It did not come from me. It came from Nia. Silas barely had time to turn his head. Too late. A blade drove beneath his shoulder.
His body went rigid. His fingers loosened around my throat. I collapsed sideways, dragging air desperately into my lungs. Nia stood behind him. Blood had soaked nearly one side of her dress.
She could barely remain on her feet, but both hands held the old Apache knife that had belonged to Taza. Silas tried to turn toward her. She struck him again. Once, then again, and one final time. Silas stopped moving.
Silence descended over the yard. His body slowly crumpled into the dirt. Nia released the knife. For one brief moment, our eyes met. She tried to smile.
She could not. Her legs gave way. I reached her before she struck the ground. I caught her in my arms as blood continued flowing from the wound. No. I pressed both hands against her side.
You are not dying. She struggled for breath. Her lips barely moved. You're heavier than you look. A broken laugh escaped me through my tears.
That means you still have enough strength left to argue. Her eyes began to close. Wade. No. I shook my head. Don't talk.
Stay with me. Listen to my voice. You don't get to surrender now. Jeb came running toward us. Blood stained one sleeve, though I could not tell whether it belonged to him or one of Silus Crow's writers.
He examined Nia's wound. His expression changed at once. "She's lost too much blood." He looked up at me. "We doc boon right now."
I nodded without lifting my hands from her wound. Jeb ran toward the horses. Within seconds, he was in the saddle. Before riding away, he shouted back at me, "Hold on, Wade. I'll bring the doctor back, even if I have to cross half the territory to do it."
I watched Jeb disappear behind a long trail of dust. Then I gave Nia my complete attention. Her breathing was growing weaker. Flames still gnawed at part of the cabin roof. Bodies lay around us amid smoke and the bitter smell of gunpowder.