"Do you one better," said Dean, reaching into his pack for the first aid kit he'd brought. It was less foresight and more Rollie's insistence, but damn was Dean ever grateful for it now. Happily, it looked like the bullet had gone clean through, and without better tools or Rollie's help, Dean didn't dare do more than clean and bandage it. He passed the small cleaning wipe to Fred. "Wipe it down with this," he said, "I'll be right back."

Standing, he moved quickly to where Trixa stood watch, lowering his voice and feeling his stomach sink to match. "Listen, uh. Trixa, if it comes to it." He looked between her gun and his own. "Let me do it, okay?"