Isak sank to his knees beside his brother. “What happened? Viktor, talk to me. Are you all right?”
Josephine knelt beside them. “He wrestled for the gun, and it went off…hitting him in his shoulder. But he was able to get the gun from Walter after that. Viktor shot him squarely in the chest.”
From inside, Mrs. Olofsson said in a shaking voice, “He’s dead. The man’s dead.” She stumbled as she ran out to her sons. “Viktor, Viktor.” Tears ran down her face. “Do something, Isak.”
Isak tore through the fabric of his brother’s shirt. The angry red wound bled profusely, but the hole was neat. I went down on my knees and lifted his shoulder. With my fingertips, I searched for the wound on the other side. It was there, thank God. “The bullet went through. This is good.”
“You were so brave,” Jo said, stroking Viktor’s hair off his forehead. “You’re going to be all better. Your dad’s getting the doctor. He’ll be here soon.”
Viktor groaned, but his eyes fluttered open. “Am I hurt?”
“A little, but you’re going to be fine,” I said.
“I don’t feel a thing,” Viktor said.
“Liar,” Isak said.
“Mrs. Olofsson, can you bring out some cotton fabric?” I asked. “Something to stop the bleeding. Two pieces.”
She nodded and ran inside.
Viktor’s face was as white as the snow. “I shot him, Isak. He had the gun on all of them. I was in the back but he didn’t know, so I sneaked in on him. Tackled him…and then…” He drifted off, closing his eyes.
“He’s going into shock,” I said.
Mrs. Olofsson handed me a strip of white fabric. As gently as I could, I pressed into the entrance and exit wounds. Poor Viktor moaned.
“We should bring him inside,” I said. “Where it’s warm.”
Isak and I each took a side and lifted him to his feet as Viktor groaned in pain.
“I’ll get that bastard out of our way.” Josephine sprinted indoors. With both hands around his ankles, she dragged Walter out the door and onto the sidewalk. How she’d done that, I couldn’t say. Perhaps the heightened emotions had given her super strength.
“I don’t want him near Viktor,” Jo said. “He’s trash who deserves to be out on the street.”
“Here, bring my boy to the window seat,” Mrs. Olofsson said.
Blood from Walter sullied the normally pristine front of the shop. A smear of it from where Jo dragged him outdoors was impossible not to step in. Our boots made a sickly sticky sound as we crossed over to the window seat.
Viktor moaned once more as we helped him lie across the seat. His muscular legs were too long and dangled over one end.
Mrs. Olofsson knelt by her son’s feet, weeping. “My sweet boy, please be all right.”
Josephine took over pressing into his wound with the fabric. She looked up at me. “How did you find us?”
“Fiona heard everything.”
“Where is she?” Josephine asked me. “I hated to leave her, but I had no choice.”
“She’s locked in your dad’s office. She’s fine. Very brave, in fact.”
Outside, the sound of bells and the whinny of horses told me Lord Barnes had arrived. I went out to greet them. Lord Barnes sprang from the sleigh. His expression turned to panic when he saw the blood. “Phillip, is she hurt?”
“No, no. It’s Viktor. He’s been shot in the shoulder. He killed Walter.” I gestured toward the body.
Lord Barnes looked as if he might faint. I put out a hand to steady him. “The doctor’s on his way. It’s a shoulder wound, but the bullet went straight through.” I told them what I knew. “Then Jo dragged him out here. I’ve never seen a woman that strong in my life.”
Dr. Neal rode up on his horse. Harley offered to take care of the animal so the doctor could go directly inside. Lord Barnes said he’d go across the street to his office and call the undertaker.