Blood Wedding

By that time, Murray’s men were running in six or eight directions, having no idea what had just happened. They’d been asleep and the house had exploded around them. They might have thought it was the end of the world, or they might have thought the house had been struck by a cannonball. Or maybe they were just running and not thinking at all.

Whatever the case may have been, they certainly weren’t expecting the farmers to ride out of the trees and start shooting at them.

Most of Murray’s men were the kind to sleep with their weapons right at hand, so they were armed, and they had the presence of mind to drop down to the ground and start shooting back. A few others made a mad dash for their horses, maybe in the hope that they could get away before they were killed. A couple just stood there, looking around as if they were dazed, and maybe they were. Those were the first to be cut down by the farmers’ fire.

Fargo looked for Murray, but he didn’t see him amid all the confusion. He did see Angel as she rode past him, looking neither to the right nor to the left. She was focused on someone, and Fargo knew it must be Murray. Scrambling to his feet, Fargo ran back into the trees to get his horse.

Within seconds he was aboard the Ovaro and riding in the direction Angel had gone. He rode right through the middle of the fighting and got a kaleidoscopic view of what was happening all around him.

To his left, Molly was off her horse and fighting hand to hand with two men, her hair wild as she smashed one of them to the ground with her right fist and grabbed the other around the neck with her free left hand. Abby was running toward the man that Molly was grappling with. She jumped on his back as Fargo passed on.

To the right, Lem was sitting on his horse and firing his pistol steadily. The flashes from its barrel were like red and orange streaks in the night. Tabor and Elliot were beside Lem, matching him shot for shot, and Murray’s men, though they were firing back, were the ones getting the worst of it.

Then Fargo was through the crowd and alone, with Angel racing ahead of him and Murray in front of her.

After only a few more seconds, Murray turned back toward the trees, and his dark figure was soon lost in them. It was one thing to ride at speed across open ground. It was something else to do it among trees. In fact, it was impossible, and Fargo knew that Murray must have swerved into them because he had something in mind, maybe some trap he could spring on Angel. Fargo urged the Ovaro to go faster, hoping to reach Angel before she did anything foolish.

He was too late. She rode into the trees after her father.

It was dark in the trees, but they grew far enough apart for Fargo to maneuver the Ovaro through them. He could hear, but not see, Angel up ahead of him. Before she got to the creek, she turned aside, which meant that Murray was also sticking to the trees. Fargo didn’t blame him. You couldn’t ride fast, but you could ride, and there wasn’t much danger of anybody shooting you with all the branches in the way. It didn’t take much to turn a bullet aside.

Fargo drew the pistol he was wearing on the off chance that he’d get a shot at Murray. It wasn’t his Colt, which had disappeared the night he fell from the horse and Murray had hauled him to the cave. But it was a good enough gun. He’d borrowed it from Molly, who was the only person around with more than one pistol. Farmers didn’t generally go around armed. Fargo had shot the pistol a couple of times after borrowing it to get a feel for it, and it had done a good job against Rip. He thought it would do just as well when he had to use it on Murray.

He rode along for a minute or two, hoping to overtake Angel but not succeeding. Then up ahead he heard a horse whinny and someone screamed.

Angel.

Fargo couldn’t go any faster. Limbs were already whipping him across the face, and he didn’t want to damage his eyes. He hoped Murray hadn’t killed Angel, but he wouldn’t put it past him.

Before long, Fargo spotted Angel’s horse standing calmly near a tree. Angel was lying on the ground. She wasn’t moving. Fargo reined in the Ovaro and got down to see if she was just hurt or if she was dead.

She wasn’t dead, and she wasn’t hurt, except for some bruises. And she was angry.

“He waited for me,” she told Fargo. “He hid behind that big tree over there and pulled back a limb. When I rode up, he let it go. It hit me square in the face and scared my horse, but I think I’m all right.”

“At least he didn’t try to kill you again,” Fargo said. “Give him credit for that.”

“He knew the horse would throw me. He thought I’d break my neck.” Angel brushed leaves and dirt off her clothes, wincing only a little, and got back on her horse. “But it didn’t work, and now I’m going to get him.”

“He might be long gone by now.”

“I don’t think so. Where’s he going to go?”

Fargo said he didn’t know, but then he had an idea.