"Tell him to give her the baby!" Ronnie repeated in a shrill voice that splintered like thin ice.
Donna wailed, "We're all gonna die."
Tiel was begging Juan not to harm Katherine. "Don't hurt her. She's no threat to you. Give the baby to her mother. Please. Please, don't do this."
Sabra was practically helpless. Nevertheless, maternal instinct propelled her to her feet. She was so weak she could barely stand. Swaying slightly, hand outstretched, she implored the man to return her baby to her.
Juan and Two were shouting back and forth to one another, trying to communicate above the other voices, including those of Vern and Gladys, who was cursing a blue streak. Donna was caterwauling. Agent Cain was shouting accusations at Ronnie, saying that if he had surrendered earlier this wouldn't have happened, that if the standoff resulted in tragedy it was no one's fault but his own.
The gunshot rendered everyone speechless.
Tiel, who had been appealing to Juan, witnessed his gri mace when the bullet struck. Reflexively, he pitched forward and grabbed his thigh. He would have dropped Katherine if Tiel hadn't been there to catch her.
Holding the baby close, she spun around, wondering how Ronnie had managed to get off such a clear and accurate shot, one so well placed that it had disabled Juan but hadn't endangered the baby.
But Ronnie still had the bore of his pistol trained on Two's chest and seemed as surprised as anyone that a gun had been fired.
Doc had been the marksman. He was lying on his back on the floor, a small revolver in his hand. Tiel recognized Agent Cain's weapon, the one she had kicked beneath the freezer and forgotten. Thank God Doc had remembered it.
He took advantage of the momentary silence. "Gladys, get over here."
The old lady came scurrying around the Frito-Lay display.
"Did you kill him?"
"No."
"Too bad."
"Take the baby so Tiel can tend to Sabra. I'll take care of him," he said, referring to Juan. "Ronnie, relax. Everything's under control. No need to panic."
"Is the baby okay?"
"She's fine." Gladys carried the crying infant over to where Ronnie could see her for himself. "She's mad as hell, and I can't say as I blame her." Glaring back at Juan where he now sat on the floor gripping his bleeding thigh, she snarled with contempt.
Several jabs of Ronnie's pistol sent Two skulking back to his original spot. His expression was meaner and more agitated than before.
Doc placed Cain's revolver high on a grocery shelf, well out of Juan's reach, and knelt down to cut open his trouser leg with the scissors. "You'll live," he said laconically after assessing the damage and stuffing gauze pads into the wound. "Lucky for you the bullet missed the femoral artery."
Juan's eyes blazed with resentment.
"Doc?" Tiel had got Sabra to lie back down, but fresh blood was making the floor around her slick. The girl was ghastly pale.
"I know," Doc said soberly, picking up on Tiel's unspoken alarm. "I'm sure she reopened the tear in the perineum.
Make her as comfortable as you can. I'll be right back."
He had hurriedly bandaged Juan's wound and fashioned a tourniquet with another of the souvenir T-shirts.
Evidently in excruciating pain, Juan was sweating profusely, and his straight, white teeth were clenched. But, to his credit, he didn't cry out when Doc unceremoniously and none too gently hoisted him to his feet and supported him as he hopped on one foot.
As they went past Cain, the agent addressed the gunshot man. "You goddamn fool. You could've got us all killed. What were you-"
Quicker than a striking rattlesnake, Juan, using the foot of his injured leg, kicked Cain viciously in the head. The sudden move cost him dearly. He grunted with pain. Even so, his boot heel had connected solidly with bone, and the snapping sound was almost as loud as the pistol shot. Cain went silent and unconscious in the same instant. His chin dropped forward onto his chest.
Doc pushed Juan to the floor, propping him against the refrigerator well away from his confederate. "He's not going anywhere. But just to be safe, better bind his hands, Ronnie. His too," he added, motioning toward Two.
Ronnie instructed Vern to tape the two men's hands and feet like Cain's. He held the pistol on them while the old man went about the task. Juan was too involved with his injured leg to waste energy on invectives, but Two was under no such constraints. He kept up a litany of what was presumed to be Spanish vulgarities until Ronnie threatened to gag him if he didn't shut up.