He never had time to. The second and third shots flashed from the dark, the semiautomatic. It was done. Dan’s neck spouted red. Dan stood the shot well then dropped to his knees, then dropped forward, his arms catching his fall, since this new Dan would not fall on his face. His arms gave out and slid, fingers tunneling the muddy snow. More blood had splattered Ella’s stunned face. She roused herself. She frisked Saul’s hips for a gun as, from the darkness, she heard Bowman’s uneven footsteps coming. He never arrived. She heard the sound of cracking as someone smashed him with wood on bone. Next the clatter of steel to stone. The Ruger had fallen. Bowman grunted. The Indian Spy had intervened in their lives again.

The horses and mules were upset for a while. Then they settled.

She lived alone in the room of light and fog now. The snow was nearly boiled away. She lay down to curl into Saul. He was still very warm, always a furnace of a man.

Then she sat up.

“Bowman!” she called. “Bowman! Bowman!”