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Grant had ducked to the floor, and now his head came up. “You know, I never liked that nickname worth a damn,” he drawled, then swung his rifle up. It was an automatic, and he fired it in the three-shot bursts of a well-trained soldier, making good use of his firepower without wasting his ammunition. Pistol shots came from both the bedroom and Rachel’s office; then all hell broke loose again. They were tearing the house up, and cold fear filled him, because Rachel was caught in this barrage.
“Rachel!” he yelled. “Are you all right?”
“I’m okay,” she answered, and her calm voice made
him ache.
“Jane!” Grant yelled. No answer. “Jane,” he yelled again, his face gray as he started for the bedroom.
“I’m busy!”
Grant looked as if he might explode, and despite everything Kell found himself grinning. Better Grant than him. Still, Jane’s life was in jeopardy, too, and the thought of anything happening to her was almost as hard to bear as the thought of anyone hurting Rachel.
There was another lull, and Grant pulled out his empty clip and slapped another one into place.
“Sabin, my patience is at an end,” Dubois called, and Kell grimaced. Damn, it hadn’t been Dubois he’d hit.
“You haven’t made the right offer yet,” he yelled in return. Anything to buy time.
Jane crawled out of the bedroom, her hair all mussed and her eyes big. “I think the cavalry is coming,” she said.
The two men ignored her, but Rachel scrambled to her side. “What?” she asked.
“Men on horseback,” Jane said, waving her hand toward the bedroom. “I saw them, coming from that way.”
Rachel felt like crying or laughing, but she couldn’t make up her mind which. “It’s Rafferty,” she said, and now she had their attention. “My neighbor. He must have heard the shots.”
Grant crouched low and ran through the kitchen to the back, where he could see. “How many?” Kell asked.
“Twenty or so,” Grant said. “Damn, they’re riding right into automatic f
ire. Start shooting and draw Dubois’s fire!”
They did. Rachel crept up to a window, held the heavy pistol out it and fired until it was empty, then reloaded with shaking hands before emptying it again. Kell was making judicious use of the .22, and Jane was revealing remarkable skill herself. Had they given Rafferty enough time to get behind Dubois and his men? If they kept shooting, they might hit their rescuers.
“Hold it,” Kell ordered. They lay flat on the floor with their heads covered while the walls were shredded by bullets. The light fixture crashed to the floor, sending glass flying. Grant cursed, and they looked over to see blood streaming down his face from a cut on his cheek. Jane gave a thin, high cry and made a move toward him, despite the continuing gunfire; Kell grabbed her and wrestled her to the floor.
“I’m all right,” Grant yelled. “It’s just a little cut.”
“Stay close to the floor,” Kell told Jane, then let her go, knowing that she’d fight him like a wildcat if he tried to keep her from Grant.
Then, suddenly, it was quiet except for a few scattered shots, and they were abruptly halted, too. Rachel lay on the floor, hardly daring to breathe, the acrid smell of burned gunpowder filling her nostrils and even her mouth. Kell put his hand on her arm, his black eyes drifting over her pale features as if he would burn her into his memory.
“Hey!” a deep voice roared. “Rachel, are you in there?”
Her lips trembled, and tears suddenly blurred her eyes. “It’s Rafferty,” she whispered, then lifted her head to call, “John! Is it all right?”
“Depends,” the answer came. “These bastards here don’t think it’s all right.”
Kell slowly climbed to his feet and pulled Rachel to hers. “He sounds like my kind of man.”
Rachel felt like the survivor of a shipwreck as she walked out on the porch with Kell supporting her. Grant and Jane followed, with Jane dabbing at the cut on Grant’s cheek, crying a little as she fussed at him. Without the arm around her waist, Rachel was sure she wouldn’t have been able to stand.
She gave a ghostly cry when she saw three of the geese lying in the yard, blood on the white of their feathers, but there was no way she could make a sound when she saw Joe lying on his side at the edge of the porch. Kell turned her into his arms, pressing her face into his shoulder.
Big John Rafferty, armed with a hunting rifle and surrounded by his men, who were likewise armed, herded about fifteen men before him. Rafferty’s eyes were fierce and narrow under his dark brows as he prodded a slim, gray-haired man before him. “We heard the shooting and came to see what was going on,” John drawled. “I don’t like riffraff shooting at my neighbor.”
Charles Dubois was white with rage, his eyes fastened on Sabin. Beside him was Noelle, her beautiful eyes full of boredom.
