Josie shook her head. “If you want it in there, you carry it.”
His hand shot out with lightning speed and gripped her hair hard. He pulled it, yanking her head back. “Like yourn grandfather, ye are. Too stubborn and too much pride.”
“Let her go,” Westman said quietly. He cocked a pistol, and the sound punctuated his words.
Josie swerved to see him clearly just as the other man came up behind him. “Stephen, behind you!”
She was too late.
The roar of the gun blast was deafening. It resounded in Josie’s ears long after there should have been silence. And then she realized that the sound was her screaming. Wrenching her body away from Jack, she fell on the ground beside Stephen. She pulled him into a sitting position, into her arms. It was too dark to see, but she could feel the spreading moisture on the back of his coat.
Blood.
“Josie,” Stephen rasped.
She looked down at him, into his blue eyes.
“Get away. Run—”
“Shh.” She put a finger over his lips. “I’m not leaving without you.”
“Goddamn it,” he choked out, then coughed. “I knew you were going to say that.”
She felt something hard and solid press into her palm, looked down and saw the glint of the pistol he’d been holding.
“Get up, Miss ’ale,” One-Eyed Jack ordered. “I warned ye not to try anything foolish.”
She glanced down at Stephen and reluctantly began to pull away. She had one chance to get him to the inn. She prayed she wouldn’t ruin it.
She was almost to her feet, when Stephen grabbed her wrist. “Be careful.”
She winked at him. “Always.”
She stood, her back to Jack and the man who’d shot Stephen. Buying time to steady the pistol in her hands and place her finger on the trigger, she squared her shoulders and turned slowly. Raising the gun, she pointed it at Jack. The other man was looking down, priming his weapon for the next shot.
“Drop it, sir.”
The other man looked up at her, saw the gun, then looked at Jack. The old pirate had liberated his sword from the scabbard at his belt, but Josie knew it would be little use against her pistol. Of course, she only had one shot, so if she killed his partner, he might be able to use it after all.
She looked back at the man who shot Stephen. “Drop your weapon, sir.”
“Make me, wench,” he sneered at her then went back to priming.
Jack smiled. “Can’t do it, can ye lass?”
“Just watch me,” she ground out. Her hand was shaking, but she raised the pistol and aimed it at One-Eyed Jack. His eyes widened. She squinted then screwed her eyes shut. Finger trembling, she pulled the trigger.
Click.
Josie opened her eyes and stared down at the pistol. She shook it, pointed, pulled the trigger again.
Click.
“Sand, lass,” One-Eyed Jack said with a laugh. “It can be a real bitch.”
Josie stepped back, and her toe brushed Stephen’s leg. Shielding him as best she could, she tried to stand straight. Inside the accusations bowed her.
She’d failed, not her courage but the pistol. She had failed.
