I darted to the right, toward the tavern I'd just left, swinging my walking stick in front of me like a bat. Another shot went off behind me, and a hailstorm of splintered wood sliced at my cheek as part of the exterior wall exploded. The bald man, or whoever was shooting at me, was aiming toward my head, and he might not miss the next shot.

The bullet hole in my shoulder chewed pain down my entire arm. Blood soaked down my side. My legs threatened to curl me to the ...