Mine, too. The grin widened. We're the ones who put that woman on that block. And we've come to take her back. Then why sell her at all?
A question meant to buy time, nothing more. Figured somebody'd pay real money, the leader said, shrugging like the whole thing hardly mattered. Nobody would touch her on account of the veil, so we planned to cut our losses, sell her plane, forget the ransom. Then you showed up and complicated our mourning. I already paid for her.
She's mine now. We put a good deal more into catching her than you paid. All the humor drained out of his voice, at once, cold and flat. Hand her over and maybe you ride off breathing. His men spread wider, circling in from different angles, and Wyatt ran the math fast.
Five guns to his one limited cartridges Duke 2 spent for any kind of run. Not happening. Shame the leader's face went hard, boys. Bring me the woman. Kill him if he argues.
Wyatt's first shot kicked dirt an inch shy of the nearest man's boot. Next one won't miss. The men froze, checking their leader for orders, and the leader wasn't smiling anymore at all. That was when the veiled woman moved. She came off the ground behind her boulder, faster than Wyatt had time to process, quick as a spooked cat, and stripped the spare pistol clean from his belt before he understood what was happening.
Her first shot took the leader's hat off his skull. Her second knocked a pistol from another man's hand before he'd even cleared leather. Her third punched a clean hole through a canteen hanging off a saddle horn. All of it inside four heartbeats. Every rider on that trail, frozen, staring at a woman who wasn't trembling, wasn't hesitating, wasn't anything close to the helpless prisoner they had expected to reclaim.
It's her. One bandits voice cracked with sudden fear. That's Grey Owl's own daughter. The scarred man's face drained pale. Whatever arrogance had been sitting on it a moment ago vanished, replaced by something close to dread.
We didn't know. Figured she was just some prisoner, that's all. She took one slow step forward, pistol steady in both hands, and didn't need a single word. Her whole body promised the next shot wouldn't miss on purpose. Go.
Wyatt sees the moment. And if I see any of you again, I won't be near this. Friendly. Nobody needed telling twice. The bandits scrambled onto their horses in a tangle of panic.