As if to prove Luke’s point, a burst from someplace in the forest stitched up the ground between Caleb and Luke and sheared a skinny limb from the tree over Caleb’s head. He picked up his pace. Now that he was close, getting there seemed more important than being invisible.

Caleb found Ty Rowley, Mike Underwood and Luke hunkered in a swale that gave a fair measure of cover. Mike was bleeding profusely from a belly wound. “Oh, shit.”

“That’s the exit wound,” Luke said. “He was shot from behind.”

“Get his shirt off,” Caleb said to Ty. “Mike, can you hear me?”

“It hurts.”

Suddenly Caleb felt a little embarrassed about his ass wound.

Mike moaned as Ty wrestled him out of his jacket and shirt. As the wound was exposed, Caleb saw that it was bad, but it could have been worse. The exit hole was round, a clue that the bullet hadn’t tumbled as it passed through his belly. It was a big bleeder, but it was probably survivable if they got him medical attention. Well, it would have been survivable before. Who knew anymore?

Caleb helped himself to the rifle that Mike had dropped. “You had spare magazines. Where are they?” Before the man had a chance to answer, Caleb saw them stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.

“Luke, you know what to do. Stuff his shirt into the bullet holes. Stop the bleeding and then get them back to town.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Luke said. “Mom’s in trouble.”

Caleb knew he should argue, but he also knew that they could use the additional firepower.

“Take Ty’s rifle,” he said.

Ty objected. “Hey, I might need that.”

“No, you won’t,” Caleb countered. “You’ll be carrying Mike out of here.”

Luke pointed down the hill, away from the shooting. “Go that way. Follow the blazes and you’ll find your truck.”

“I know the way,” Ty said. “I’ve lived here a hell of a lot longer than you have.”

Caleb was done with them. He had his own stuff that he had to take care of. “You ready, Luke?”

“Not really.”

“Good. Neither am I.” He winked, then climbed on his belly out of the swale.

* * *

Victoria couldn’t see a target to shoot. The gang was hanging way back in the trees, too far away to fire at muzzle flashes. Too many obstructions between here and there to hit anything, and she’d burned through all the ammunition she could afford to waste on covering fire. One way or another, this fight was ending for good, right here and right now.

She told herself that her boys would be okay. They’d find their way back to the El Camino, and from there, on to safety. As long as she kept the pressure on the Grubbs gang, they’d lose interest in the others. She was sure of it.