“Flesh wound. Gotta reload.” Suppressing a wince of pain, he dived his hand inside his jacket pocket, pulling out a palm-sized cartridge. He opened Betsy and shoved it inside.
Seeing Dillon in pain, Kylie moved closer. Fury seized her, a red curtain of anger she’d never experienced before. Her hand acted as if it had a mind of its own. She gripped the butt of the holstered Colt 45 and had the sensation of ripping it free.
In seconds, she lay on her stomach, her elbows steadied by the swell of ground. With one eye gazing down the silver barrel of the Colt, she aimed at a tall wiry man bearing down on them. He raised his deadly looking rifle, swinging it toward Dillon.
Kylie fired, shooting again and again, the muted pops owning her eardrums. Their attacker staggered backward, collapsing in a heap while still clutching his rifle.
“Good girl,” she heard through the haze her brain had become. “Two more approaching. They’re sneakin’ behind the trucks.”
Catching sight of the movement, Kylie trained the barrel on their closest enemy, waiting.
“Ease up on the trigger, Sparks.”
Kylie heard the pain in his voice, and she felt herself steel with the determination to protect him. “Flesh wound?” she demanded in the quiet that followed, that is, except for the loudness of her own breathing.
“Need to let a little blood flow free, now ’n again. It’s cleansin’.”
“Don’t say blood.”
“Thought you blanched white. Betsy’s reloaded and backin’ you up.”
“Dammit. I swear if that idiot gets any closer, I’m blowing his effing legs off.”
“The varmint’s all yours. I got my eye on the other yellow-bellied polecat.”
“Polecat. Skunk, right? A skunk wouldn’t be that stupid.”
“Don’t make me laugh, Sparks. It hurts.”
“Dillon Vega!” A man’s coarse voice cut through thick air. “We got reinforcements, due anytime. Save the life of your wife. You got a judgment day comin’ in the Union of States.”
“Go back to the Union hell you crawled out of, you—”
The rest of Dillon’s growling bellow was lost to a thunderous crash, one that seemed to tremble the earth beneath Kylie for brief instants. A succession of crashes followed, along with the racing squeal of tires.
What the fuck! Was this how pickups sounded here when they smashed into each other—similar, but much less metallic. Not losing sight of her target’s boots, Kylie fired the instant he stopped behind a car that was parked close to the Tesla.
A howl split the air, and she watched him hop up and down on one combat-booted foot. About to shoot again, she saw the man hit the dirt and roll out of sight.
“Looks like the cavalry has arrived, Sparks. But don’t quit shootin’ yet.”
“Cavalry?” she shouted back. But, she knew even as she asked. Dono and Dash, they were here. Somehow, they’d known.
“Dash is slamming toward us. And looks like Dono is doin’ target practice on the remainin’ enemy.”
Kylie whooped inside just the way she’d heard Dash do. Not seconds later, the rebel’s anthem blared from a car-like horn at an ear-splitting level.
“Dash’s war song, must be through the barricade,” Dillon explained. “Got unwanted company.”
Betsy roared with utter authority. From her peripheral vision, Kylie saw the minimal flash of Dillon’s rifle. She heard a loud shocked grunt and instinctively knew an enemy crumpled not that far away from them.
She wasn’t certain why she kept her own gaze trained, searching for any other bad guys, instead of reacting, jerking around to see what had happened. Maybe it was all those westerns she’d seen with her mother. After all, hadn’t Dale Evans protected Roy Rogers, her eye and her gun steady?
True, Kylie didn’t like the violence of seeing someone get shot, either. Yet, at the same time, she felt fierce, ready to protect Dillon and herself.
Also, from the growling pause, then the sudden roar of Dash’s pickup, and the exchange of gunfire, she knew the fight continued.
“That’s it,” Dillon praised her. “It ain’t over till it’s over, Sparks.”
“Barricade?” She threw her voice back at him.
“The Union bastards had us blocked in—surrounded the restaurant with armored trucks. That was part of Arnie’s warning. The Tesla is good, but it won’t go over this kind of terrain.”
The enormity of the danger they’d faced down swept through Kylie like a slow tide. It both fortified her and threatened to make her fall apart, a damn emotional wreck.
Seeing her victim, Mr. Hop-a-Long, scurry away refocused her gaze, and she kept her eye pealed for anyone else sneaking up on them. “That should be funny,” she muttered. In a black-humor way, it was, she admitted. Somewhere inside, she laughed.
“God Almighty, Sparks, I could’ve used ten of you during the war.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Before Dillon could respond to her, Dash’s rebel horn pierced the air and the giant camo-painted pickup wheeled toward them. It skidded to a halt near the Tesla.
“Dillon,” Dono hollered. “Kylie!” He leaped out of the truck, sprinting in their direction. “They’re here,” he shouted over his shoulder. “Dillon’s been hit.”
Backing the pickup closer, Dash hopped out following in Dono’s wake.
“It’s okay, Kylie, sweet thang. You can let go of the gun now.”
“Afraid I’m going to shoot…never mind.”
“It’s happened before. A soldier gets so wound up his reflexes keep goin’.”
“Oh.” Kylie felt her muscles release, and she lowered the gun. It dropped against the ground, and she concentrated on loosening her fingers.
Dono stared at her for a moment. “Kylie.” His gentle concern poured through her like fresh water. Kneeling down, he scooped up the Colt. “You, okay, my sweetheart?”
Kylie gave a weak nod, then rolled to her side, and gazed up at Dono. “Dillon. Help him.”
“Don’t you worry,” Dash assured her. “I got the med kit. We’ll get big brother fixed up.”
Relief began as a small trickle, then began flooding through her as she watched them both hunker down next to Dillon. Between the two of them, they had his jacket and shirt off in no time and were examining his wound.
Dash moved closer, scrutinizing the damage. “Dang, Dillon, you took a zinger flame through the shoulder.”
Kylie scooted as fast she could toward Dillon as Dash opened the lid on a large gray container. He pulled out what looked like a syringe. Only, she didn’t see a needle.
From Dash’s tone, it didn’t sound good, whatever a zinger flame was, exactly. The image of the fiery bullet flying through his shoulder replayed in her head.
“Dillon.”
He opened his arm to her, and Kylie nearly leaped against him. Her arms locked themselves around his Viking-strong neck, and she clung to him.
“She saved that big hide of yours, didn’t she?”
Dono’s solemn tone shredded the last of her control.
Tears cascaded down her cheeks. “Dillon.” Kylie buried her face in the crook of his neck.
His big hand rubbed over her back. “Yep, our wife got between me and the Union polecats. Handled a gun like she was born to it.”
“Kylie, honey.” Dash gently gripped her shoulders. “I gotta put big brother out while we work on him. The toxin ain’t spread that much, but it has be stopped now.”
“No.” Kylie knew she should let go. Yet, everything inside her rebelled against doing just that. “No, Dillon, I don’t want you to die.”
“You’re my heaven, Sparks. I ain’t goin’ nowhere else.”
Somehow, she believed him, the promise of his gruffly spoken words. God, she did believe in their destiny together. Unwinding her arms, she let Dash lift her.
“Kylie.” Dono took hold of her and turned her to face him. “It’s gonna be fine.” His serious gaze penetrated to her soul. “Really, sweetheart, it ain
’t this dramatic.”
Fresh tears flowed down her cheeks.
“Oh, darlin’, I’m sorry.” Dono hugged her close and rocked her. “Dillon’s tough as rawhide. This won’t take long. Come on, why don’t you wait inside the truck?”
“No.” Kylie stepped back from him, swiping at her tears. “No, I’ll wait here. I won’t get in the way.”
“Dono. Need you now,” Dash summoned, his voice tense.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
No One Corrals Me This Way
With his heartstrings threatening to snap, Dono felt torn between his brother and his wife.
“Go.” Kylie whirled away from him. “I won’t have Dillon compromised because of me, my emotional crap silliness.”
Pivoting, Dono rushed to assist Dash. The knockout juice he’d administered with the skin-penetrating force of the injector had taken over Dillon’s big body. His eyes had shut, his body lax as if he slept.
“Here.” Dash thrust the spectrum device into Dono’s ready hand. “You light him up, and I’ll neutralize all the toxin.”
Carefully, Dono searched the flesh around Dillon’s nasty four-inch wound with the specialized beam. As soon as he located the toxin’s advance toward Dillon’s heart, he held the device steady, and Dash used what they called the extractor to suck up the paralyzing poison, along with the dried and drying blood.
Amazingly effective and fast, the process was also agonizing.
“Hell, I knew it.” Dash continued working with painstaking thoroughness. “Big brother ain’t just a man. He’s a dang force of creation, itself. He shoulda been unmovin’ as a log by now, and not from what I gave him neither.”
“Not so loud,” Dono cautioned in a whisper. “Kylie, remember?”
“I can hear you,” she called out. “What’s wrong?”
“Nearly finished, honey,” Dash replied. Continuing to pull out the toxin, he closed in on the wound itself. “The Union cowards didn’t want Dillon dead, just on the incapacitated side.”
“I suppose that’s supposed to make me feel better,” she yelled back. “Well, actually, it does. You know, he saved me, too. With Betsy. I mean, after he was shot and we were…oh, it’s not important right now. Sorry. I just want him healed.”
“It’s important, darlin’.” Dono heard her anxious pacing. “Dash is gettin’ him all fixed up, bright and shiny as a new penny.”
“New penny,” she muttered.
Dono listened to her pace faster. “We’ll have to turn him over and check. I don’t trust—”
”Yep, thinkin’ that myself,” Dash interrupted. “The Lord as my witness, who knows what bio advances they’ve brewed up over there.”
“Lookin’ good,” Dono encouraged. Dillon’s flesh had flushed back to a more normal color by the time Dash cleaned up the blood and worked on the edges of the wound.
“Should I dump the honey on him now or wait until we’ve cleaned up the other side?” Dash asked.
“Now. I’ll hold a gauze pad on him.”
Laying the extractor the spectrum device aside, Dash grabbed the plastic tube of honey, then squeezed a thick layer over the wound. On contact, it melted with Dillon’s body heat. Ripping open a large square package, he removed a gauze pad and pressed it over the area.
Dono firmly placed his palm over the pad and between the two of them, they rolled Dillon over, so Dash had full access to the exit wound. Once again, Dono shone the specialized beam, looking for any sign of the poison.
“Don’t see nothin’.” Dash positioned the extractor. “But I ain’t takin’ no chances neither.” With slow precision, Dash circled the wound, cleaning up the minimal blood as he worked. “Dillon’s gonna be grumpier than a starvin’ bear for a day or so. I’m makin’ his flesh mighty sore.”
“Maybe. Maybe he’ll just be glad he’s got Kylie and everything’s righter than rain.”
“Hell’s ringing swinging bells, he cut down a squad of invadin’ Union bounty hunters. Oughta be glad about that.”
“We did some of our own cuttin’ down. Looks like the Cleaners have arrived here.” Dono glanced over his shoulder.
“Cleaners, is that what they’re called?” Kylie asked. “All those men who are taking care of, or loading up…the bodies?”
“That’s right, darlin’. We’ll explain more later.”
“Dillon’s okay, right?”
Her tiny worried voice felt like an arrow through Dono’s heart, and not one of Cupid’s, either.
“In a day or so, Dillon will be his usual self and wantin’ more of your good lovin’.”
Dono watched Dash layer on the honey, then slap on another pad. After reaching for a long heavy gauze bandage, he secured the two pads by anchoring the strip of cloth around Dillon’s neck. It was the old-fashioned method of bandaging, but generally promoted a faster healing.
Gentle as they could manage, they got Dillon’s shirt and jacket back on, draping them over his wounded shoulder. Working as the team they were, they placed Dillon on his back and positioned him so they could pick him up easy.
“He’s comin’ around already.” Dash checked Dillon’s pulse. “We better get him inside the truck, or he’ll be growling at us about driving the Tesla back. You got the code, right, Dono?”
“Yep, I’ll follow you back. Give me a chance to explain things to our wife and find out what she knows.” Dono bent at the knees and slid his hands beneath Dillon’s boots, grasping his ankles.
Dash nodded, then threw a long glance at Kylie before he crouched down. To get a good grip on both of Dillon’s armpits, he bunched the jacket and shirt up. Together, he and Dono hoisted their brother upward moving in tandem toward the pickup. Kylie strode rapidly ahead of them.
“Should I open the back passenger door?” she hollered.
“Nope,” Dash answered. “Open the front passenger door. Dillon’ll wake up soon and crawl up to the front if he’s lyin’ on the backseat.”
Rushing to the door, Kylie jerked it open, her little face pale with anxiety and with the ordeal she’d been through.
“Honey.” Dash waited for Dono to rotate Dillon around, so they could seat him. “You need to be sittin’ down. Dono’s gonna drive you back in the Tesla.”
She nodded, then watched them load Dillon onto the seat as comfortably as they could manage. Dash shut the door carefully. “Logan’s headed our way. I’m gonna persuade him to let us get out of here fast.”
“I’ll go get the med kit. You get the truck powered up.” Dono tenderly claimed Kylie’s shoulders. “Let’s get you some fortified honey.”
“Logan,” Dash hailed. “Looks like you and your boys have got things under dandy control. What’da need to know?”
“Fortified?” His wife leaned against his side and surrounded his middle with her little arms, holding onto him. Dono kept his stride slow and noticed her movements were stilted.
“Extra nutrition and herbs. Your blood sugar needs takin’ care of.”
“Yes.” She sighed. “I heard you and Dash say you did some cuttin’ down. What happened?”
“Ran smack into a Union ambush. I’m thinkin’, darlin’, I need your story first, to put some pieces together. But let’s get honey into you and get on the road.”
“What about the ranch? Since none of you are there?”
“There’s an auto-alert on the entrance arch that let’s our four ranch managers know.”
“Four ranch managers?”
“Yep, they’re stationed in the four quadrants of the ranch with their own homes and operatin’ ranches. They help watch over the cattle, our wild horse herds and the land. Besides, Bonnie and her ferocious crew don’t mind fang-shreddin’ those who don’t belong.”
“Bonnie. I’ll bet she’ll be anxious over Dillon.”
“She might be meetin’ him at the arch, demanding to be let inside the truck.”
Dono kept Kylie’s shoulders embraced as he leaned over the med kit. Finding the bottle of medicinal honey, he palme
d it before snapping the lid down on the kit. Since it secured itself, he gripped the handle and turned them back toward the pickup.
“What exactly do the Cleaners do?” she asked.
Deciding he’d wait to give her the honey, despite her shaky little voice, Dono answered, “The part of our governing body that cleans up after a Union incursion. They save whoever they can, then interrogate and imprison the enemy. Sometimes, the prisoners are used as bargaining chips to get our own back. The Cleaner’s teams also restore whatever’s been damaged. Land, property. They make everything right as they can.”
“Interesting concept. How does it work in reality?”
Dono realized his precious Kylie asked, not only out of curiosity but also to distract herself, to not let her emotions loose. “Been workin’ real good. It’s our one concession to having a centralized agency. Course, they’re watched by other groups and work with a number of intelligence groups like the one Dillon and Sheriff Taylor belong to.”
“I don’t feel up to talking with them, the Cleaners.”
“You won’t have to, sweetheart. Anything they need to know Dillon can report later.”
“Dono.” She sagged against him, then partly collapsed, yet her legs still moved, even as he stopped in his tracks.
Setting the med kit down, Dono grabbed her close, keeping her upright. “Baby, sweetheart.”
“I’ve run out of energy.” She let her head fall onto his chest. “Oh, you smell so good. Hay and horses and man sweat. Dono, I think I’m fading away.”
Tightening one arm around her, Dono undid the lid on the honey quickly. “Kylie, open your mouth.” He scooped out a finger’s worth and placed it beneath her tongue. “Just let it absorb for a while, darlin’.”
She gave a small weary nod, then rested her head on his chest again.
“Dash,” Dono hollered. “I gotta carry Kylie to the Tesla.”
In a few moments, Dash ran toward them. After peering at Kylie’s face, he checked her wrist pulse. “You’re gonna be fine. You’re just crashin’ from everything you’ve been through, my little brave honey lamb.”
Dash patted and stroked her shoulder for a few moments, then eyed Dono. “Git out of here while the gittin’s good. Logan has an extra prickly bur under saddle about what happened. Don’t know why exactly.”
Branded by the Texans [Three Star Republic] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 35
