Quentin's question was answered in less than a heartbeat! Larson and Guthrie came out of what had appeared to be just a crease in the bank of the creek bed. Both men mounted and shooting.

Speed drew and fired as Roberson jerked once, then again, and topped backwards off his mount. Speed sent a couple more shots in the rustlers direction and leaped from the saddle going to Roberson's side. The man was hit in the shoulder twice.

A bullet kicked up dirt and rock next to him as Speed drug Roberson to what was the precarious safety of some rocks fallen from side of the ever deepening creek bed. Again he drew his pistol and shouted, "Throw 'em down boys!" Which was answered by a fusillade of shots.

Quentin started at the sudden eruption of shooting and hoof beats. He heard a few shots snap past...some between him and Speed and others just nearby, Quentin had an impression of Roberson falling from his saddle. Quentin brought his Winchester up while thumbing the hammer back. He fired a shot, then worked the lever, firing several quick shots as he dashed across the creek away from Speed to draw their attention. He fired from the hip several times until he could dive behind another fallen creek boulder. He rolled to a stop and reached for his belt loops, tugging out rounds to shove into the rifle's loading gate. He heard some shots but no rounds came near. Quentin then heard Speed shout something but several more shots rang out to drown out his words.

Quentin laid against the rock and took a few breaths. He then sat up from cover and leveled his rifle at the milling riders nearby. He levered the action as quickly as he could and fired several shots, alternating between the two riders.

Grateful for the cover from Quentin, Speed knew that the only danger Roberson was in, was bleeding out. The holes in his shoulder were close together, close enough that with the mans neckerchief and his own, he could fashion a bandage of sorts that would hopefully stop the blood flow. He was no doctor, but he had made up bandages during the war when there was no one else to do it.

All he needed was Cantrell to keep the outlaws off his back while he tended to Roberson. A tall order since it looked like the bad guys planned to continue fighting. Or so he surmised.

Larson had his Winchester operating while Guthrie was firing his pistols. But in a sudden move, Guthrie spurred his mount and raced up the creek bed leaving Larson behind. The lone outlaw paused looking wide eyed in the direction Guthrie had ridden. For a couple of seconds all was quiet. Then Larson began firing again possibly to begin his escape.

Quentin had ducked back for a moment as rounds glanced off the edge of the rock or snapped by. He then rolled up to return fire only to catch sight of one of the outlaws beating a hasty retreat on his horse. Quentin was surprised by this move and blinked as he saw the man spurring hard over a nearby rise, leaving his partner high and dry. The remaining man fired his own rifle at Speed where he was trying to tend to Roberson.

Quentin's eyes narrowed at the remaining criminal and he sighted his Winchester and levered off two shots. The first caught him under his arm with a blossom of red and his horse reared in fright. Quentin's second round tore through his skull as he was trying to stay in the saddle. The outlaw stiffened then fell boneless from the horse to lay in the roiling water, not moving.

Quentin stayed in cover, watching the nearby area in case the outlaw that fled decided to come back and help his friend. After several seconds, Quentin looked over in Speed's direction. "You okay??"

"Yah! But we gotta get Roberson to some help!" He was thinking, which was closer town or his ranch. "He's hit pretty hard. Got the bleeding stopped for now, but the man needs help.

The one was down, the other had ridden hell for breakfast out of there, question was, was he going after help? If that was the case they were in bad trouble with a wounded man. they wouldn't be able to move with any haste for fear of Roberson's wound opening up again, not they were actually closed, but the rough bandage had stopped the blood flow.

"You OK?" He asked.

Quentin took another look around for good measure then scrambled over to where Speed knelt with Roberson. He dropped to a knee and looked at the wounded man, then up at Speed. "I'm good...they came close a few times but no hits..."

Quentin looked at the bandage on Roberson again. "We seem to hold the field, but I don't recommend us sticking around..." Quentin looked Roberson over and didn't like what he was seeing. He glanced up at Speed. "Can he be moved?"

"No choice. If the other one went for help we'd be in for it, so let's see if we can get him mounted." Speed replied. "I'm thinking the ranch is closer." Maybe tie him in the saddle? If we lay him across it I think he could bleed to death, but we best get a move on.

He didn't like it, but if there were others coming, they wouldn't last an hour. the best bet was to try to move Roberson. Get him to his home ranch where there would be some help.

"I hope he stays unconscious, because this is going to hurt like Hell..." Quentin jogged over and grabbed the leads, then led the three horses over to Speed.

"How far is your place from here?..." Quentin shoved his Winchester back into its scabbard, then grabbed his coil of rope from the saddle and handed it to Speed so he could use it to help tie Roberson, then he grabbed the wounded man and helped Speed get him to his feet, then up onto his horse. All the while Quentin kept watching and listening for any returning riders.

Roping the man to the saddle of the rented horse, Speed looked to Cantrell, "Not my place, the Leanin' R, his place. Bound to be a sight closer than town. That I had a place, well, that's the plan on down the line." He could afford a place now, but the business tied up most of his capitol for the time being.

"Okay, slow and easy til we have to run. Let's get him there alive!" And they started out.

Quentin leaped into his saddle and moved up alongside Roberson so he could reach out and steady the man from time to time.

"Lead his horse, I'll keep him from falling..." The three horses broke into a low lope. Even if it was faster it was a little smoother on the wounded Roberson.