I wasn't much of an account for anything, but I did pride myself on loyalty. Jinx had done plenty for me, a sight more than I'd ever had any right to expect or ask. Now that he lay bleeding, dying, it was time to step up and give a little back.

"Jinx," my murmur brought his eyes to mine, and I signaled around the far side of the stable, toward the cabin. "You okay while I go hunting?"

A smile curled the edges of his mouth, green eyes sparking fire.

"I'll cover you."

"Don't be late for dinner," humor kept my anxiety down, and he saw it.

"Ring the bell. I'll come runnin'."

Slipping quietly toward the back of the stable, I peered cautiously around the corner. There was no one there so tiptoeing along the wall, staying low, I hugged the stone so as not to throw a shadow. Brody's voice was clearer as I reached the far corner. Shrinking against the cool stone, I slowed my breathing, telling myself to be calm. Knowing the layout of my home so well, I knew Brody was most likely in one spot.

On the porch, just behind the railing post where he'd have a good line of sight from the stable and the trees. With no way to get around the corner unseen I hesitated, pondering what to do. The possibility of taking another bullet wasn't appealing. I think one was enough for my lifetime, but what was I to do? Jinx would die without help, or he'd take a less forgiving bullet.

The more I thought on it, though, the madder I got. Why were people always bringing their troubles to my door? I lived quietly, trying to be a friend to all, wanting only to be left in peace. Yet, how many graves were on The Hill? When would it stop?

Finger on the trigger, my left hand under the barrel, I eased to my feet, steadying myself for what I was about to do. He stepped into sight just as I did, but for an instant Brody didn't see me. His eyes were intent on where Jinx lay concealed. Movement caught his eyes, but too late. The rifle bucked against my shoulder, spouting fire as it roared.

A red blossom spattered across Brody's chest, sending him reeling backward. His face paled, dark brown eyes bulging as he realized he was dying. Pulling back the hammer, I took a wary step forward, watching as he sank to his knees before slowly crumpling forward. Folding like a ragdoll, he hit the grass and lay still.

Waiting, watching, when his legs spasmed, his boot toe digging into the grass before going limp, I lowered my rifle. Going to him, kicking his gun out of reach, I hurriedly knelt, feeling for his pulse. Nothing.

"I got him, Jinx!" He didn't answer, so I called again. "Jinx? Can you hear me?"

In sudden fear I ran to the stable, skidding to a stop in horror. He still lay there, but never to move again. Propped against the stable wall, three long arrows jutted from his chest, blood everywhere. I didn't have time to grieve or think. The instinct to survive spurred my actions. Grabbing his arm, I ran for the cabin door, dragging his heavy body behind me.

Crow warriors rose from the ground armed with rifles and bows. Bullets spattered around me, screaming off the stone walls as I threw myself at the entrance, crashing through. An arrow hit the floor near my head with a solid thunk, the shaft quivering from the force. Heart pounding, pushing Jinx's body away from me I kicked the hardwood door closed, hearing the bite of lead hit the Brazilian Teak.

Scrambling to my knees I dropped the bar in place behind the door then backed away, staying low to the floor. Shaken, mouth dry, heart racing, I didn't know what to do at first. Where had they come from? How long had they been sitting quiet, waiting for their chance? Eyes flicking to the body of my friend, the first wave of anger hit me, clearing away some of the haze.

Nostrils flaring, I made my way to the window, risking a glance outside without moving the curtain. Seven braves slipped around the yard like silent wraiths. Was that all of them? Raiding parties were not normally more than a handful of men.

It had to have been the sight of all the horses and guns coming into the valley that lured them here. To any warrior, the prospect of such a boon would be irresistible. Such prizes would bring great bragging rights among his people. A brief stab of guilt hit me regarding the two men I'd left tied and defenseless, but it faded.

To be a party to trouble had been their decision. They would have died sooner or later, the manner of death hastened only by circumstance.

Counting how many bullets I had left made me bite my lip. Staying low I ran to the pantry, pulling out four boxes to carry them back to the table. Kneeling on the floor I loaded the rifle with the new shells, emptying the boxes into my pockets. As armed as I could be, I crawled to a rifle hole in the wall, cautiously peering out.

From where I was, I could see Brody's outstretched arm. It was moving. A Crow brave was likely stripping the body and taking the weapons. It made me sick, but there was nothing I could do about it. Or was there?

Carefully moving into the bedroom next to mine, I slid along the floor to a nearby loophole, just below the window. It offered a good view of the yard. The Indian was still there, his knife flashing as he began mutilating Brody's body. It was their belief that to do so to an enemy would strip him of his power should they meet in the afterlife.

I was no friend of Shane Brody, caring nothing for him, but I raged at the disrespect shown to a dead man. Sliding the rifle barrel into the hole I took careful aim, my finger gently pulling in the slack on the trigger. The thunder inside the room was loud, gun powder strong in my nose. That brave though, he reacted like he'd been stung.

Leaping to his feet, he managed three running steps before staggering, then collapsed in the grass, crawling toward cover. Instantly a torrent of bullets shattered through the window, screaming off the walls as they ricocheted around the room. I flattened myself to the floor, stiff. Without a target, they quickly gave up shooting. I instantly scrambled back into the main room, positioning myself where I could see the corral and the stable.

They offered the most concealment and that's where I figured to see the any movement. Seeing it was Indians I was up against, I cautioned myself that it would be along wait. Long minutes lengthened into hours as the sun rose higher in the sky. Nothing moved. Sporadically I would catch a glimpse of a shadow, the barest flicker, but nothing presented itself as a target.

Carefully, I avoided looking at Jinx's body. It wasn't the man I'd known, not anymore, but I couldn't take time to grieve. Not right now.

Getting hungry I crawled over to the cellar, slipping down for some jerked venison. Filling a cup from the clay water vessel that I kept in the kitchen, I moved back to my chosen post. Nothing seemed to have changed. Eyes busy, letting my gaze start at the farthest end of the yard, I scanned every inch until I had studied every blade of grass leading to the door.

Slowly chewing on the jerky, I let it stay between my teeth for a long while before swallowing. They knew I was alone now; I had no doubt about that. With only so much ammunition and food, they had me fairly trapped. Numbers were on their side, and they could afford to wait me out. My only hope lay in killing as many as I could.

Braves would not continue a fight they were on the losing side of. Unable to afford such loses to their village, they would pull out, disappearing silently into the land.

It was cool inside the cabin, and I grew comfortable. Too comfortable I realized suddenly, blinking. When had the shadows changed? The sun was farther along in the sky and I panicked. How could I have fallen asleep, even for a second?

Shifting to another loophole, the loud bark of a rifle shattered the glass behind me. Flattening to the floor, I heard a slug scream off the stone wall where I had just been.

Jerking around I brought the rifle up and fired three rapid shots back through the window. A deep grunt told me at least one met flesh, catching a glimpse of the brave as he dropped below the sill. I knew better than to go see. A downed Indian was not a dead Indian. Silently easing off my shoes, I crept toward the back wall. Choosing one of the two loops, I hoped to pick the one farthest from the brave.

Slowly, I searched the area with my limited view. It wasn't too long before I saw movement just shy of where I was looking. Lifting the rifle, I kept the barrel tip inside the house, not wanting him to see it and figure what I was up to. The next twenty minutes felt like hours.

Then I saw it. Dusky brown skin came into view, and I drew bead on it, breathing lightly. More skin appeared, then the tanned leather of his leggings. With a jolt of alarm, I realized I was looking at his waist. That sly Indian was already on his feet!

Squeezing the trigger, my eyes watered from the belch of gunpowder. The Indian leaped away, before staggering to one knee, slowly folding into the grass. He didn't look to be getting up again, not with that big red hole in his side. From how he lay, I could see he wasn't dead, but he would be soon enough. Moving back to the front wall, I slowly peeked through the window at the front yard.

Nothing. Everything was still, silent, but it wasn't an empty silence. I knew they were out there, waiting, watching. Taking advantage of the stillness, I thumbed cartridges into the empty chambers. With the gunshots, they'd be mighty curious about what had happened, and probably sneak in for a look. That thought snapped me rigid. They would come get his body!

Cursing myself for a fool I almost ran back to the other loop, settling down at watch. How many times had I fought with the Crow? Wasn't I well aware that they did not leave their fallen behind if they could help it? Stupid mistake! The brave was still there, out in full sun, his arms outstretched. His rifle was right where- no! The rifle was gone!

Disliking that, I scowled, thinking. Why'd they take the rifle and not the body? It didn't make sense, and I had no liking for things that didn't make sense. It could get me killed. Settling my shoulder against the wood, keeping my eyes moving, I waited.

The Crow was still breathing. I watched him gasp, struggling for breath before he just stopped. A twinge of pity went through me, for I had no desire to kill anyone, but neither would I sacrifice myself just to appease them. It got me to wondering if this struggle of life and death would always exist, if this was all life was about. Depressed by the thought, I chose to push it away, focusing solely on staying alive.

More time trickled by as my muscles stiffened, aching, but I didn't move, didn't take my eyes off the yard. They would come, sooner or later, and I would be ready. Sweat dripped down my back and beneath my arms as the sun pierced the place I was sitting. My lungs strained in the stifling heat. Then I saw it, the slightest shifting of leaves.

Sliding my finger around the trigger I waited, watching. Then the dead Indian's arm began to move, almost on its own. Incredibly, his body began to inch across the grass into the low brush that framed the back of the cabin. With nothing to shoot at I grew frustrated, knowing my chances were slipping away. Right then, the loud bark of a rifle from the front of the cabin whipped me around.

Instantly pandemonium broke loose. The Indian who'd been in hiding moved fast. It got my attention. Drawing bead, I let loose with two quick shots. Shifting a little I triggered off two more just in front of where I'd shot first.

The leaves crashed and waved before Indian toppled into view, gasping weakly. Of the four bullets, one managed to hit a lung. He was bleeding out. Staying where I was, I reloaded the spent chambers, keeping an eye on the dying Crow.

I felt no pity, knowing if positions were reversed, he'd feel none for me. His eyes glazed, lips going slack, and I knew he was dead. Getting up, grimacing at the cramp in my leg, I moved cautiously toward the front door. It had gotten quiet out there, and I needed to know what happened.

Looking from every window, every angle, gave me a partial story. An Indian lay in the yard, a great hole in his chest. Another was folded over the corral post, blood dripping from his limp fingers. Nothing else stirred but I was suspicious. What had happened out here, who started the shooting?

Easing to the door, I cracked it open, peering warily around, finger hovering near the trigger. A moving shadow whirled me around, my rifle barrel lining up dead to center with the third scuffed button on a faded blue shirt. Blinking in surprise, I gasped in recognition. It was the man I'd hit with my rifle stock.

*a moment of silence for Jinx* :'(