Bodie could see Jasmine hanging limply across the saddle in front of the rider. As the horses broke from the trees, starting to cross an open stretch Bodie saw his chance. He hauled his mount to a dead stop, rising in his stirrups and brought the Henry to his shoulder. He pulled down on the distant target, hoping the rifle shot true, held his target and touched the trigger. He felt the Henry jerk back against his shoulder as it fired.
The .44 caliber slug struck just below the rider’s hat brim. It jerked the man forward, a dark gout of blood bursting out from his skull as he pitched forward, slipping sideways off the horse’s back. His right foot caught in the stirrup and he hung limply. The unaccustomed weight made the horse slow and stop.
Bodie drew rein alongside, easing his bruised body from the saddle. He reached up and slid Jasmine from the horse, holding her slim form in his arms as he moved her away. He could feel her stirring sluggishly and saw the bruise across her right cheek where the rider had struck her. He laid her on the ground, went back to the horse and took the canteen he saw. He knelt beside her, uncapping the canteen and splashed dribbles of water over her face until she opened her eyes, staring up at him. Panic gripped her before she recognized Bodie.
‘This is becoming a habit, Mr. Bodie. You rescuing me from bad men.’
‘Let’s hope this is the last time.’
Jasmine’s gaze was drawn to the sprawled body. She failed to repress a shudder when she saw what Bodie’s shot had done.
‘Because of that man, Tung, there seems to have been a great deal of violence and dying.’
Bodie inspected the bruise of her face. ‘You seem to be having your share of hard treatment. Tung? His time is coming. Believe me.’ He helped Jasmine to her feet. ‘Can you ride?’
‘If it helps to get away from all this, I’ll ride, Mr. Bodie.’