[Author’s Note: This novel was published 16 months before Alec Baldwin accidentally shot two people on the movie set of Rust.]

The horses raced toward him at full speed, the riders ee-hawing and firing their pistols. As they crossed the center cross-street, one rider aimed his gun at a woman cowering on the sidewalk. He fired. She screamed and fell. Nick felt his neck hairs curl—it seemed so real. Another rider fired at another pedestrian. Nick heard the distinct plunk of a bullet punching through wood. His neck hairs stood up straight, and so did he. A jolt of adrenaline shot through him.

“What the hell?” Manchester muttered.

Before Nick could reply, the horses raced by him, and a third rider aimed his pistol directly at Holly Manchester. Without thinking, Nick launched himself at the girl and tackled her; the rider fired. Holly screamed. She and Nick hit the wooden sidewalk in a heap. A breakaway window above them shattered and glass fragments cascaded down over them.

Rod Manchester ran into the street, shouting after the riders.

“Stop, goddammit! Stop! Cut! Cut!”

The riders hauled back on the reins and their mounts dug in their heels, stopping just a few yards away. They wheeled around to see what was wrong.

“Hold your fire!” Manchester shouted. “You’re firing live ammunition!”

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