He heard the sound of voices, the unmistakeable packing up of belongings, the neighing of horses and finally, after much movement, the steady trundling of wagon wheels. Throughout it all, Reece dared not move. Perhaps, if his g*n was to hand, he may have attempted a few measured shots, but he doubted it. He"d witnessed Martindale being shot dead with frightening ease by the unknown gunman. Apart from this, he knew the priest had taken his guns, both revolver and rifle. Bullets, too. There was nothing to do except listen, wait, and remain still.
As the wagon creaked and groaned off into the distance, he chanced a look through one eye and saw them – two women on the buckboard, steering the open wagon, and three riders alongside. The tall stranger, the massive bulk of Merry, and another woma
