Her gaze shifted toward the dark meadow.“And is this sort of thing common here?”
“More common than it ought to be.”
As Caleb turned toward the horses and the dead men lashed across the saddles, he heard Bear trot back toward them.
“And what’s your name, fellow?”Sheila asked softly, crouching slightly toward the dog.
“That good boy is Bear,” Caleb called over his shoulder.“Though usually he ain’t one to introduce himself too quick.”
Bear leaned against her skirts as though they were already acquainted.
Caleb frowned faintly at that.
Not many people earned the dog’s trust so quickly.
A few minutes later Caleb led the horses from the trees and found Miss Burnett standing quietly beside her mount while Bear rested against her leg.She turned toward him—and went pale the instant she saw what the horses carried.
“These men are dead?”she whispered.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You killed them?”
“I did.”
Her eyes widened as she stared at the bodies.
“You took their lives.”
The words weren’t accusing so much as stunned now.
“They came aiming to take mine first.”
She looked away briefly, clearly struggling with the sight before her.
“You couldn’t stop them without killing them?”
Caleb bit back his irritation.
Where she came from, maybe folks imagined gunfights happened slow enough for careful decisions and neat endings.Out here, hesitation got a man buried.
“When somebody starts firing at you in the dark,” he said evenly, “you don’t get much time for careful thinking.”
She swallowed hard and looked again toward the bodies.Caleb saw not judgment in her face, but shock.Fear.Sadness.
“This is how people live here?”she asked quietly.
“Sometimes,” Caleb answered.“Though most folks spend their lives hoping it won’t come to this.”
That seemed to settle over her differently.
Not approval.
But understanding.
“Take a step back, Miss Burnett,” Caleb said more gently.“I need to finish up here.”
As he led the horses forward, she moved aside quickly, though not before he noticed her hands trembling slightly in the moonlight.
