The Outlaws by Jane Toombs

he was doing right. Not feel guilty about leaving Tess and Jules behind. Billy was the kind of a man who could call the Territory home. Who knew what a man had to do to live here.
    By noon the sun was actually hot. They were in sight of Blazer’s Mill on the Mescalero reservation,
    “We’ll get Mrs. Godfroy to fix us dinner,” Brewer said.
    She was the Indian Agent’s wife and kept an eating place for travelers. The Regulators left their horses in the corral, carrying their rifles into the building and stacking them against the wall near the dining room before sitting down to eat.
    Ezra had just put his spoon into the bean stew when Middleton leaped to his feet, pointing out the window. “By God here comes Buckshot Roberts, big as life!”
    “Let’s get him,” Billy cried.”
    The Regulators shoved back chairs and dove for their rifles.
    “Hold it!” Brewer ordered. “I got a warrant for him and I intend to take him alive,” He glanced around until his gaze lit on Frank Coe.
    “Frank,” he said, “You know Roberts as well as any of us, You go on out and explain what we mean to do.”
    As Coe strode outside, Ezra stared at the approaching Roberts. The man got the name Buck because he carried so many bullets in his body from fighting--mostly against the Texas Rangers, Ezra’d heard. Buckshot wasn’t a big man and he limped, but he looked as tough as old leather, not the kind who’d give up easily. “You reckon Roberts will surrender to us?” Ezra asked Billy.
    Billy grinned and shook his head.
    Roberts stopped when he saw Coe and then the two of them walked around the side of the building, talking to each other, and disappearing from sight.
    “What if he takes Frank hostage?” Middleton asked. “Hell, he might even shoot him.”
    Brewer, pacing back and forth, didn’t answer. Time passed. Frank Coe and Roberts didn’t reappear.
    “Buckshot ain’t gonna make it easy for us,” Billy said.
    Brewer nodded. He stopped pacing, pointed at George Coe, Frank’s cousin. “You go out there, George. Take Middleton and Bowdre. Tell Roberts he’s under arrest.”
    The three hurried out. Billy touched Ezra’s arm and began to drift toward the door. Ezra followed.
    “Bound to be trouble,” Billy muttered. “Should have shot him to begin with.”
    Ezra and Billy were at the door when they heard Bowdre call, “Roberts, throw up your hands!”
    A man shouted, “No!” A rifle cracked. Somebody yelped in pain.
    Ezra ran outside with Billy, Winchester in his hand. More shots.
    “Jesus, I’m hit,” Middleton cried, staggering toward Ezra.
    Blood welled onto Middleton’s shirt and dripped onto the dirt. There was no sign of Roberts. A bullet zinged past Ezra. Billy grabbed his arm and yanked him behind a wagon. They crouched by the wheels to peer underneath.
    “Roberts is holed up in there.” Billy pointed to an open doorway in a house some yards away. Ezra saw that a mattress had been shoved into the opening. When bullets from Roberts’ rifle began spattering against the wagon, Ezra and Billy retreated around the corner of the building where the other Regulators had taken cover.
    “Your arms bleeding,” Ezra said to Billy.
    “Grazed me, that’s all. He’s one hell of a mean old man.”
    George Coe had a blood-soaked bandana wrapped around his right hand and Bowdre was cursing the shot that had cut off his gun belt. Middleton was breathing okay, so Ezra guessed he wasn’t badly wounded.
    Brewer turned to Bowdre. “You’re sure you hit Roberts?”
    “A gut shot,” Bowdre told him. “Didn’t you hear him howl? Never figured he’d make it to that room. He oughta be dead.”
    “Just leave him there” Billy advised. “He ain’t going to live long if he’s gut shot.” Brewer shook his head. I’m going to sneak up on him.” Billy shrugged.
    Ezra watched Brewer cross the road and duck behind a small rollway of logs near the sawmill. Brewer crouched behind the logs as he eased along to get into