Lawman from Nogales (9781101544747) by Ralph W. Cotton Page A

herself. She heard a wolf growl; she felt its fangs tug powerfully at her shoe heel, but then release her and turned growling toward three more wolves that had bunched up around it.
    Above the terrible feast going on in the swirl of dust, and above the horse’s dying screams, Erin heard the wolf at her heels growling and scratching at the dirt, seeking entrance to what questionable refuge she’d found for herself.
    â€œDamn you to bloody hell !” she raged, wiggling around until she could point the Starr down her thigh and cock it toward the snarling predator at her heels. “Get away! Eat the horse!”
    She pulled the trigger, heard the explosion and felt the burn of powder down the side of her calf. At her heels, the wolf let out a loud yelp as the bullet scraped the ground past it and showered its flews with a blast of fiery powder and sharp particles of rock and dirt.
    No sooner had she heard the sound of paws running away from behind her than she heard insistent whining and scratching in front of her, just above her face. She felt loose dirt fall down on her from between the boulders. She saw a probing paw break through the dirt and dig feverishly toward her face. She pulled back as far as she could from it without backing out and exposing her heels to the many fangs waiting behind her.
    My God! Was she to be eaten alive, dragged from this lair like some varmint and torn innards from skin all over the bloody ground? She muttered a silent and mindless prayer.
    She wiggled the Starr around from her side until she could point it up at the probing paw only inches from her face. She cocked the gun just as the wolf pulled its paw away. She waited until the paw was replaced by a sniffing nose. Hot saliva swung down into her face. When she pulled the trigger she closed her eyes to keep from blinding herself—the gun being so close to her face.
    A back-spray of warm blood and meat tissue splattered into her face, back onto her shoulders as the shot exploded blue-orange into the wolf’s drooling mouth.
    Now what?
    She dropped her face to the dirt and listened to the sound of feasting wolves on the trail behind her. The horse had fallen silent. Now the only sounds were that of ripping, slashing, chewing. An occasional threat resounded from one animal to another as they ravaged and fed.
    Moments later, as the sounds of feeding waned, she heard more and more padded paws moving restlessly back and forth on the ground behind her. Above her blood-smeared face, she heard paws digging relentlessly only inches away. She even heard the whine of younger wolves, those only reaching hunting age. She was their meal for the night, she thought.
    With a tight breath, she opened the revolver in front of her face and looked at the four remaining bullets in a sliver of moonlight.
    All right, four shots left . . .
    She cleared her head and tried to think rationally. She removed one of the four bullets and held it in her hand, lest she use it on one of the animals instead of herself when the time came to do so. She clasped her fist tight around the single bullet, closed the Starr and held it poised.
    Outside, both in front and behind her, she heard the pawing, the digging, the whining grow more intense.
    After a moment, she sighed and murmured to herself. “No, you may not. . . .”
    She opened the Starr again, placed the bullet back inside and shut it with finality. She thought about the tiny helpless baby growing in her belly as she laid her face back down into the dirt. What manner of God brings life to something only to have it eaten from its mother’s womb?
    She lay silent and still, as if awaiting her turn—hers and her child’s—to sate the hungry wolves.

Chapter 13

    The Ranger had given Erin almost an hour’s head start before he’d saddled the dun, ridden out onto the dark trail and started following her. Even in places where moonlight spilled onto the trail, it was still too dark to