the walkway moved. Sam met his gaze and gave a small shake of his head. He settled back.

      “There’s no reason you can’t have what you want,” Juan said.

      “As long as I give you what you want?”

      Juan nodded. “Sí.”

      “That’s not going to happen.”

      “The woman is Tejala’s.”

      “Then Tejala is going to be disappointed.”

      “I don’t think so.”

      “What’s mine stays mine.” He nodded toward the alley where Bella hid. “And the woman’s mine.”

      Another gasp.

      “And who are you to think you can take what is Tejala’s?”

      Centering the revolver on Juan, Sam answered. “Sam MacGregor. Texas Ranger.”

      There was a murmur from the man near the walk. A whisper of unease spread through the group. A little of the starch left Juan’s stance. But not all of it. After all, Sam’s reputation notwithstanding, they had him six to one.

      Juan spat. “Your badge means nothing here.”

      Sam shrugged. “A badge means nothing anywhere. It’s the man behind the badge you’ve got to be afraid of.” He smiled. “And quite frankly, y’all are wearing on my last nerve. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to get this over with.”

      “And what is ‘this’?”

      “This is me either peaceably passing through or plugging a hole in some of you.” He turned the revolver on the bandit closest to the alley. The shotgun he lined up with Juan’s midsection. He didn’t need accuracy with a shotgun. “Which way I go is entirely up to you.”

      Metal slid across leather in an audible hiss as Juan’s men drew their guns. Behind him, the unexpected scuff of a boot on sand. Sam dove to the ground, turning and pulling the trigger as he fell, swearing as he saw his target jerking the gun to the left just in time. The bullet whizzed past Isabella’s head. She screamed and crouched down, covering her head with her arms.

      “Son of a bitch!” She must have circled around the building.

      He rolled under the horses’ hooves toward the center of the street, taking the line of fire away from her. At least he knew why Kell hadn’t given a warning.

      “Get your ass back in the alley,” he hollered. “Kell, guard.”

      He hoped the dog knew to guard.

      Bullets hit the ground around Sam in rapid succession. Kell hesitated.

      “I will help,” Isabella yelled. Sam didn’t know how much help she expected to be with her hands over her face.

      He scanned the street, noting positions. “You can help by getting your butt to safety.” He glanced at the bristling dog. “And take Kell with you.”

      Juan laughed from behind a post. “You cannot even get your woman to obey, and you expect us to fear you?”

      “Nah, I just expect you to die.”

      Rolling to his back, dropping the shotgun beside him, he palmed the hammer on his Colt, unleashing a spray of bullets. Three bandits dropped, two didn’t. Shit.

      Return fire was immediate. He didn’t have any cover. A bullet struck him in the thigh with a hard punch and a sickening splat. Isabella screamed. He only had a few seconds to act before the pain came calling. Jumping to his feet, Sam ran for Bella, catching her around the waist as he got even, half carrying, half throwing her into the alley. Kell was right behind. Bullets peppered the building in the spot they’d been a split second before. He pressed his back against the wall. Splinters of wood flew, stinging his cheek as he shoved Isabella to the ground.

      “When I say to stay put,” Sam growled. “Stay put.”

      Pointing the shotgun around the corner, he fired blindly, relying on the scatter to do damage. A highpitched yell told him he had hit something. The swearing afterward meant probably not fatally.

      “Son of a bitch.”

      There was a tug at his belt. He turned, another curse on his lips. He did not need an hysterical woman on his hands. Isabella grabbed his hand and slapped something into his palm. His fingers closed around familiar shapes. Bullets. He met her gaze. There was steel beneath that softness.

      “Thanks.”

      Bullets whined past the alley opening. He cocked the other barrel of the shotgun, waiting for a pause before pointing the barrel around the corner again and pulling the trigger. As soon as it discharged, he tossed it to Isabella along with the pouch of ammunition.

      “Do you know how to load that?” he gritted out.

      She didn’t waste time on words, just set to work with an efficiency that answered his questions. He shoved bullets into the chambers of his revolvers, keeping an eye on the movement beyond the alley as best he could. “It’s going to get messy here in a minute.”

      Her glance fell to the blood on his thigh.

      “It already is.”

      He was bleeding like a stuck pig. Yanking his bandanna from around his neck, he held it out. “Do me a favor and tie that off.”

      She did. He bared his teeth against the pain. “Thanks.”

      She yanked the knot tight before handing him back the shotgun. “Do not miss.”

      She was a bossy little thing. “I’ll do my best.”

      “It would be best if you succeeded.”

      Very bossy.

      Things were too quiet out there. Sam inched along the wall, being careful his gun belt didn’t scrape. A rhythmic jingle of spurs approached. He shook his head at the foolhardiness of trying to sneak while wearing spurs. He leaned back and waited. The thin barrel of a rifle extended past the corner. Sam didn’t move, holding his palm out flat behind him to warn Isabella not to make a СКАЧАТЬ