“Who wants to know?” Louisa asked again.
One of the other men chuckled.
Prophet ground his teeth together. He didn’t like the sound of that. He didn’t like the sound of any of it. There had to be ten riders up there, maybe a few more, a few less. It didn’t matter. Prophet and the Vengeance Queen were outnumbered.
Prophet increased his pace as he headed toward the shack.
“What do you think you’re doin’ out here?” asked the man who’d spoken before—the group’s leader, most likely.
“Who wants to know?” was Louisa’s mocking response to that question, as well.
Oh, shit, Prophet thought. Oh shit! He quickened his pace even more.
“Who wants to know?” asked the man who’d been doing most of the talking. “I’ll tell you who wants to know. The sons o’ bitches who’re gonna burn down your purty ass, Miss Bonaventure!”
Prophet broke into a dead run.