Chapter 8

“Hold still, boy. You ain’t going nowhere.”

George ducked and covered his head with his arms, and the man laughed.

“You a-scared of me?” He looked down at his big fists. “I reckon your pa trained you up right. I’m gonna enjoy—”

George wondered if the man heard the hammer being cocked or the shot that scattered his brains all over the stall’s wall.

“George!”

“Papa!” He scrambled to his feet and ran to his father, who scooped George into his arms.

“Are you okay, son?”

George nodded and tucked his head under Papa’s chin. He’d seen death before, and that wasn’t what bothered him. “He…he wanted to take me back to Grandpapa. I’m sorry, he must have heard me call Mr. Ike se?or.”

“It’s all right. We’ll just have to be more careful in the future.” Papa stroked his hair and his back, which made George feel better until he realized Papa was shaking as much as he was.

“Who is he?”

“I don’t know—some saddle tramp Don Jorge hired, I suppose. We’d better get out of here.”