Emma’s stomach roiled. She swallowed down the urge to retch and turned her gaze away to scan the area. She had to figure out if the second man was nearby.
“Let me take Ned,” Flora pleaded, her voice raspy and broken as she struggled onto her hands and knees. “He’s just a boy. Too young to be drawn into your schemes. They have men in town. Fighting men. And all the women are armed now. He could be hurt! Let me take him away from here, and you can do whatever you think you must.”
The man growled and kicked his wife again. She sprawled back into the dirt. “You ain’t takin’ the boy from me. He’s mine now. You had him all those years I was stuck in prison and you turned him into a milk-faced baby. Always whining. Askin’ where his ma is. Fussin’ about goin’ home.” Angus spat into Flora’s face. She barely flinched and made no move to wipe the offensive liquid away. “The kid’s got no backbone. This’ll make a man outta him. Show him the value of patience, of planning and hard work. And if we gotta kill us a few womenfolk to get that stubborn bloomer brigade to finally clear out, well, that’ll just harden him up. Teach him not to let anything stand in the way of his goals.”
The second man was a boy? Flora’s son? No wonder she didn’t flee. She couldn’t leave him to this monster.
On the other hand . . . Emma glanced around a final time . . . neither would Angus speak in such derogatory terms about his son if the boy was within earshot. That meant he was alone. Emma raised her rifle into position against her shoulder and eased a little farther around the tree.
“For the last five years I did nothing but plan and plot in that rotten hole, and nothin’ is gonna stop me from gettin’ that gold. Not you.” He kicked her again in the ribs. Flora curled up in a ball and moaned.
Gold? That’s what this was all about? Money?
“Not that pansy son o’ mine.” Another kick. “And not a pair of two-bit cowboys trying to be knights in stinkin’ armor.” He reared back for another kick, but Emma stepped out from behind the tree and aimed her rifle straight at his chest.
“Back away from her,” she ground out in the meanest voice she could muster.
Malachi would have been proud. Her arms weren’t shaking. Her aim was true. And she had so much anger and indignation swimming through her veins, she thought she just might be able to pull the trigger without experiencing a single morsel of regret.
The stocky man stilled his swinging leg and cocked a glance toward Emma. His yellowed teeth winked at her as he grinned in a way that was the precise opposite of welcoming. “Well, looky here. One of the bloomer brigade followed you, Flora. Pretty sure she’s all on her lonesome, though.” He casually scanned the area. “Aren’t ya, honey?”
Emma gritted her teeth. She wanted to shout that she wasn’t this foul vermin’s honey, but something warned that getting riled would only give him reason to gloat. She’d not give him that satisfaction. She took a step forward, satisfaction zinging through her when one of his dust-laden eyebrows craned up in surprise.
“Flora needs medical attention. I’m taking her back to town with me.” Emma took another step, stopping a few feet from Flora’s fallen form, not wanting to get too close to the ham-fisted man standing over her.
Angus crossed his arms over his chest. “You ain’t takin’ her anywhere, sweet pea. That there’s my wife. My . . . property. To do with as I see fit.”
“She’s a human being. No man’s property.”
The fiend leered at Emma, interest lighting his eyes. “You got fire in you, don’t ya, sweeting?”
Emma choked down a growl. If that man threw one more of those disgusting endearments at her, she’d not be responsible for the reaction of her trigger finger.
“I like fire in a woman.” He licked his lips and Emma nearly gagged. “Flora used to have spunk like that, too. Till I beat it outta her. Wonder how long it would take your spark to fade?”
You’re never going to find out! Even as her mind screamed denials, her gaze remained cool, her aim steady.
“Flora,” she said in a gentle voice. “Can you stand?”
Clothing rustled, punctuated by a small groan. Emma prayed that meant Flora was finding the strength to rise. Emma couldn’t afford to take her eyes off the man in front of her to verify.
“Yer pretty, too,” the lecher continued, showing no regard whatsoever for the wife lying broken and bleeding on the ground in front of him. “Dark hair. Shiny eyes. Uppity attitude. Hmm . . .” He grew thoughtful. His head leaned back and his gaze narrowed as he surveyed her more closely. “Stubborn. Controlling. Wanting to call the shots.” His face cleared, and an awful smile parted his beard. “You’re the banker lady that runs the town, ain’t ya? I think you and me need to get better acquainted.”
He lunged.
Emma pulled the trigger. The rifle kicked back into her shoulder, throwing off her balance.