"Been chasing them since dawn." "They don't look like they want to be caught." "Well, that's the thing about debts," the man said, leaning forward in his saddle. "Don't much matter what they want. They took something that wasn't theirs."
"We're just collecting what's owed." Cole didn't look back at the women. He kept his eyes on the riders. "What'd they take?" "Horses, food, a rifle, if you can believe it."
The man's grin widened. "And one of them put a knife in my brother's leg before they ran. So you see, friend, this ain't a conversation. This is us taking back what's ours." "Your brother still breathing?"
The man's grin faltered. "What?" "Your brother. He alive?" "Yeah, he's alive. What's that got to do with—"
"Then you got no reason to kill them." The easy air vanished. The man's hand drifted toward the revolver on his hip. "You're stepping into something that ain't your concern, mister." Cole shifted his weight, thumbing back the rifle's hammer with a quiet click.
"I'm making it my concern." For a long moment, nobody moved. The wind kicked up dust between them, and Cole could feel the women's eyes on his back, waiting to see if he'd actually follow through or if this was just talk. The hunters were weighing odds, trying to decide if one man with a rifle was worth the trouble.
The bearded man spat into the dirt. "You're a damn fool." "Been called worse." The tension broke with the sudden crack of a gunshot. Not from Cole, from one of the other riders, a wiry man with a scar splitting his eyebrow.
The bullet whined past Cole's shoulder, close enough to feel the heat. Cole didn't flinch. He swung the Winchester up and fired in one smooth motion, and the wiry man jerked backward, clutching his arm as his horse reared. Then everything went to hell. The other three riders scattered, yanking their mounts sideways and reaching for their weapons.
Cole worked the lever, ejected the spent shell, and fired again. This time taking the hat clean off the bearded man's head. The man cursed, hauling his horse around, and Cole knew he had maybe three seconds before they got organized and came at him from different angles. "Get down!" he shouted over his shoulder.
The women didn't need telling twice. They hit the dirt, flattening themselves behind a low outcrop of rock. Cole dropped to one knee, using the creek bed's edge for cover, and fired twice more in rapid succession. One shot went wide. The other punched through the shoulder of a rider trying to flank left, and the man let out a howl, dropping his rifle.
The bearded man was bellowing orders now, his voice sharp and furious. "Circle around! Pin him down!" But Cole wasn't staying put. He scrambled backward, keeping low, moving toward the rocks where the women had taken cover. Another shot cracked past him, kicking up dirt inches from his boot.
He twisted, fired blind over his shoulder, and heard a horse scream. One of the riders went down hard, thrown when his mount stumbled. Cole reached the rocks and slid in beside the women, breathing hard. The tall one, the one who'd looked at him first, was pressed against the stone, eyes wide but steady. "You got a gun?" Cole asked.