"Everyone okay?" I said in a louder voice.

"Okay here," announced Emil. I looked around. He was hiding behind a substantial rock with one of the locals. I could see the other local behind a crumbling house foundation. I couldn't see Mario.

"How about you, Mario?"

"I'm okay." I couldn't see him, but he was close by.

"I have an idea," I said. "Why don't you take a walk down the road. Then we can see where the shots are coming from."

"Fuck you."

"Just an idea."

"Nice that you can maintain your sense of humor," whispered Sabrina.

"Are you kidding? I'm scared to death. It's either that or I faint from fear. Besides, who said I was joking?"

Another shot came and hit the dirt in front of the wagon, pebbles exploding in my face. I reached up and, one by one, lifted down a few of the gold bars and stacked them in front of us under the wagon.

"Just a little extra protection," I explained.

Sabrina just nodded. She was busy trying to extract her revolver from her pants. Finally free, she checked to see that it was loaded.

"Good idea," I said, and grabbed my own. After all this time, I still wasn't used to it. We were in a bad spot and I wasn't sure how much help it was going to be, but it provided a little comfort.

Another shot, followed immediately by the roar of Emil's shotgun. I heard a scream from across the road.

"You got one," I exclaimed.

"I'm sure I just winged him," said Emil. "I think I'm too far for the shotgun to be very effective."

It wasn't. The shooter, angry now, let out a barrage of bullets from his automatic weapon toward Emil's hiding place. I could see Emil crouched behind the rock, covering his face. Sabrina nudged me and pointed. Five feet behind us was a ditch on the side of the road. It would offer much more protection than the wagon. I nodded. She counted down on her fingers from three. As she hit 'one', we rolled. As we rolled, two other shooters began their assault, the ground exploding around us.. We fell into the ditch and I asked Sabrina if she was okay.

"I am. You?"

"Yes." Not the total truth. I was bleeding from my upper arm and it hurt like the devil. I was either grazed by a bullet or by a rock kicked up by a bullet. I knew there wasn't a slug in me, but it didn't stop it from hurting.

The rain of bullets stopped.

"Give it up," called out a voice directly across the road from us, somewhere in the trees.

Well, that put to rest one theory. There was nothing Russian about that voice. It was as American as mine.

We all stayed silent. I looked back at Emil. He looked okay, but he must've been wondering at that point why in the world he got involved with us.