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It was only a quick stinging nick on my chin when the man’s grip on me released as Wilkens himself was tackled from the left.
Stumbling back from the shock, I shook my head clear, then watched as Bryant viciously wrestled with Wilkens, while gripping the man’s wrist holding the knife.
“Bryant, look out!” I screamed when the sheriff jumped to his feet, wielding the knife in the other hand.
Bryant jumped up and unsheathed his own Bowie, moving and crouching protectively in front of me.
“Walk away, Bryant. This is none of your business,” the sheriff said, huffing from the wrestling match.
“This lady is under my protection,” Bryant said, “so it most definitely is my business.”
“Your woman?”
“She is. Back off, if you know what’s good for you.” Wilkens looked to be considering his options, so Bryant added, “Don’t test me, man. You know it won’t end in your favor like last time.”
Tense seconds passed, the two men facing off. Neither one backed down. Neither one moved an inch. It was like watching two snarling panthers vying for domination with tails twitching in threat. I didn’t dare move a muscle that would ignite either one to attack first.
“Let’s just call this a draw and be done with it, yeah?” Bryant suggested.
Wilkens narrowed his eyes, then finally sheathed his knife. “Keep that witch out of my town, Bryant, or next time I won’t be so nice.”
The sheriff jutted his chin at the saloon girl. She sent me an apologetic look, then ran to him.
Wilkens shoved her hard towards the building, stalking after her. He gave one last daggered glare at us, spat on the dusty ground, then stalked inside the rear door. Bryant returned the visual threat with interest.
“Thanks. That was...”
Bryant pulled his glare from the saloon door and relaxed. “You all right then, Callista?”
“Fine,” I said as he frowned and touched the nick on my chin. “I’m fine really. Thanks again.”
“Hmm. I left you safely in Alice’s care not one hour ago. How is it that I can’t leave you alone for five minutes without trouble finding you?”
“It was two, actually, and you’re not the first person to accuse me of that,” I muttered, slapping the dust off my skirt.
“You made an enemy here today, I’m afraid.”
Not the first time for that, either.
“The man’s a snake and a bully who gets his jollies beating up those weaker than he is,” I grumbled, dabbing at the bleeding nick that was now coagulating.
“He is, that,” Bryant agreed, then arched his brow at me. “But a dangerous one. Did I not tell you to steer clear of the man while we’re here in town?”
“You did.”
“Next time heed my warning,” he said. “Please.”
“Sure, sure. And thanks for swooping in and saving me in the nick of time. Five seconds later and I would have been pushing daisies on Boot Hill.”
“Boot Hill?”
“A graveyard in Tombstone, Arizona. How did you know that I needed help anyhow? You swooped in out of thin air.”
He arched a brow at me. “Just be grateful that I did. We should go before he decides to return and there’s more trouble.”
Bryant pressed a hand to my shoulder to guide me back around the saloon towards the very public main street.
Call it my weird intuition, but I just then looked up to the second story window to see Sheriff Ray Wilken glaring down at me. He pointed his thumb and forefinger at me in a very visual threat. Or prediction.
