"I don't know why Doc feels the need to interfere," Anderson said sourly, squirming on his stool.
Sam's bronze hand hovered idly above the box. "Maybe Doc's lettin' this whole damn town know which side of the fence he's comin' down on, Anderson."
A chill marched up Allie's spine at Sam's deadly tone. She looked up at him, but his eyes were locked on the storekeeper across the counter.
Anderson looked away first, and Sam's hand finally closed over the box of shells. "Just like we all know whose side you're on."
Allie quickly unknotted the handkerchief and laid the money on the counter. Ben stood beside Sam unflinchingly. His eyes were riveted on the storekeeper, as well.
"Here, Zach." Allie pushed the money over to him, but he didn't reach for it. He didn't even look her way. He swallowed hard, as if unable to glance away from the two young men who challenged him in stony silence.
"'Get his gun, Arnie,'" Ben mocked softly. "We heard all about it."
Anderson blanched and drew back with a sharp, inward hissing sound. "Who—"
"Some of the boys, Zach," Sam said. "Some of the children of the citizens of this good town. They saw it all." Sam hefted the box from the counter. "Word's already spread that you were the one yelling for Smith to get Mr. Gabriel's gun. You're a real man, Anderson."
"It wasn't like that! You don't know – you weren't there!"
"Zach!" Allie's tone made him jerk around to look at her. "Here's the money. We need to get going."
"Tell them, Allie. Tell Mr. Gabriel. I was just doing what I had to do!"
Allie shook her head. "Not from where I was standing, Zach."
He moistened his lips, and Allie noticed the dark rings of perspiration at this armpits. He untied the apron at his back and wearily shrugged it off, hanging it on a peg behind the counter. But he didn't completely turn his back on Sam and Ben.
It struck Allie in that moment just how much Sam reminded her of Brandon. Sam wasn't much older than Brandon had been when he'd run from the orphans' home. The last time she'd seen Brandon before he'd left, he'd worn defiance in every line of his body, just as Sam did now.
Zach turned back to the counter, and with shaking hands, he picked up the money, made change, and handed the coins back to Allie.
"Thank you, Zach." Even her words couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from Sam's face. "Oh, and we'll have two pieces of peppermint—"
"Here. Here – just take as much as you want." He opened the jar and reached for a length of paper to wrap the candy in.
"No – we don't need that much – Zach—" But her attempts to stop him fell on deaf ears. He hastily wrapped up a handful of the peppermint sticks and tied twine around the paper, then handed her the package.
"How much do I owe you?" she asked.
"M-My compliments. For placing such a large order." He drew a hand across his mouth. "Anything else, Mrs. Taylor?"
Allie smiled. "No. And it's Mrs. Gabriel, now, Zach. Brandon and I were married."
He looked at her in wide-eyed shock. "M-Married, you say?"
"Yes. Married."
"So, I guess…that means he'll be staying here in Spring Branch – you bein' married an' all? I mean, well – that's a good thing! Congratulations! Tell him I said congratulations, won't you?" He glanced from Sam to Ben, then back to Allie. "Tell him, son— No hard feelings – you'll tell him Zach Anderson said—"
"My brother will be glad to know there are 'no hard feelings' – asshole."
Sam's words were spoken in perfect Comanche, and Allie could barely keep the shock from her face. Her head swiveled, her eyes arrowing to Sam's and holding.
"We'll tell him, Zach." She managed to turn for the door, ignoring the storekeeper's quizzical expression. Please let them come with no trouble.
She descended the steps, as if she believed there would be no question as to whether or not they would follow; relieved to hear two pairs of boots sounding close behind her. Sam laid the rifle shells in the bed of the wagon, taking the parcel of candy from Allie to put it atop the cardboard box of cartridges, then vaulted up to sit beside her. But just as he did, Abe Johnson's big fist closed around the back of his shirt. He pulled Sam down off the wagon and threw him in the hard-packed street.
Sam sprawled in the dirt, the big man towering over him. "What'd you do to Tom, you filthy half-breed? Huh?" He reached down to grab a fistful of Sam's shirt again, but Sam rolled lithely away, and when he came to his feet, there was a gun in his hand.
The pepperbox derringer.
Ben stiffened beside Allie, uncertain as to whether to join the fight or protect Allie. She felt his indecision, and laid a hand on his knee.
"You young whelp! You dare to pull a gun on me?" Johnson started to laugh. "Not much of a gun, at that."
"Big enough."
Johnson shrugged. "Not much firepower. You better not miss. You've only got two shots."