she bent and slid the pistol across the room toward the winking cowboy’s feet.
“Drop now!” Bass shouted at the women, diving as the gun slid. Momentum carried his body straight into the leader, sending him and several cowhands falling like unstrung fence posts. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Petula collapse, either in reaction to his shouted order or in a dead faint. He made the mistake of turning slightly enough to check and see if the widow and the little girl had done the same. Both still stood.
Only one way to protect them now. His fists connected with flesh, echoing loud punches over the room.
Lord, let me prove myself more than the coward people think of me. Help me save my sister...
And give me time to set things right with the widow and her child.
Someone got off a shot. Another.
Instinctively, Daisy turned, threw her body over Ollie’s and rolled, pinning her daughter beneath her. A shotgun blast layered the air with the acrid smell of gun smoke, splattering a hole in the wall and raining slivers of wood everywhere.
Sam! Daisy remembered the shotgun behind the counter. He must have fired a round. She dared to look, but someone returned fire. The banker fell backward out of sight. Daisy screamed as her eyes slammed shut, praying he was still alive.
“Trouble at the bank!” yelled a voice outside, though it moved away from them instead of toward. “Somebody get the sheriff.”
The sound of flesh punching flesh, grunts and bodies scuffling continued as Petula’s brother tried to subdue the robbers with only his fists. Daisy prayed fast and hard for the brave stranger, asking God to protect the man who defended them.
“Get out of here now,” Winker ordered, his voice full of pain amid the bone-crunching blows. “Grab the money and ride!”
Another shot fired. The punches stopped. Daisy’s eyes flashed open, fearful of the fistfighter’s fate. A need to remember him, his face, his eyes, the trust she’d questioned earlier seemed important now to bring into focus. She willed him not to die though his slumped-over figure did not move.
A frantic scraping of boots and spurs sounded the retreat amid another hail of bullets. Daisy braced herself for the impact of hot lead, her hands frantically trying to protect Olivia from being hit. Help me, Lord. Keep her safe. Her prayer kept pace with her pulse. Don’t let me lose her, too.
Another volley of traded shots shattered glass from the door and windows, then a thunderous pounding of hooves eased into a silence so quick Daisy could hear her heart beating as if it was lodged in her ears. Her blood raced like the Guadalupe River at flood tide, her tongue drying as if it was a slab of jerky, leaving her unable to speak.
Daisy waited for someone to enter the bank. Anyone to assure her the shooting was over, the robbers away and the townsmen who had shot back still outside and alive. She needed to check on Sam and the two strangers, but she was afraid to move away from Ollie yet.
No one entered.
“Is everyone all right?” she asked, finding nerve enough to speak and needing to hear each voice in return.
“They shot him. They shot my brother,” screamed Petula. She crawled over to him as his frock coat darkened with the spread of blood.
“Don’t cry, Pet,” their rescuer whispered, motioning his sister to stay away. “Don’t come closer. I’ll be all right.” He crumpled and passed out.
“Get some h-help, Daisy,” Sam pleaded from behind the counter.
“I’m so relieved.” Daisy released a long breath of air, realizing both men still lived. “I thought you might have been... Just hang on, Sam. I’ll get Doc.”
“He’s in town. Maybe at his office or M-Meg’s.” Sam paused and took a few breaths. “Sounds like her brother needs help quicker than I do. See if anyone else is hurt.” Pain filled his voice despite his words. “I...I can hold on.”
“You sure?” She wanted to check and see for herself.
“Do what you’ve got to do, Daisy. Quick.”
“Yeah, let me up, Mama. I can’t breathe.”
Daisy stood and helped her daughter stand. She examined Ollie for any sign of injury and found only minor scrapes from flying glass and splinters caused by the shotgun blast. Filled with relief, she lifted Ollie and hugged her so tightly the child complained again.
“That’s enough, Mama. You keep squeezin’ me and I’m gonna be a goner for sure.”
“It’s never enough, honey. Never.” Daisy pulled back and studied the tiny face one more time. She had to keep Ollie safe. This time. Every time. “You sure you’re not hurt anywhere?”
She frowned. “Just where you hugged me.”
Daisy set her down and stared squarely into eyes that mirrored her own. “Then do you think you can go find Doc for us? That way I can stay here and help do what I can until he gets here.”
“My brother,” Petula stressed, kneeling beside him to rest his head in her lap. At the sight of his wound, her words became shrill. “Hurry, he’s all I have.” She brushed her hand across his brow and glanced up at Daisy, her eyes glazed with worry. “Make him stop bleeding.”
“We’ll get help,” Daisy assured her then hesitated. Memories of the outraged citizens who told her about the hostage-taking rushed in to caution her. Someone outside might think she or Ollie had started the shooting. What if they decided to shoot first and then ask questions? She couldn’t take that chance. “Stay here, Ollie. Let me make sure it’s safe for you to go.”
Daisy exited the bank and froze, waiting, looking. She had lost her husband to violence as he bled out on some needless battlefield where the opposing forces didn’t know a cease-fire had been called and the war ended. Tears she hadn’t shed when he died suddenly blurred the images before her now.
She hadn’t been there and couldn’t have helped Knox, but their longtime friendship and practical marriage demanded that she love Ollie enough for the both of them and keep her safe always.
That single clear thought stemmed the flow of Daisy’s tears and shook her out of her frozen panic.
A crowd began to run this way and that, shouting words so fast that Daisy couldn’t determine who said what. Someone lay in the street wounded. Another man slumped over a water trough near the livery.
The blacksmith, a bald giant of a man who often fished with Olivia, reached Daisy first.
“Oh, Bear, I’m so glad it’s you.” Relief rushed through her. “We need help. There’s been a robbery. People are hurt.” She brushed the tears from her face, her voice breaking as she added, “O-Ollie’s inside.”
Bear bolted past Daisy only to come to an abrupt halt when a tiny voice said, “No, I ain’t, Mama.”
Daisy swung around to find
