Free Caine's Reckoning by Sarah McCarty

dropped over his torso. She followed the line of buttons on his vest until she came to the waistband of his fancy black broadcloth pants. From there it was only a matter of two more inches before she reached her destination. There. Right there was where she wanted the first shot to go.
    James swore and backed up, stumbling over his own feet. With Caine’s help, she kept the rifle trained as he landed on his butt in the mud. The sheriff grabbed for his revolver, but before he got it clear of his holster, she squeezed the trigger, keeping her eyes on the target, wanting to see the bullet hit. Wanting the satisfaction.
    At the last second, the gun tilted down and there was an explosion of mud that sprayed between James’s feet. While she stared, not understanding, Caine removed the gun from her hands.
    “Guess that answers my question.”
    But it didn’t answer hers. She wanted the gun back in her hands. She wanted one second more. She wanted James dead. She stared at the gloves overwhelming her hands and felt Caine all around her. Another man using her to get what he wanted. “Why did you stop me?”
    The quaver in her voice was barely perceptible but Caine heard it. Desi had a belly full of anger and no outlet. He tipped her face up. The pain and rage in her eyes ate at his gut. “I figure you’ve got enough scars, you don’t need the kind killing a man can bring.”
    “I wouldn’t mind.”
    He released her chin and moved the rifle out of her reach, aiming it at the men rushing up from the edge of town. “I would.”
    He squeezed with his right knee and Chaser turned into the oncoming crowd. “You best be telling those men to holster their guns, Sheriff, or this town’s going to be short some of its important citizens.”
    “You can’t just come in here and start shooting people, Allen.”
    “Unless you’re going to stop me,” he told the older man, “I can pretty much do whatever the hell I want.”
    And what he wanted right now was justice.
    “He’s got a point,” Tracker drawled, a revolver in each hand, his horse tossing its head as the tension built. “We just start shooting up towns whenever we get the urge, eventually someone’s going to slap up a wanted poster with our pictures on it.”
    “Not that I particularly mind,” Sam added, his new revolver in one hand and a shotgun in the other. “Hell, we’ve skirted the wrong side of legal all our lives, but you know damn well they aren’t going to do our handsome faces justice on those damn posters and that would pain me.”
    “What would you suggest?”
    “We should just take the girl and leave.”
    Caine pretended to consider the suggestion as the sheriff—as crooked a son of a bitch as Caine had ever seen—settled his weight into his boots with misplaced confidence. “There are ten of us here and only three of you, son. I think you’d better settle down.”
    Caine had no intention of settling down. A short, stocky figure in brown robes pushed through the crowd. Caine bumped Desi’s butt with his thigh to get her attention. “Desi, I want you to slide on down now and go stand with Father Gerard.”
    He didn’t want her anywhere near him if shooting commenced. He held her wrists as her feet touched the ground, stretching her back, forcing her to look at him. At the base of her throat, where the coat parted, he could see her pulse pounding. She was afraid but game. A woman a man could depend on.
    “No running. Not this time.” He held her gaze, trusting Tracker and Sam to guard his back. She finally nodded. “Give me your word.” A flare of surprise crossed her face, and then that chin set and she gave a short nod.
    “Good.” He let her go. She limped over to Father Gerard, her steps awkward due to the way he’d tied the moccasins and the cuts on her feet. As soon as she reached the priest, he put his arms around her. She held up her hands. The older man went to work on the knots. Across the small distance her triumph was