“Why are ya inta bounty huntin’?” I asked her again.
“None of yer buisness.” she said, never removing her eyes from the window.
“Why doncha lemme go? I ainta done nuthin’ ta you.” I protested, trying to reach her sense of sympathy. If she had one.
“Say that ta me one more time, Wren Jessup, and I’ll shootcha right now.” she said slowly turning away from the window and sticking me with a glare that coulda melted bullets.
Suddenly we heard gunshots and the pounding of horses hooves. Tanya grabbed her pistol out of her lap and leaned out the stagecoach window.
“What is it?” I demanded.
“Faster!” I heard Tanya yell to the driver and heard her shots as she returned fire. Then I heard a ping and the stagecoach careened wildly to one side. They’d shot one of the axels! Tanya threw herself backwards just as the stagecoache flipped on its side. Surprisingly it wasn’t dragged anywhere by the horses. Tanya scrambled out the carriage and swore. The driver had cut them loose and was riding off into the distance.