“For God’s sake, hold your fire,” he growled at the dark figure in front of him. Taking a chance, he pushed the person away. “I’m here to help!” He grabbed the wheel on the damaged wagon next to him, the heavy odor of charred wood filling his nose from where several arrows had caught fire. He dug his heels into the slippery mud and pressed his shoulder against the large wheel, inching the cumbersome contraption forward.
Lightning flashed again, and he made out the nondescript outline of Sam’s hat behind the wheel of the other wagon, along with the short, caped figure. With one last push, the space shrunk to about a foot, much easier for one man to defend.
A quick glance around showed a grim tale. The people from the train had fought hard. He counted at least seven bodies strewn about in
