With instincts honed in a hundred trades, Ryan knew that was too much, too fast. The hide had to be worth a hell of a lot more than they thought possible. “Eight,” he corrected, testing the limits of the deal. “Plus tack, plus feed.”
“But there’s only seven of you!”
“And we’ll need one to haul supplies.”
“Oh, use the boy,” Tom countered hotly. “He’s young and strong, why burden a horse? They’re expensive.”
The stable boy was cowering, and new shadows appeared on the wall from people standing in the doorway.
“Incoming,” Ryan said with a smile.
Tom scratched his head. “What’s that mean, huh?”
“I know,” J.B. answered, pulling the Uzi in front of him.
Doc crossed his arms and rested a hand on the LeMat. “Could be friendlies,” he hedged.
There came the click-clack of a blaster, and Ryan spun, shooting from the hip just as the man with the shotgun fired. A sprinkling of buckshot took Ryan in the shoulder as he dived for cover. Fat Tom started pleading as the stocky man in the doorway fired again, blowing the plump man off the floor.
“Three, two, one,” Ryan said, standing.
In unison, the companions unleashed a volley of lead. Torn to pieces, the attacker fell into the trough, the scattergun breaking in two as it hit the ground. A line of holes in the trough began to leak water. Then a flurry of arrows hissed into the stable, thudding into the split rails, posts and walls.
“There’s more,” Krysty announced, snapping off shots. Nearby, Fat Tom lay dead on the floor, his guts splattered over the wall and dribbling onto his shocked face.
Crouched behind a bale of hay, J.B. shoved the Uzi over the top and fired a short spray. A man cried out, but it sounded fake.
“It’s the assholes from the tavern,” Ryan said, clearing a jam.
“Bitch Feather,” Jak snarled.
“No, this is my fault,” Ryan stated harshly. “I wasn’t paying attention for once. Not a blaster in sight here, and we come waltzing in with an arsenal. Of course somebody is going to try and chill us.”
An ax flew between the horses and slammed into the floor, biting inches into the wood, missing Doc’s hand by a hair. He withdrew quickly.
“They will try,” Doc corrected, watching the doorway that led to the living quarters. A figure darted into view, and he snapped off a shot from the LeMat, catching the man in the throat. Clutching his shredded flesh, the man stumbled and fell, quietly bleeding to death in the doorway.
The horses were whinnying in fear, making it hard to hear movements outside. “You there, boy,” Krysty demanded, crawling on her belly. “Where’s the back door?”
“Ain’t got one,” the boy whimpered, huddled in the corner. “Just the front.”
“Ladder to the hayloft?”
“The what?”
“Where you store the hay!” The boy gestured at the floor. In understanding, Krysty cursed the slovenly stable owner. There was no way out, and they were trapped in a tinderbox. “Sure hope they don’t want to burn us out!” she muttered.
“That would chill the horses,” J.B. said, firing at the ground and hitting a booted foot. The owner screamed, fell into view and was chilled. “They can’t get us, and we can’t leave. It’s a standoff.”
“So what do we do?” Dean asked, sliding a fresh clip into his gun. Surrendering their blasters wasn’t an option. They would only get chilled afterward as the coldhearts laughed at their stupidity.
“Change rules,” Jak said, holding his breath as he fired his .357 magnum pistol. A rope overhead snapped, and the first door to the garage rolled to the ground in a loud crash. The teenager tried the same trick again, but the second door only slid halfway before getting stuck. The third didn’t move an inch.
“Use the horses,” Ryan said, wriggling between the rails of a stall. The nervous animal reared at his presence, but Ryan soothed the horse with soft words. When it was calm, he laid a sack of feed across its back, then draped over a blanket, cinching it tight with some reins.
Moving quickly, the others did the same. Then whooping and firing their blasters, they chased the beasts out of the stable. The horses stampeded for freedom, charging into the street past the waiting gang of coldhearts.
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