"Funny what don't," he replies lightly, taking in the scene below.

Just as he'd figured.

Returning Dan's nod, his expression darkens; he goes cold and calm and calculating in the space between two breaths.

This is what he does.

He draws.

Aims.

bang

The first flanker falls.

Aims again.

bang

So does the other, tumbling head over ass off his horse, his body creating a small dust trail all its own.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

bang

The second on the coach doesn't get a chance to scramble for the Gatling.

"Driver," Ben barks at Dan, already moving down the path.