Chapter Thirty-Six

Ance slipped back over the crumbled wall and took cover behind a post when he realized that Irish, Barnaby and seven other men had come outside.

"We've taken your potion, Irishmen, now we're gonna test our aim," one of the men stated as he pulled his revolver and nearly dropped it when he stumbled sideways.

Drunk. Ance realized each and every one of these men were dog drunk and flying high on Irish's elixir--all of them except Barnaby and Irish. Of course Irish hadn't sampled his own concoction and Barnaby had clearly thought better of it as well. Could Ance murder a bunch of men who were clearly out of their heads and would barely be able to fight back?

Hell yes he could and a bit easier than if they were sober.

"Ya want to test your aim, then?" Irish asked. He grabbed the hat off a man who's face was quickly becoming a nice shade of green. "I'll toss this hat up in the air and we'll see just how many times ya can hit it before it falls back to the dirt."

Ance watched Irish throw the hat followed by the man failing miserably to hit it. Ance remained out of sight and attempted to think of the best way to go about taking out these men. As he'd told Irish before, he wasn't much of a planner.. Ance tended to simply go in, guns blazing, and hope things went in his favor--he had learned he couldn't live that way any longer.

Ance now had a woman and child to think of.

Ance's planning was interrupted when one of the men, a skinny, dirty bastard named Gus, broke away from the distracted group of men all attempting to shoot the hat full of holes, and headed toward the back of the main building and toward the cellar doors.

He had a leering grin on his face and his tiny eyes kept darting to Barnaby who seemed unaware that the man had left and instead was watching the other men with amusement. Ance had a feeling he knew where Gus was going and why... Rage boiled within him.

Silently Ance slipped behind the man and followed him down the cellar steps and directly to the door of the room Audrey had been kept in. Gus adjusted his pecker in his pants and grinned as he reached for the door. Ance growled, pulled his knife and slid up behind him.

Gus stiffened when the blade pressed against his dirty neck. "She ain't here anymore," Ance stated, pressing his lips close to Gus's ear and keeping his voice at a low, angry growl.

"Wh...who aint?" Gus stammered, his hand reaching for his gun until Ance's knife tightened against his trembling throat and he thought better of it.

"The woman you came down here to see," Ance growled. "My woman."

"Y..your woman?" Gus feigned innocence as his voice raised several octaves. "I didn't know she was your woman.. Why I was just coming down here to free her, Ance. I swears that to ya."

Ance chuckled but there was not an ounce of good humor in the sound. "I'm sure." Without bothering to hear anything else Gus had to say, because Ance knew good and well what the bastard's true intentions had been in sneaking down to the cellars, Ance slid his knife across his throat and dropped his limp body to the ground as his blood pooled around him.

Now it was only Barnaby and six men left. Ance liked those damn odds.

He slipped back up the stairs and reached the top just in time to hear Barnaby call an end to the gunshots and target practice. "Where the hell is Cayhill?" he demanded. "I told the man to keep watch."

"Boss, I ain't seen Waylon neither," another man spoke up. "He never did show up for supper."

"Okay, Irishman, as entertaining as I've found your constant chatter and nonsense, I think you might be up to something." Barnaby's voice was angry and threatening.

"I'm up to nothin' at all," Irish insisted.

Ance quickened his pace, knowing that Irish was in trouble. "Damn you! Don't lie to me. Who'd you bring with you?" Barnaby bellowed.

"I didn't bring a soul ya fat bastard," Irish snapped and Ance thought it sounded as if he were struggling, probably being held in place.

"If I kill you I'm sure your partner would make himself known," Barnaby growled and Ance heard the sound of the shot just as he rounded the building.

His gut clenched when he saw Irish fall facedown in the dirt. Ance paused, hoping the Irishman would move but he remained still and silent. Rage flowed to life inside Ance's veins. Irish was the only damn friend Ance had in the world and this fat bastard might have just killed him--when combined with all the other wrongs Barnaby had committed toward Ance lately, the man was just begging to die...

And Ance was going to grant his wish.

With a roar, he pulled his gun from his holster. There were seven men and he had six shots in his revolver before he'd have to pull his derringer or find cover to reload.

Ance could hear nothing other than his blood rushing through his ears as he took aim at one of Barnaby's men and squeezed the trigger. The evening air was shattered by the sound of bullets and screams of pain. Ance felt the fiery sear of bullets striking his own flesh but somehow it was almost as if his rage kept him removed from it as he focused on only one thing--killing.

It wasn't until Ance was standing there staring Barnaby down with bodies littering the dirt around them and an empty gun in his hand, that Ance realized he might just die himself today. Barnaby's gun was still loaded and the bastard had it aimed at him.

Ance had never seen Barnaby look so angry. His white mustache blew wildly as his heaving breaths whooshed out his nose. His face was red, his eyes narrowed and his large belly rose and fell rapidly with his panting. Ance dropped his gun and slowly pulled his knife, which was still sticky with the blood of the men he'd already killed today.

"Ansel Adams... I never thought I'd see the day that we'd be enemies," Barnaby hissed.

Ance shrugged. "I never did care much for you, Barnaby. I just liked your money."

"And now?" Barnaby demanded. "What is so different now? Why did you steal that girl from me? You made a laughing stock out of me, Ance! Those savages had been expecting her and you damn near got me scalped when they realized I didn't have their shipment!"

"Damn near, huh?" Ance replied.

Barnaby scratched at his head with his free hand. "Yes, damn near."

"That's a shame," Ance growled.

He had no idea if he could throw his knife quickly enough to avoid a fatal shot from Barnaby's gun. He could feel blood soaking through his shirt and pants leg as he stood with his weight on one leg. He was already injured and that would slow him some...

He readied himself for the possibility that this might be the end. At least he knew Audrey would be safe. She had a horse, food, water and was smart enough to find her way back to civilization. She would ask around and learn just where Irish's mother was and in doing so she'd find Penelope. Audrey was no helpless damsel and for that Ance was damned grateful. He just had to be sure he killed Barnaby at the same time as Barnaby killed him so she would have one less monster to contend with.

Ance let out his breath slowly and flicked his wrist just as the sound of three gun blasts rocketed through the encroaching darkness.

Ance hissed when Barnaby's bullet sliced through the side of his arm, grazing him and taking a good chunk of skin as it went. Ance's knife flew true and sank itself deep in Barnaby's chest as Barnaby stumbled forward and stuttered in shock several times, blood dripping from between his pale lips.

Who had fired those other two shots?

Looking behind Barnaby, Ance saw Irish laying on his side with his revolver resting against his stomach and, looking past Irish, Ance saw Audrey leaning against the wall with one of the dead men's revolvers in her hand.

As Barnaby fell to the ground, Ance ignored the pain in his leg and rushed to her, stepping over Irish who was muttering under his breath. Ance reached Audrey and simply wrapped her up in his arms. He pulled her strong and yet beautifully feminine body against his and simply breathed her in.

"Damn you, lady... I told you to stay," he managed to grumble only because he knew that grumbling would be expected.

"I don't think so, outlaw. When you love someone you don't let them rush off to danger without doing everything you can to keep them safe."

Ance dragged his head from her neck and looked down at her with a mixture of fear and shock. She had just admitted that she loved him.. Did he love her back? Hell yeah he did.. But could he give her what she wanted? He still didn't know...

Audrey's brown eyes were soft and knowing as she raised a hand and gently buried her fingers in the beard of his scarred cheek. "You don't have to say anything, Ance," she promised.

She pulled out his arms, though he noticed she didn't move away from the support of the wall beside her. Audrey's eyes widened when she saw the bullet wound on his side and the second on his leg. "You're hurt!" she exclaimed.

"Not too bad," Ance promised. "Flesh wounds is all they really are," he winked. "And I happen to know a lady that's real good at sewing those up."

Audrey blanched before swallowing hard. "Oh goodie."

"Earth to the lovebirds," Irish called out from the dirt. "Do any of ya mind comin' and helpin' me up? I got shot too, ya know. And a bit worse than that oak tree sized bastard ya keep lovin' on, Audrey. I could use a wee bit of lovin' myself. If it weren't for my help those lads would have been sober enough to hit what they were aimin' at a bit better then what they did."

Ance let his fingertips trail down Audrey's face before turning his attention to Irish. He limped to his friend and looked down at the bloody hole in his side. "You'll be fine, Irish."

"Ya need some work on your bedside manner," Irish grumped as Ance moved away from him and picked up his discarded revolver. He refilled the cylinder and walked to one of the men on the ground. Taking aim at his face, Ance pulled the trigger.

"What are you doing?!" Audrey demanded.

Ance shrugged. "Making sure they're dead. I won't risk someone coming by, rescuing one or more of these bastards and having them come back for vengeance."

Ance could hear Audrey muttering under her breath but he ignored it as he went to each man and ensured they were finished off. When he had finished, Audrey and Irish were both waiting for him at the cart. Ance reattached Irish's horses before mounting his mare, which Audrey had ridden to the fort.

"Let's get the hell out of here before these lads begin to give off a less than pleasant odor.. Or at least more unpleasant than their natural smell anyhow," Irish stated.

"We'll ride for a few hours and then make camp. Audrey here is pretty good at taking care of bullet wounds and she'll see we're sewed up proper." Ance informed him.

Audrey didn't respond. She simply folded her arms over her stomach and stared straight ahead with a far off look in her brown eyes. Ance worried about her but knew nothing could be done now. She was clearly bothered by what had happened during her time here and bothered by what he'd done when he'd shot those men a second time.

Ance supposed he didn't care if she was mad. He'd rather her be mad and alive than happy and shot in the back. With a sigh, and knowing they'd have to talk later, Ance led his companions out of the fort and away from the carnage they'd left behind them.

A/N: I hope y'all enjoyed the chapter! We're nearing the end of our tale but there's still a few loose ends to tie up! I hope y'all plan on staying 'til the end ;)