Coyote blue

she was! Right out of Penthouse or something. She looked Indian, long blue-black hair. What a fucking body. He watched her fawn over the baby and touch Cheryl's face. Lonnie had fucked her up, bad. Tink wondered what it was like to hit a chick. He was getting hard thinking about it.
    The Indian chick was holding the baby now, walking around the fire rocking it. She walked behind one of the tents, then ducked down. Tinker saw her shoot out the other side in a crouch, headed up the hill with the baby. Two people were coming down to meet her.
    "Hey, bitch!" Cheryl yelled. The other women were on their feet, yelling – going after the Indian chick. Tinker jumped out of the truck and started to circle around and up the hill to head off the Indian chick. As he ran he drew his Magnum from his shoulder holster. He slipped, fell to one knee, and drew down on the Indian chick. No, fuck it. If he hit the rug-rat Bonner would have his ass.
    He climbed to his feet and lumbered across the hill, watching the Indian chick hand the rug-rat to a blond chick. They were on the path at the top of the ridge. Gotcha! He'd take the lower path and be waiting for them. They had to come out at the road.
    As Tinker made his way up the dark path he heard scooters firing up below him. Good. Bonner would get there and he would already have it handled. He'd be out of the doghouse. He reached the spot where the two paths intersected and stopped. He could hear them coming up the path, the baby still crying. He leveled his Magnum down the path and waited. If the dude showed first he'd waste him without a word.
    He saw a shadow, then a foot. Tinker cocked the Magnum, put the sight where the chest would appear. A rush went through him, waiting, waiting. Now!
    A vise clamped down over the gun and he felt it wrenched out of his hand, taking skin with it. Another clamp locked down on his neck and he looked up into the eyes of his deepest fear. He felt his face come down on something hard and the bones of his nose crush. His head was wrenched back and slammed down again, then it went dark.
    ~* * *~
    "Shade!" Coyote said.
    Minty Fresh threw Tinker's unconscious body aside and looked up at the Indian woman. "Who are you?"
    Sam said, "M.F., what are you doing here?"
    "The name is Minty Fresh." He held Tinker's Magnum out to Sam, then let it drop. "I'm learning how to sneak up on people." He saw the baby and smiled. "You got him."
    "It was a fine trick," Coyote said.
    "Who are you?" Minty insisted.
    "It's your old buddy Coyote." Coyote cupped his breasts.
    Minty stepped back from the woman to get a better look. "Something's different, right? Haircut?"
    "We have to go," Calliope said.
    "To where?" Minty said.
    Calliope looked at Sam, panicked, confused. Sam had no answer.
    Coyote said, "Montana. The Crow res. Come with us, shade. It'll be fun."
    Minty turned to the roar of bikes behind him. "They're coming up the road," he said. "I'll block them as long as I can with the limo."
    They made their way down the path to where the Z was parked. The limo was parked in front.
    "I'll drive," Sam instructed. "Cal, you and Grubb in the back." They got in the car as lights from the Harleys broke through the woods. Minty got in the limo, started it, and pulled it forward to make way for the Z.
    Sam pulled the Z into the road, careful not to spin the wheels in the mud. You guys okay?" he said to Calliope, who had curled herself around Grubb.
    "Go," she said.
    The bikers broke into view, Lonnie Ray in front. Minty hit the brights on the limo, hoping to blind them. He checked the mirror to see the Z pulling away, then started to back the limo up, careful to keep it in the middle of the road to block the bikes.
    As Lonnie approached the limo he drew a pistol from his jacket and leveled it at Minty through the windshield. Minty ducked and hit the gas. The limo revved and stopped, the back wheels of the heavy car buried in the mud. Lonnie jumped off his bike onto the hood of the limo and braced himself on the roof as he aimed and fired at the Z.
    At the sound of the shot Minty looked up to see the barrel of Lonnie's pistol pointing at him through the windshield. The other bikers, unable to get past, moved up around the limo.
    "You're finished, spook," Lonnie hissed. He cocked the pistol. "Move the car out of the road."
    "I don't think so," Minty said.
    Lonnie jumped off the hood of the Lincoln and stuck the pistol through the window into Minty's temple. "I said move it."
    "You