The Christmas Journey Read Online Free PDF Page A

injuryshe’d never forgive herself. The least she could do was race in, fire a few shots to distract the bushwhackers, and then get out before they could react.
    She refused to believe she might already be too late.

Chapter Four
    R y grimly took stock of the situation from his position behind the fallen horse.
    He thanked God for the hunter who’d fired that shot. If the sound hadn’t caught his attention it would likely be his blood staining the ground instead of Scout’s.
    The horse jerked, making a feeble attempt to get up. Ry patted the animal’s back. “Easy boy.” Scout’s muscles quivered under his hand.
    Ry’s jaw clenched at the animal’s struggle. Those gunmen had a lot to pay for.
    But he couldn’t collect on that debt if he stayed belly to the ground with only the horse for cover. His pistol wouldn’t do him much good unless the highwaymen got a whole lot closer, something he’d rather they not do.
    If he could just get to the rifle Miss Wylie had loaned him…
    The scabbard was tantalizingly close, yet too far to reach without giving the unseen enemy a clear shot. Silently apologizing to Scout, Ry pulled against the saddle with one hand, tugging at the weapon with the other. The rifle slid a few inches, then stopped.
    More shots rang out and a searing pain exploded through Ry’s shoulder. With an oath, he flattened himself to the ground again.
    A quick check revealed that the bullet had passed through the fleshy part of his upper left arm. Lots of blood and it felt as if a hot poker were pressed against his skin, but the wound probably wasn’t serious. Leastways, not nearly as serious as things were going to get if he didn’t yank that rifle free.
    “He ain’t firing back.”
    That sounded like Scarcheek’s voice hissing across the clearing. So this wasn’t a random attack.
    “You reckon he’s hit, or just playing possum?”
    That had to be Mustache.
    “Only one way to find out.”
    The gunmen didn’t try to hide their approach. They’d be on him in a minute and he had no doubts about what would happen next.
    He had to get hold of that rifle! If he could fire before they were on him, he might have time to get off two shots.
    Keeping as flat as possible, Ry ignored the pain in his arm, grasped the rifle with both hands, and yanked for all he was worth.
    But it was no good, not from this angle anyway. He pulled out his derringer and prepared for the worse. He wouldn’t make this easy for them. Sorry Belle, seems I’m not going to be there for you after all.
    A moment later, two man-sized shadows blocked the sun.
    “Well, looky here. Pretty Boy done got all mussed up.”
    Ry twisted his neck to see the two men looming over him, their ugly grins and rifles pointed at his back. He slowly raised himself to a crouch, carefully keeping his pistol hidden. He might not live to see nightfall but at least one of these cowards was going down with him.
    “That’s right.” Scarcheek made a menacing motion with his rifle. “Up where I can see your face and hands.”
    Tension coiled inside Ry. His muscles bunched, ready to spring. He had to make this move count.
    It would be the only one he had.
    “Ayyiiieeeeee!”
    The shrill war cry shattered nerves already drawn taught. Scarcheek and Mustache whirled around as a wildman swooped into the clearing, riding at breakneck speed straight toward them.
    Thank you, God.
    Scout made another spasmodic attempt to rise and Ry dove for the rifle. Ignoring the pain in his arm, he jerked the weapon free an eyeblink before the horse collapsed again.
    The mounted banshee fired two shots that missed their marks.
    Mustache returned fire and the one-man cavalry charge leaned lower in the saddle. The rider’s hat went flying and a tawny braid flapped free, whipping in the wind like the tail of a kite.
    Miss Wylie!
    Was the woman insane? He’d wring her neck over this fool stunt.
    If they lived long enough…
    Seeing the men take aim at his rescuer, Ry gritted his