No Other Will Do (Ladies of Harper's Station #1)(84)

Gold? That’s what this was all about? Money?

“Not that pansy son o’ mine.” Another kick. “And not a pair of two-bit cowboys trying to be knights in stinkin’ armor.” He reared back for another kick, but Emma stepped out from behind the tree and aimed her rifle straight at his chest.

“Back away from her,” she ground out in the meanest voice she could muster.

Malachi would have been proud. Her arms weren’t shaking. Her aim was true. And she had so much anger and indignation swimming through her veins, she thought she just might be able to pull the trigger without experiencing a single morsel of regret.

The stocky man stilled his swinging leg and cocked a glance toward Emma. His yellowed teeth winked at her as he grinned in a way that was the precise opposite of welcoming. “Well, looky here. One of the bloomer brigade followed you, Flora. Pretty sure she’s all on her lonesome, though.” He casually scanned the area. “Aren’t ya, honey?”

Emma gritted her teeth. She wanted to shout that she wasn’t this foul vermin’s honey, but something warned that getting riled would only give him reason to gloat. She’d not give him that satisfaction. She took a step forward, satisfaction zinging through her when one of his dust-laden eyebrows craned up in surprise.

“Flora needs medical attention. I’m taking her back to town with me.” Emma took another step, stopping a few feet from Flora’s fallen form, not wanting to get too close to the ham-fisted man standing over her.

Angus crossed his arms over his chest. “You ain’t takin’ her anywhere, sweet pea. That there’s my wife. My . . . property. To do with as I see fit.”

“She’s a human being. No man’s property.”

The fiend leered at Emma, interest lighting his eyes. “You got fire in you, don’t ya, sweeting?”

Emma choked down a growl. If that man threw one more of those disgusting endearments at her, she’d not be responsible for the reaction of her trigger finger.

“I like fire in a woman.” He licked his lips and Emma nearly gagged. “Flora used to have spunk like that, too. Till I beat it outta her. Wonder how long it would take your spark to fade?”

You’re never going to find out! Even as her mind screamed denials, her gaze remained cool, her aim steady.

“Flora,” she said in a gentle voice. “Can you stand?”

Clothing rustled, punctuated by a small groan. Emma prayed that meant Flora was finding the strength to rise. Emma couldn’t afford to take her eyes off the man in front of her to verify.

“Yer pretty, too,” the lecher continued, showing no regard whatsoever for the wife lying broken and bleeding on the ground in front of him. “Dark hair. Shiny eyes. Uppity attitude. Hmm . . .” He grew thoughtful. His head leaned back and his gaze narrowed as he surveyed her more closely. “Stubborn. Controlling. Wanting to call the shots.” His face cleared, and an awful smile parted his beard. “You’re the banker lady that runs the town, ain’t ya? I think you and me need to get better acquainted.”

He lunged.

Emma pulled the trigger. The rifle kicked back into her shoulder, throwing off her balance.

He roared, aimed a quick glance at his left arm, where a red stain was blooming over the edge of his sleeve, but he never stopped coming. “You shot me!”

Emma stumbled backward, fumbling with the repeater’s lever, desperate to get another cartridge in the chamber. Then her heel caught on a tree root. She threw out an arm to grab the tree, leaving the rifle unprotected. With one swing of his arm, Angus knocked the weapon from her hand.

Emma yelped. She turned to flee, but Angus was too fast. He grabbed her around the waist and hauled her up against his side. She pounded her fists against his arm, fighting to pry herself free, but his grip was as unyielding as iron.

“Let me go!” She kicked and squirmed, fighting desperately for her freedom. He laughed at her puny efforts.

Then she recalled his injury. Throwing her weight sideways, she flung her right arm across her body and slammed a fist into his bloodied left shoulder. A grunt of pain cut off his laughter. But he didn’t drop her as she’d hoped. Instead his right arm tightened about her waist and his left rose in retaliation.

His fist slammed into the side of her head. Her body fell limp as her brain struggled to keep its faltering grasp on consciousness. Pain throbbed inside her skull. Her vision blurred. She heard a woman’s cry of outrage, but she couldn’t seem to get her head to turn to see what was going on.

“Stop, Angus!” Flora cried, a little more strength to her voice. “You hurt her, and Shaw will kill you.”

“Shaw don’t scare me. He can’t even find me. Ha!” Angus shifted his hold on Emma, spinning her around to face him.

The sudden movement shot a host of tiny needles through her head. She moaned and squeezed her eyes closed. Then, just as the edges of pain started to dull, he tossed her up over his shoulder, belly down, head and arms thumping against his back as he clasped her legs. Her breath left her in a whoosh. Her head felt like it was splitting in two. Digging deep into her reserves, she found the strength to reach up and press the heels of her hands against her pounding temples. The motion lessened. The pain lessened. She pushed harder, trying to somehow contain the ache so she could think.

Angus stepped around his wife, who had managed to partially sit up, propping herself up with one arm. As he moved past, Emma raised up just enough to see Flora. The woman’s face was battered and bloody, her body curled in on itself to protect her abused middle. Suddenly the pain in Emma’s head didn’t seem nearly as significant. Not when one of her ladies had endured so much worse.