That would be their mistake. Wyatt checked the revolver. Five rounds. Not enough for a prolonged fight, but enough for what needed doing. He glanced at Ayla, saw her nod, and they slipped out into the night.
The snow muffled their footsteps as they crept across the yard. Wyatt kept to the shadows, using the corral fence as cover 20 feet from the cabin. Fifteen. Ten.. Close enough now that he could hear their conversation.
"Should have just shot him when we had the chance," Davis was saying. "Now we got to babysit the son of a— all night." "Harlo wants him alive." The other man said, "Wants to use him as bait when the girl comes back. "She ain't coming back.
She's probably halfway to the next territory by now." "Maybe, but Harlo don't think so. Says she's got a soft spot for the old rancher. Says she'll come back for him." Harlo took a long pull from the bottle and wiped his mouth.
"She will. Women are stupid that way. Can't help themselves. They get attached and they make mistakes." Wyatt stepped out of the shadows.
The revolver leveled at Harlo's head. "You're right about one thing," he said. "Somebody made a mistake tonight. But it wasn't her." All three men froze.
Harlo's hand started moving toward his gun, then stopped when Wyatt cocked the hammer. "Don't," Wyatt said. Davis started to stand. Ayla stepped out behind Wyatt, her rifle aimed at Davis's chest. "Sit down."
He sat. For a moment, nobody moved. The wind whistled through the gap between the cabin and the barn, and somewhere in the distance, a coyote howled. Wyatt kept the gun steady, his finger resting light on the trigger. "Well," Harlo said finally.
"Looks like I underestimated you both." "Yeah," Wyatt said. "You did." "What now? You going to shoot us in cold blood?
That make you better than me?" "Never said I was better, but I'll sleep fine tonight either way." Harlo's eyes narrowed. "You won't get away with this. Kill us and there will be people asking questions, people looking for us."
"Let them look. Won't change what happens here." "Wyatt." Ayla's voice was soft but urgent. He glanced back at her.
She was looking past the men toward the horizon. Wyatt followed her gaze and felt his stomach drop. Riders. At least four of them coming hard from the south. "Expecting company?"
Wyatt asked. Harlo smiled and it was the ugliest thing Wyatt had ever seen. "Insurance." "You didn't think I'd come out here with just five men, did you?" I got friends and they're about 2 minutes away.
Wyatt cursed under his breath. Four more men meant seven total. Even with surprise on their side, those were suicide odds. "What do we do?" Ayla asked.
Wyatt's mind raced. They couldn't fight, couldn't run. Not with the horses still in the corral. They had seconds to make a decision that would determine whether they lived or died. "Inside," he said.