Goodie crouched inside the thick underbrush, standing over Armie’s unconscious body, his loaded pistol gripped two handed. Avarice was high up in the branches of the trees, scouting for the surviving guides. Armie’s pistol and knife accounted for two of them, but the other four had her boxed in. She wished she had Armie’s knife, but that dead guide needed it more, since Armie left it in his ribs.
Avarice whistled and Goodie saw two of the reavers stalking toward her hiding place. One bullet, one shot, two men. “Nothing for it,” she said and aimed at the lead man.