"Get those mules in here!" He shouted at Pete, and ran toward Cassie. "Get down!"
She dropped to the sand as a hail of bullets whistled above her head. Numbly, she rolled over to a pile of grain sacks they had put up as a barricade. It was actually happening. The Indians were attacking them.
An Indian on a painted horse leaped through the opening. Oblivious to her frozen stare, his black eyes fixed on Bordeaux as he dashed for cover. His back to the danger, Bordeaux was unaware when the Indian lifted his hatchet for the kill. Cassie opened her mouth to warn him, but no sound came out. She lifted her rifle and frantically cocked it. The barrel waved unsteadily on the chest of the Indian as he closed in on Bordeaux. Suddenly she was calm. She took careful aim and squeezed off a shot.
The body fell from the horse at Bordeaux's feet, but he barely noticed as he plunged to the sand on his chest. He fired at another figure trying to force its way into the circle. The space inside the wagons was a din of screaming mules and men. The air was filled with the smell of sulfur and the sound of gunfire.
Cassie squinted into the darkness, searching for a target, but all she could see was dust and an occasional hoof. The rifle fire abated and the ground shook with the drumming of hooves. The Indians were stealing the mules left outside the wagons. She glanced around, counting mules. Fourteen left - two of those wounded. Barely enough for two wagons.
Her gaze stopped on the dead Indian and her stomach lurched. She had killed a human being. It didn't matter that she had no choice, the outcome was the same. She dropped her rifle and cupped a hand over her mouth as a rush of sour tasting liquid scalded her throat. She fell to her knees, retching.
Gentle hands lifted her from the ground, and she buried her face in Bordeaux's chest, sobbing. He held her without speaking, probably sensing there was little he could say to make her feel better. Yet his presence reminded her that he was alive because she had taken another life. It meant everything, but it didn't erase the ugly feeling.
She lifted her head and wiped the tears from her eyes. This was exactly why they didn't want a woman along. The men weren't bawling.
"I'm alright," she said, moving away from Bordeaux.
He said nothing. There was nothing to say.
It was a grim lot that gathered for supper that night outside the ring of firelight. Two mules had to be shot. That left only a dozen mules and the bay. Even the spare horses had been lost in the raid.