Quick as lightning, Nate strode forward, shoved his revolver in his waistband, and planted Chris face-first in the dirt. With a knee between his shoulders and a firm hand on the back of his neck, Nate toed the gun farther from them.
He whipped his attention to Olivia. "Did he hurt you?" He scanned her for wounds as if he might expire on the spot if she had any.
She shook her head repeatedly, tears leaving tracks on her cheeks. Her gaze dropped to Amy. "She's pretty bad, though."
Amy opened her mouth to reassure her friend, but Nakos set his rifle behind him and squatted next to her. Familiar midnight eyes traced her face with frenetic concern in their depths. The dark skin of his Native American heritage grew ashen the longer he stared. Eyebrows wrenched in a frown and jaw tight, he reached for her with a shaking hand, but swiftly drew back.
"You've looked better, Ames." The tension cracking his voice nearly felled her.