by Bobbi Smith
Frustration filled the driver, but he knew there was nothing he could do.
Duke started to kiss Reina again, and Vic gave an excited hoot in anticipation of having his own turn at the young woman. It was then that something unexpected happened. A shot rang out of nowhere, and Vic's hollers of excitement turned to screams of agony as a deep, burning pain seared through his chest. He stood motionlessly for an instant, then his gun and the saddlebags dropped from his suddenly numb hands. Vic pitched face forward into the dirt, dead.
"What the hell...?" Duke kept his hold on Reina as he spun around to see his friend drop to the ground, a bullet hole in his back. "Vic!" he bellowed in disbelief.
Suddenly more bullets were blazing around him. In a panic of self-survival, Duke shoved Reina to the ground and dove for cover himself behind some rocks. He caught sight of his assailant on a ridge overlooking the trail, and, drawing his gun, he began to shoot back at the intruder.
Reina was stunned by the sudden turn of events, and she lay on the ground, shaken. Ruth and Melissa ran to hide behind some nearby boulders as Fred jumped down from his perch to hide behind the stagecoach.
"Sister, you've got to take cover!" Fred shouted to her over the din of the gunshots. He wished that he had a gun to help out, but unarmed as he was, there was nothing more he could do.
His warning shook Reina from her dazed state of mind, and she quickly scrambled to safety with Ruth and Melissa behind the rocks half-way between the stage and the place where Duke had hidden. Fighting for breath, she stayed down low.
"Are you all right?" Ruth asked worriedly.
"I think so," she gasped.
"Who's up there?"
"I don't know," Reina responded breathlessly, "but whoever it is, he must be a godsend!"
The gunfire had stopped as Clay had raced across the countryside, and he hadn't even been sure he was heading in the right direction until he'd crested the ridge. He'd reined in abruptly at the sight of the robbery being acted out on the road below. Clay hadn't been able to tell if Reina Alvarez was among the passengers, but that hadn't mattered, for the shocking sight of the villain assaulting the helpless nun had enraged him. Filled with righteous fury, he'd swung down off his horse's back and taken his rifle from its case.
Clay had sought his most advantageous position behind one of the big boulders. The passengers had been clustered so close together that he was fearful of hitting one of them, so he took extra care to make certain his aim was true as he'd squeezed off his shot. Clay had watched in satisfaction as the outlaw who'd been standing slightly away from the others was felled by his marksmanship. When the other bandit quickly released the nun and made for cover, Clay kept up a barrage of bullets to give the women and the driver time to seek refuge. When he was certain they were momentarily safe from the outlaw, Clay dropped down behind the rock to reload. That done, he shifted his position to get a better view of the scene below.
More frightened than she'd ever been in her life, Reina's hands were shaking as she pulled Poke's gun from her pocket.
"Poke's gun. ..I'd forgotten!" Ruth's terrified gaze met Reina's. "Do you know how to use it?"
"My father taught me when I was young," she answered.
"Have you ever shot anyone before?" Melissa asked, her eyes wide with a mixture of respect and horror at the thought.
"Well, no..." Reina hesitated, knowing there was a big difference between shooting at a target and shooting down a man. She wondered if she could really do it. "But I have no intention of letting that man anywhere near us again."
"You're right," Ruth agreed, fearing for their very lives.
Reina peeked over the top of the rocks, hoping to get a clear shot at Duke. The outlaw had chosen his hiding place well, though, and she found it was impossible to even come close. Knowing she had only a few bullets left, Reina dropped back down beside Ruth and Melissa.
"No chance?"
Reina shook her head. "He's too well hidden. Maybe if he moves, I can, but right now, there's no way."
Clutching Poke's gun tightly in both hands, she leaned back against the sharp edges of the rocks and waited. She thought of the old cowboy then and of his advice that it wouldn't be a sin to defend herself, and she smiled slightly. He had been wounded defending them of his own free will. No one had hired him to do the job. No one had commanded that he risk his life for them, and yet he had. Then, despite his own severe injury, his thoughts had still been about their safety. He was truly a gentle, generous man, and she hoped, if they managed to get out of this, that he would be all right.
The protection Duke had sought behind the rocks was so good that Clay couldn't get a direct shot at him. Clay knew he had little hope of flushing the bandit out from his current position, so he decided to move to a better vantage point. To cover himself, he fired a salvo in the desperado's general direction as he made a run for a small grove of trees about thirty feet away across a small clearing.
When it came to saving his own hide, Duke could be a very patient, very vigilant man. He wasn't concerned in the least about the women or the driver for to his way of thinking they were unarmed. Instead, he was watching and waiting for the intruder to make a mistake. Whenever he did, Duke was going to be ready.
The extended silence troubled Reina, and once more, she tried to see what was going on. In the distance, she caught sight of their unknown protector trying to make a run across a small open area on the ridge, and she cried out in horror as gunfire erupted from where Duke was hiding. To her terror, the man was struck by one of the outlaw's shots and fell. Reina couldn't tell if he was still alive or not, and her grip tightened on Poke's gun-their last line of defense against the bloodthirsty Duke.
"What happened?" Ruth asked.
"Duke shot him." Reina admitted as she sat back down beside her.
"No!"
The two women exchanged knowing looks, and Reina felt ice encase her very soul. It would all be up to her now...
"Well, it looks like things have worked out jes' fine, don't they?" Duke called out confidently. He believed they were all unarmed, and he was sure the intruder was dead. Duke was a little troubled by the fact that his friend, Vic, had been killed, but the prospect of keeping all that gold for himself eased whatever grief he was feeling.
Duke was gloating over his triumph as he stood up, but he knew he had to change his plans a bit since he was now working alone. He figured he'd still take the nun with him, but first he'd have to tie up the others, release the horses from the coach and get the loot. Then, when he was sure he'd be making a clean getaway, he would get the hell out of there.
At his taunting words, Reina grew even more frightened. She knew her own shooting ability was their only hope, but serious doubts ran through her mind. Could she do it? Could she really shoot a man, even if it was in selfdefense?
"C'mon, ladies, I know where you're hidin'," Duke chided Reina and Ruth a little angrily. "Get out here where I can see you. You, too, driver! Step out from behind the stage so I know just where you are!" When none of them responded immediately, he became incensed. "I said get the hell out here! Now!"
"Damn!" Clay swore softly through gritted teeth as he clutched his upper arm. Sweat beaded his brow, and he closed his eyes for a moment as he fought for control over the pain.
Clay had somehow managed to keep a tight grip on his gun, and he was glad for at least that much. Despite the agony that throbbed through him, he knew the wound wasn't life-threatening. Even so, it was bleeding heavily and that in itself was a danger. Grabbing his bandana from his back pocket with his good hand, he tied it tightly around the wound to help stop the blood flow. There was no telling what the outlaw might do next, and he had to be ready.
Clay had stayed down since being shot, but the sound of Duke calling out to the women jarred him to action. He put his own pain from him and levered himself up on his good arm. Fighting for control, Clay brought his gun to bear. He would have a good shot at him as soon as he took a step clear of his
hiding place. Clay only prayed that he would be accurate enough to take advantage of it.
"C'mon!" Duke snarled viciously again, waiting for Reina and the others to show themselves. He was almost ready to drag the women out, but he didn't trust the driver with the rifle and Vic's gun lying there so close by the stagecoach.
Reina could tell by the outlaw's tone of voice that the time had come. She could delay no longer. She had to make her move, and she had to do it now.
"All right..." she called out, standing up slowly and keeping the gun hidden in the fold of her skirts. A hurried glance around told Reina that she still didn't have a decent shot at Duke and that worried her. She knew she could hit a target, but she didn't trust her marksmanship enough to try to hit the bandit where he was standing. She had to draw him out into the open.
Reina walked slowly away from the protection of her hiding place, and relief flooded through her when Duke did the same. As he stepped clear of the rocky barrier that had protected him, Reina knew she had to act. Desperate to catch the overconfident desperado offguard, she moved quickly, raising the gun and firing without hesitation. To her heart-stopping horror, the shot went wide, missing Duke completely. He stood, unscathed, staring at her in shocked rage.
"What the hell?" Duke roared at the discovery that the nun was armed with a gun and more than willing to use it. "You got a gun?"
"Sister!" Ruth and Fred cried out, miserable in their frustration at being unable to help her. They felt sure that the end was near for all of them now.
Reina saw the cold-blooded, murderous glint appear in Duke's eyes as he glared at her, and when he raised his gun and took another step toward her, she knew she had to shoot at him again or die; Once more, her finger tightened on the trigger and the explosion of gunfire deafened her.
As Duke had taken that fateful stride toward Reina, he'd moved into Clay's range, and Clay fired. He watched in satisfaction as the outlaw was dropped in his tracks.
Ignoring the throbbing pain in his upper arm, Clay got to his feet and ran back to his horse to mount up. He knew he had to get down there and make sure that the desperado was dead and that the women were all right. Putting his heels to his steed's sides, he raced down the incline to the stage.
Reina had squeezed off her shot at exactly the same time Clay had fired, and she'd watched in horror as Duke collapsed and lay unmoving in the dirt. When she realized that he wasn't getting up again, all the tension that had been sustaining her drained away. Her hands dropped weakly to her sides, and the gun, suddenly too heavy to hold, slipped from her trembling fingers.
Both Ruth and Melissa had shrieked as the sounds of the gunplay erupted around them, but when they saw that Reina was unhurt, they cried out in tearful joy.
"Sister! Thank God you're all right!" They ran to embrace her in thankful excitement.
"But I...I didn't..." Reina stared at the dead outlaw in disbelief, watching the growing stain of blood that was spreading across the back of his shirt. She realized in some confusion that she was not the one who'd shot Duke at all. He had been shot From some where else... somewhere behind him. "I couldn't have ...I mustn't have..."
Fred hurried out to join them, dropping to his knees beside Vic to make sure he was dead.
"Look!" Melissa's urgent cry drew their attention to the rider coming down the hillside, heading in their direction.
Fearing more trouble, Fred quickly snatched up his earlier discarded rifle as he turned to face the unknown man. Reina and Ruth, still standing close together, turned to watch his approach, too.
Their savior was a big man, and Reina felt a shiver run down her spine as she studied him from afar. He was dressed all in black, from the shirt that stretched tautly across the powerful width of his broad chest and shoulders to the tight-fitting pants that clung to his lean, muscular thighs. He wore his black Stetson pulled down low over his forehead so that it shadowed his eyes, effectively shielding them from her probing gaze, and the rest of his features were equally hidden beneath a slightly overgrown beard that was the same color as his dark brown hair. He sat his horse easily, almost as if he'd been born to the saddle, and he still held his gun at readiness as he rode toward them. Reina thought the man looked savagely dangerous; yet at the same time, she realized that he had to be a good man or he wouldn't have bothered to help them.
"He dead?" Clay called out brusquely to Fred, gesturing at Vic as he rode in. He did not look at the women yet, but kept his gaze riveted on the outlaws. He knew better than to trust the likes of Duke and Vic, and he would not relax his guard until he was sure they were no longer among the living.
"This one is," Fred answered.
"Good," his response was curt as he reined in close beside Duke's inert form. His movements were slow and deliberate as he dismounted and then knelt down beside the outlaw and to check and see if he was still breathing.
"Is he...?" Reina finally managed to ask in a voice that was tight with strangled emotions.
Clay heard the upset in the nun's voice, and he hastened to reassure her as he turned the dead man over for a better look at him. "Yes, Sister, he's good and dead. But you don't have to worry. It wasn't your shot that hit him. It was mine."
"Thank heaven..." she breathed.
"I'll go check on the other passenger," Fred said.
"There was another passenger?" Clay asked sharply, glancing up at the driver as he started off.
"Yes, and he was wounded trying to fight these murdering thieves off!" Ruth told him.
At the sound of "he," Clay knew the other passenger wasn't Reina Alvarez and disappointment washed through him.
"Sister," Ruth was saying, "I'll help Fred with Poke. You rest for a few minutes. You look terribly pale."
"Thanks, Ruth..."
"Sir, thank you for your help," Ruth told Clay. "Without your intervention, they might have killed all of us."
"You're welcome, ma'am."
Ruth gave him a warm smile and then hurried away with Melissa to aid Fred. When she'd moved off, Clay glanced up at the nun for the first time just to see how bad she really looked. Across the little distance that separated them, Clay's gunmetal gray eyes met Reina's dark, velvety brown ones, and he felt a shock wave reverberate through him clear to the depths of his soul. This was no old woman! he realized with great amazement. Why, this nun was young and very beautiful! The discovery left him momentarily speechless. How could he ever have thought she was old? Clay got slowly to his feet to face her.
Reina, too, was jolted by the unexpected charge of electrifying sensual recognition that exploded between them as their gazes met and held. Her breath caught in her throat, and time suddenly seemed suspended as she was nearly overwhelmed by the sheer animal force of this man's magnetism. The sensation enthralled her even as it left her puzzled and very discomfited.
Reina was not completely inexperienced where the opposite sex was concerned. She was a born coquette who loved to flirt. Yet, despite all the parties and balls she'd attended and all the suitors who'd courted her, not one of them had ever affected her the way this man had with just a single look.
Reina wondered what it was about this stranger that could disturb her so. Certainly, it wasn't just because he was particularly good-looking. Lord knows, she'd had dozens of handsomer, and definitely cleaner, men vying for her affections. This man was no more than a saddle tramp, a drifter of no obvious means, and yet his very nearness set her senses to spinning. She was pondering this perplexing thought as her dark eyes remained locked with his, and it was only Ruth's vaguely heeded call that restored her to sanity.
"Sister Mary Regina! Poke's still alive!"
Reality returned with jarring distress, and Reina found herself blushing a bit as she realized that she'd been very close to gawking at this man. As she tore her gaze away from his, she gave herself a fierce mental shake. She was Sister Maty Regina now, she scolded herself angrily. Surely, no self-respecting nun ever oogled a man! Trying to regain her composure, she glanced back tow
ard the stagecoach.
"Poke's alive?" she repeated.
"Yes," Fred called out in answer. "He's not conscious, but his pulse is steady. As soon as we get him bandaged up here, we'll head for the nearest waystation."
"Thank goodness," Reina said with heartfelt emotion, surprising herself to find that she really cared what happened to the old man.
Clay had been totally captivated as he stood there gazing at Reina. Though he could only see her face, there was no doubt in his mind that she was absolutely gorgeous. Her complexion was perfect, her mouth soft and inviting, her eyes wide and dark and so intriguing that he was sorry when the other woman had called out to them, interrupting the moment and causing her to look away from him.
It was only then, when Clay saw Reina blush, that he realized he'd embarrassed her by staring so boldly. A wave of guilt washed over him. Shes a nun, for Gods sake! he berated himself, trying to distract himself from his thoughts of her beauty. Yet, even as he fought to dismiss the attraction he felt for her, he couldn't understand why a woman of such obvious loveliness would want to join a convent. Surely men must have pursued her before she'd taken her vows. He wondered why she had chosen to lock herself away from the real world. Puzzled, he moved to holster his gun, and it was only then, when the pain stabbed at him, that he remembered his wound.
His painstaking action drew Reina's attention, and for the first time she noticed the makeshift tourniquet on his arm and the blood on his shirt. "You've been hurt!"
"It's only a scratch." Clay tried to discourage her concern, but Reina knew simple scratches didn't bleed that heavily.
"You must let me bandage it for you," she offered quickly.
"No, there's no need."
"There's every need, Mr....?"
"Cordell, Clay Cordell," he answered.
"You risked your life for us, Mr. Cordell. The least I can do is tend to your wound. Come over here," she insisted, reaching out to his good arm in an effort to urge him toward the stagecoach. The feel of his strongly muscled arm beneath her hand sent a tingle of awareness through her. The sensation was so strong that she almost let go as if burned by the contact, but she knew she couldn't do that without creating a scene. "Why don't you sit down here in the shade, while I get a canteen and see if there's anything we can use for bandages," she directed.
