When she arrived at Caleb’s spot, he was lying on his belly, trying to suppress a laugh that obviously hurt. The back of his jeans was wet with blood, but it didn’t look that bad. The cuts and bruises on his face looked worse.

“What are you two laughing at?”

Luke grinned. “I told him that from now on, he’s going to be a double asshole.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CALEB’S WOUND TURNED OUT TO BE MORE OF A STRIPE THAN A hole. The bullet had cut across his right butt cheek, carving out about a quarter inch of flesh, but little muscle. From there, it had traveled over his left leg before blasting out a chunk of the heel of his left shoe.

“Luke, put pressure on the wound,” Victoria instructed.

“I’m not touching his ass.”

“Damn right, you’re not,” Caleb said. “Give me a dressing. I’ll do it myself.”

Victoria left them with the trauma kit and then ventured out to join Ty and Mike. “They’re all dead,” Mike reported. “Nobody can say the Emersons can’t shoot straight.”

Victoria wasn’t sure how good a compliment that actually was.

“And, uh, listen,” Mike went on. “About freezing back there.”

Victoria continued to scan the woods for movement.

“I’m sorry we stayed hidden.”

“I’m sure you are,” Victoria said. She wasn’t about to absolve them of their cowardice. The only way to change that kind of behavior was to correct it. All she knew was that if another fight came their way—and she was certain that it would—she didn’t want those two anywhere near her.

“How many bodies did you count?” Victoria asked.

Ty said, “Five.” He hadn’t even offered to apologize.

“That’s not enough,” she said.

“Some of them must have run,” Mike said.

That meant some were still out there. This fight was going to happen again. The smart move, Victoria knew, would be to keep pressing the fight, to end it for good.

But she had her family to worry about. Caleb needed to get to a doctor. Even if the wound itself wasn’t serious, infection was a concern. Even with her naked eye, she could see bits of fabric embedded in his wound.

“Dammit,” she said. “Let’s get Caleb back to town. Let Doc Rory take a look.”

* * *

Caleb refused to let himself be carried, though he did let Luke carry his rifle, which, according to Ty Rowley, was a Ruger Mini-14. It fired the same rounds and took the same magazines as his AR15, but looked way cooler. It was heavy, though. It didn’t take long for Luke to start bitching about having to carry the extra weight.