Rhett knew they were out of time and options. He stood up, gun drawn, pointing it at a thin man in a suit who looked more annoyed than frightened. "Don't move," Rhett said. Vickers stared at him, then at Ayah rising beside him.
Recognition flickered across his face. "The Apache woman," he said. "And the cowboy. Coleman said you were smarter than this."
"Coleman's wrong about a lot of things." The other man, younger, harder-looking, reached for his gun. Rhett swung his revolver toward him. "I wouldn't."
"I'm faster than I look, and I've got nothing to lose." The man froze, hand hovering over his holster. "James," Vickers said calmly. "Do as he says."
James raised his hands slowly. "Good choice," Rhett said. "Now, here's what's going to happen. You're going to sit in that chair."
He gestured with the gun toward a wooden chair near the window. "And you're going to stay very quiet while we leave. Understand?" "You won't make it out of town," Vickers said, moving to the chair.
"I have men everywhere." "Then I guess we'll have to be creative." Rhett glanced at Ayah. "Get the bag. All of it."
She grabbed the canvas bag, now heavy with documents, and slung it over her shoulder. Her hands had stopped shaking. Instead, there was something fierce in her expression that Rhett had never seen before. "You know what you are?" she said to Vickers.
"You're worse than the men who destroyed my people. They were cruel, but at least they didn't pretend it was business. You hide behind papers and laws and call yourself civilized while you buy and sell human beings. You're a coward."
Vickers's face flushed. "You don't understand economics, girl. Someone has to do the work. Might as well be people who don't matter."
Ayah stepped closer to him, and Rhett saw Vickers actually flinch. "I matter. Every person in that ledger matters. And you're going to answer for what you've done."
"With what proof? Those documents are legal. Everything I do is within territorial law." "Then the law's broken," Rhett said. "And we're going to fix it."
He backed toward the door, keeping the gun trained on both men. Ayah followed, and they were almost to the threshold when James made his move. The man was fast, faster than Rhett expected. He lunged, hand closing around Ayah's arm, yanking her backward.
She cried out, stumbling, and the bag fell from her shoulder, papers scattering. Rhett fired. The shot was loud in the enclosed space, deafening. James screamed and fell backward, clutching his shoulder.
Not a killing shot, but enough to put him down. Vickers dove behind the desk. Rhett grabbed Ayah, pulling her toward the door as shouts erupted from downstairs. "The papers," she said.
"Leave them. We have to move." "No. We need proof." She dropped to her knees, frantically gathering documents while Rhett covered the door.