“Now the holster.” Angus gestured with a jerk of his chin.
Mal unbuckled the gun belt, folded it over, and tossed it in the same direction as the rifle. Then he raised his hands in the air to show himself unarmed. In truth he still had a knife in his boot and a second revolver in the waistband of his trousers against the small of his back, but he figured his opponent would be similarly armed during their truce.
Holding Emma tight with a beefy arm across her midsection, pinning her hands to her sides, Angus slowly worked the buckle loose on his own gun belt and let it fall to the ground. Instead of kicking it away, he dragged Emma three paces to the left.
“Go on, boy,” the outlaw ordered his son. “Get me my gold.”
Ned marched forward, his pistol never wavering. But as he neared, Mal saw all the fear and uncertainty playing in his eyes. Flora had been right. The kid was in over his head. He put on a good show, probably learned that skill early on in order to avoid his pa’s temper, but he hadn’t yet learned how to deaden the truth from his eyes.
When the boy stood two paces away, Mal whispered to him in a voice barely loud enough to carry between the two of them. “Your ma will tell you where the gold is. She’s in the church.”
Ned’s eyebrows arched so high they disappeared behind the shaggy hair hanging over his forehead. The gun gave a little wobble.
“What’s he tellin’ ya, boy?” Angus demanded. “Where’s my gold?”
Like a good little solider, Ned kept his gaze trained on the target and never looked away as he called out to his father. “I-I don’t know. He said there . . . there’d be a message inside the church.”
“Well, get after it, then.”
“What about him?” Ned asked, tipping his head toward Mal.
Angus grinned and moved his left hand up to Emma’s throat. She shook her head vigorously from side to side in an effort to escape his grasp, but he was too strong and she had nowhere to go. “Don’t worry ’bout him, boy. He won’t try nothin’. Not while I got his woman. If he does, I’ll just squeeze. Shouldn’t take long for the little lady to suffocate. Such a delicate creature. Ain’t that right, Shaw?”
Angus tightened his grip beneath Emma’s jaw, forcing her chin up toward the sky. Mal seethed but held his position. As long as she was still breathing, he had to let this play out.
38
Tension coiled like a spring inside Emma, her senses on high alert even as the outlaw’s hand tightened on her throat, making it difficult to breathe. She knew Malachi must have a plan, but she couldn’t see him. Not with her head tilted so far upward. If he gave a signal, she wouldn’t see it. And she couldn’t risk making a move before he was ready. Not if she wanted to ensure his safety.
Angus had another gun. It was jabbing her in the back. Not only was she shielding the outlaw from gunfire, but she was also blocking Malachi from seeing the weapon Angus had tucked into the front of his trousers. A weapon he had every intention of utilizing as soon as he got what he wanted.
“What’s takin’ so long, boy?” Angus shouted, his booming voice so close to her face her ears rang. “Is my gold in there?”
Ned didn’t answer.
Emma’s already pounding heart thumped a little faster. Was this part of the plan? Getting Ned away from his father? But why would he stay in the church? What had Mal told him?
“Ned! Answer me, boy!” Angus’s grip on her throat tightened. She winced at the pressure and rose up on her tiptoes in a vain effort to open her airway.
“You ready to see your woman die, Shaw?” Angus shoved her forward a couple steps as he advanced toward Mal. “If I don’t see either my boy or my gold in—”
A loud bong cut off his words. Angus jerked his gaze toward the steeple. His grip loosened a fraction. Emma struck.
She thrust her elbow backward into his belly as hard as she could. Air whooshed from his lungs. His hold faltered as he dropped to his knees. She twisted away and fell to the ground, knowing Mal would never defend himself if she was in the way.
At the same time her back collided with the hard earth, Angus’s hand closed around his pistol. Emma drew up her knees. Focused on the gun. Kicked out with all her might. Her right heel connected just as a shot rang out. The gun went flying, but so had a bullet.
Malachi!
Emma frantically rolled to the side, her gaze searching. Had he been hit?
No. He was running toward her. Shouting her name. A revolver miraculously in his hand.
Brutal arms grabbed her and tried to lift her from the ground, but she refused to be the outlaw’s shield again. She rolled to her back and kicked savagely at his knee.
He groaned. Stumbled. Reached for something inside his boot.
A knife!