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~/~/~( Chapter 10 )~~~




The gray light of dawn broke over the grassy land, casting an opaque hue that dulled the landscape’s vivid green color. A lazy fog floated at the edge of the hills, slowly retreating in the morning light and back to the mountains in the far distance. The countless drops of dew on the still grass sparkled in the gray light, the hills glittering as the sun slowly peaked over the horizon. The lone white house and weathered barn shone with a glaze of thawing early morning frost, the scene creating an eerie tranquility of silent stillness.

Shadows melted in and out of the trees just beyond the barn, the movements ghostly in the dull morning air. A dark figure slowly took shape behind a shrub and tree. The shadowed face glared upon the barn and house, green eyes glowing in an intense stare beneath a black, low crown hat that had a shimmer of silver covering its surface from the dew that clung to the tough leather.

Kevin frowned and glanced back at Howie and AJ, who had each taken up similar positions behind the foliage and shadows. While Howie had shed his coat and vest, leaving him in his gray cotton shirt with the knives crisscrossing his back in plain view, AJ had kept his long buckskin coat upon his lithe frame, the cape like coat flowing silently about his legs as he moved. Kevin had shed his long dark coat and stood in only his close fitting black western shirt and jeans, spurs absent from his black boots. He pressed closer to the rough tree and observed the scene before him.

Three men still stood at the entrance to the barn. One stood tall, save for a slight slouch, with a rifle cradled in his arms across his chest. His eyes lazily scanned the landscape, fatigue obvious in his features. The other two were less alert. One leaned back against the barn, head hanging low and rifle pointed toward the ground in a loose grip. The other stood with one arm braced on his rifle that now served the man better as a cane than a weapon, head listing on his opposite shoulder and mouth ajar, emitting a garbled snore periodically.

The house stood solitary in the morning light, the two remaining cowboys asleep, one sprawled on the worn porch steps, the other draped across the rickety porch swing. An eerie squeak strained from the rusty chains as the swing swayed slightly in the lazy breeze.

A slow, sinister smile curved Kevin’s lips at the sight. Piece of cake, he thought, eyes sparking. Without relinquishing his stare upon the farm, Kevin used his hand to motion Howie and AJ closer. When the dark gunslinger felt them stop beside him he spoke, still not taking his eyes off the lazy scene, “We’ll go for the barn, take ‘em quiet and quick. No guns. We get in the barn and then-” Kevin broke off suddenly, silent for a moment before uttering a short curse, “Shit.”

All three watched as a smartly dressed man they hadn’t seen before, the old man that came from the barn the night before, and Branson stepped upon the house’s porch. The old man and the stranger worked their way down the porch steps, the stranger kicking the sleeping outlaw awake, and then they walked to the barn.

The distinct sound of Branson cursing at his men on the porch, jerking them awake, was carried across to the barn. The sound snapped the three outlaws alert, just in time as the stranger and old man approached them. One moved quickly to open the barn door, letting the pair enter, before shutting it behind them. All of the gang was now awake and alert.

Howie let his shoulders sag. This wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought, many people were probably going to die. He just prayed it wasn’t one of them. He glanced at AJ’s dark countenance and then looked to Kevin, frowning at the bowed head. Howie placed a hand on the tense shoulder, “Kevin...”

“I’ll think of somethin’,” came the low growl, Howie’s hand being roughly shrugged off, “We’ll get ‘em out.”

Howie could feel the anger the dark gunslinger emanated and took a step back. People are definitely going to die this day.

~/~/~( )~~~

A hand shaking his shoulder and an urgent, unfamiliar voice broke through Brian’s sluggish mind. Slowly, he was pulled from his deep sleep. He cracked open his blue eyes to focus in on the elderly man of the night before, the sight retrieving the memory of where he was.

“Mr. Littrell,” spoke the old man, Frederick? That was what Nick had called him, “Please, Mr. Morgan wishes to speak with the two of you but,” the frail sounding voice faltered, “I cannot wake Nickolas.”

Brian’s eyes lost all remnants of sleep, his gaze moving to Nick’s visage beside him. His southern features clouded at the pale, slack face, “Nick?” Brian nudged him with his shoulder. Nothing. Brian looked to Frederick and then Arlen Morgan, his eyes portraying a foreign pleading look, “Please, untie me. I might be able to wake him if my hands are free.”

Arlen scowled, but considered the request. Finally, he nodded his head. As Frederick untied Brian, Arlen went to the door and retrieved one of the guards. The outlaw now stood at the door, rifle at the ready if Brian tried anything.

The southerner noticed this, but was too busy rubbing his hands to regain feeling in them. He looked to Nick and reached out, his hand touching Nick’s forehead and feeling the heat of a fever. Brian shut his eyes briefly, frowning, then fixed his stare on Nick’s closed eyes as he gently slapped the pale cheek. When he spoke, his southern drawl was urgent and soft, “Nick... Nick, you must wake up...” His other hand moved to shake Nick’s shoulder, “It’s Brian, Nick. I need you to wake up... Please, my friend...”

Nick groaned at those last words, brow furrowing. He took in a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he peeled his eyes open, the blue depths bright with fever. He stared openly at Brian, recognition slowly dawning. Brian could only then watch as the panic quickly arose in Nick, the memories of their situation emerging. Nick abruptly straightened from his slumped posture against the support beam, a gasp stealing his breath away as his side flared in hot pain. He moaned and let his head fall back against the beam, eyes closing.

“Take it easy, Nick,” soothed Brian, a helpless expression on his face. He shot a look up as Arlen approached. He winced at the look on the sick man’s face.

“Glad you could join us, Nick,” smirked Arlen, chuckling as Nick snapped his eyes open and tensed. Arlen waited until the guarded blue eyes locked with his before continuing, “I thought it was time to enlighten you of why you’re here.”

Nick scowled, his voice hard and strained, “I’m here because you brought me here.”

Arlen’s face darkened at the sarcastic reply, “Listen here, boy. You don’t take that tone with me. You know what will happen if you continue.” He smiled as Nick visibly flinched, “That’s right. Now, Frederick here has something for you.”

Nick’s eyes were wary as Frederick reached into his coat, pulling out a handful of papers. Frederick made to give them to Nick, but when Nick quirked an eyebrow and raised his shoulders, emphasizing his tied hands, Frederick looked to Arlen, “Sir?”

Arlen sighed, visibly exasperated, “Yes, fine. Untie him.”

As Nick now massaged his numb hands, Frederick handed him the papers. Nick took them, scowling as he watched his hands tremble. Trying to still them, he concentrated on the documents. His eyes slowly widened, what little color he had left in his face draining away. Nick’s mouth opened, then closed. He brought shocked eyes up to his step-father’s scowling face, “Me?”

Anger clouded Arlen’s face at the whispered word, “Yes, you! You, the God-forsaken brat of hers! You, of her blood and some other bastard’s! You,” Arlen narrowed his eyes, “the one who ran away.”

Nick flinched as if struck at the last comment. Brian furrowed his brow from where he kneeled watching, afraid to add his voice lest it cause them to stop. He wanted to know why this was happening to Nick. He looked back to Arlen as he spoke again.

“You, she left it all to you,” Arlen sneered, “After all I went through to get it, and she gives it to you! I was so close! It was mine, in my hands! And she leaves it all to you!”

Nick reeled from the information. His mother, she had willed it all--the estate, the money, the entire inheritance, everything--she had left it all to him. But, why? I ran away... I abandoned her. Why did she give it to me? Nick didn’t understand.

Nick’s confusion must have shone on his face, because Arlen exploded, “You want to know why, don’t you! I’ll tell you why... So I wouldn’t get it!! The little bitch was more perceptive than I thought. I was so sure I had her fooled, but she knew why I married her. Maybe not at first, but she figured it out. The damn bitch had it planned for years!”

Brian had to stop the smile that wanted to appear on his face. Arlen had been conned by the woman he thought he had conned. Now, Nick held all that he had worked to get and it shocked the stupid man. Brian shook his head, the man who was Nick’s step-father was a con man. Brian’s eyes saddened, Just like me... Then Brian’s face hardened, No, I would never do what this man did. I wouldn’t ruin a family, the love between Mother and son, just for money. That was going too far...

Pure rage slowly took away Nick’s shock at Arlen’s words, his eyes burned with hate as he lunged at the man, “You son of a BITCH!!”

Nick collided with Arlen’s legs, tackling the surprised man to the hard dirt floor. Teeth clenched in hate and pain, Nick scrambled to get at the man’s face. Never before had he wanted to beat a man so badly, but just when he was about to bring his fist down, he was grabbed roughly by the shoulders and thrown back. Nick grunted as his back slammed into the wooden beam, his form then collapsing to the ground. He shut his eyes as he rolled onto his side and curled up, hands clutching his wounded side as he let out a groan of pain.

Brian quickly moved to his side, placing his hands on Nick’s shoulders, “Nick! ...Nick,” called Brian softly, worriedly, “Are you okay? Nick?”

Brian relaxed back as Nick managed a nod, though the young blond did not move from his position. Brian turned to glare at the outlaw that helped Arlen up. Brian had almost ejected his derringer at Nick’s attack, but he didn’t want to hit Nick. He had to stay aside, and it caused anger to rise within him. Brian wanted to kill Arlen Morgan. The man was lower than dirt.

“Not a smart move, Nickolas,” ground out Arlen, straightening his coat as he glared down at Nick and Brian, “Not smart at all.”

The outlaw cocked his rifle, eyes watching the two prisoners as he stood at Arlen’s side. Frederick had a hand pressed against his chest, shock written in his eyes as he looked from Brian and Nick to Arlen. Things were getting out of control.

“Now,” began Arlen, as if nothing had happened, “the reason you are here is, I need you to sign a simple contract that will change the beneficiary of the inheritance to…” Arlen smiled widely, “me.”

“No!” Nick growled, wrapping one arm around his middle while using the other to force himself up to a sitting position. He glared up at Arlen, his voice final, “No. I won’t sign it.”

Arlen’s smile fled, his face turning cold as well as his tone of voice, “Let me rephrase that. You will sign this contract, or your companion here will die.”

Nick’s eyes shot to Brian, then back to Arlen. The outlaw pointed his rifle at the gambler. Brian shut his eyes. He knew Arlen would do this.

Nick bit his lip, he couldn’t let Brian die just for money. Money held nothing to a life, especially when that life was a friend. Nick’s face fell, his eyes defeated as he spoke, “Fine. I’ll sign it.”

Arlen’s smile returned, oddly resembling the cat that ate the canary, “Good. Very good.”

As Nick reluctantly signed the papers, Arlen inwardly laughed. His stepson had a soft spot for the gambler, they were friends. Arlen’s smiled turned into a smirk, his eyes flitting to the outlaw that held the gun aimed at Brian’s heart.

Nick finished, shoving the papers at Arlen’s feet. Frederick stooped to retrieve them, his eyes sad as he stood beside the armed outlaw. Arlen nodded, “Thank you, Nick. Now, say good-bye to your friend.”

Brian’s and Nick’s eyes widened. Nick shook his head, “What?! No! You- you said…”

“And you believed me?” laughed Arlen, “Foolish boy.” Arlen nodded to the outlaw.

The outlaw smiled and then a gunshot echoed through the morning air from the barn.

~/~/~( )~~~


Kevin’s eyes shot up, locking on the barn as the shot’s report echoed around them, “What the hell?!”

“Shit,” breathed AJ, staring at the sterile barn as if it just exploded. He looked down, face twisting, “Aw... shit.”

Howie shook his head, refusing to believe what he heard, “They’re okay... They gotta be...”

Kevin seethed with rage as he stared upon the ranch, his eyes blazing at the outlaws at the barn’s entrance. Then, he looked at Branson and felt something snap inside him. He spoke to AJ and Howie in a low, dangerous tone, “Take the barn, I got the house. Now, go!”

Kevin ran toward the house, his green gaze fixed on the small shed to the right front of the porch. Kevin’s dark silhouette almost floated through the trees as bands of morning sun broke through the shadows and reflected off the dew that clung to his clothes and hat.

“Kevin!” Howie half hissed, half shouted, shaking his head when there was no response. Howie looked at AJ beside him, “The damn fool is gonna git himself killed! He ain’t thinkin’ straight.”

AJ glanced a Kevin’s retreating back, then looked back at Howie, “Cover him, ‘D. I got the barn. Don’t worry, we’ll all be all right.” AJ shoved Howie in the direction of the house, “Go on.”

Howie stared at AJ for a moment, then nodded his head. Howie checked his gun and then darted after the man in black. AJ leaned back against a tree and took in a deep breath, then looked to the barn. He cocked his mare’s leg, then glanced at Howie and Kevin, who were just leaving the cover of the trees. Pushing away from the tree, AJ silently trotted toward the barn.

~/~/~( )~~~

Mac blinked to wake himself up. He was dead tired. He wondered when Nick and Brian’s friends would arrive so he could finally be out of Branson’s gang. He shifted his feet and leaned against the barn. Then, the other outlaw with him straightened. Mac looked around and moved closer to the other outlaw.

“What?” Mac whispered.

“Someone’s in those trees, he’s comin’ this way,” the outlaw said, raising his rifle. He looked down the barrel and smirked, “I got him.” He cocked the gun, but paused when another gun being cocked echoed around him. He glanced behind him to see Mac pointing his rifle at him.

“Best you give me that gun,” toned Mac.

The outlaw stood frozen for a moment, then he spun around to try and shoot Mac, but Mac pulled the trigger before he had the chance. Mac watched the outlaw fall, then he looked to see AJ staring at him. AJ tipped his hat at Mac in thanks, then he disappeared behind the barn.

Mac took a deep breath, then ran and grabbed his horse from the hitching post at the barns far side. With one last look at the farm, Mac rode away.

~/~/~( )~~~

Branson was leaning against one of the porch beams, his eyes hooded as he slowly began to fall asleep. That damn Mr. Morgan’s fancy hooch they had drank last night had given him a monster hangover. The echo of the shot coming from the barn caught his attention and he frowned. Mr. Morgan had told him to expect one gunshot. That was two. Something was wrong. Then the wood at the side of his face exploded and snapped him completely awake with wide eyes, the hangover now the least of his worries.

“Oh, shit!” he strangled out as Kevin’s undeniable silhouette emerged from the trees by the barn. He quickly whipped his gun from the holster and fired a wild shot at the dark shadow while backing to the house’s front door. He fired one more shot and then slung the door open and fell inside, splinters flying as a bullet from Kevin’s gun imbedded in the door where his head was a second before.

Branson scrambled on hands and knees, one hand off the floor with his gun still in its grasp, towards the window. He collapsed against the wall, his back against the hard wood as his two cohorts finally clambered through the door.

The burly, bearded man fell back against the door as the lanky blond crawled to the other window. “Jesus Christ!” gasped the burly man, “I thought we had lost them!”

“Them?” shouted Branson, ducking reflexively as a bullet shattered the window above him, “Les, I only saw Richardson.”

Les shook his head as the lanky blond broke the glass of his window with his gun, then taking a shot out of it as he answered the question instead of Les, “Yeah, well, I had a shot at Richardson but that Spaniard came outta the trees and took a shot at me. I’d say they’re all here.” He risked a glance out the window, “Don’t know where that tracker is, though.”

“Kyle and me got in here after you when it got too hot out dere,” added Les, sending Branson a glare. “You sure didn’t waste any time runnin’ in here, Branson.”

Branson set his other gun beside him as he got on his knees and crouched beside the window. He caught a glimpse of black beside the empty shed to the house’s right front and fired off a shot, “Richardson wants my head on a platter, Les. He was gunnin’ for me and still is. So, yeah, I moved my ass outta the way.” Branson cocked his gun again and aimed it at Les, a dark glimmer in his gray eyes, “You got a problem with that?”

Les drew back, eyes wide, “No way, Branson. I’m good. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Branson switched his aim to the window, “Good, now start shootin’ at the bastards!”

Les mutely nodded his head and ran to and up the stairs. He dropped to his knees before a window and lifted it open. He gingerly looked out and then grinned at his clear view of the dark gunslinger crouching behind the shed in front of the house below. Les cocked his gun and aimed.

~/~/~( )~~~

The gunfire barely reached the attention of the people within the barn, they caught in their own struggle to stay alive.

Brian was breathing hard, his derringer aimed steadily at Arlen’s heart. The gambler had one bullet, the other having disappeared within the outlaw’s gun arm. The wounded man was on his knees and clutching his bleeding forearm, his rifle laying on the ground before him, unfired. Arlen stood frozen, shock clearly visible on his face as he stared down the barrel of the small gun.

“Don’t... move...” gasped the gambler, trying to calm his racing heart. Brian glanced at Nick, seeing the blond trying to get to his feet. Returning his eyes to Arlen, Brian carefully stood and then reached over to help Nick.

Nick gained his feet with the gambler’s help, Brian’s free arm remaining around his waist for support. Arlen suddenly smiled, listening to the gunfire volleying outside, “Come now, Mr. Littrell. You have nowhere to go. My men will shoot you down the moment you step out that door.”

Brian glanced behind them and saw the back door, he looked back at Arlen, Frederick standing forgotten to the side, “I doubt your men will be at the back door of this building, Mr. Morgan. Now, if you stay right where you are, we’ll just step outside and catch a bit of fresh air.”

As Brian began backing toward the door, towing Nick’s stumbling form with him, Arlen scowled. Then, unexpectedly, Arlen grabbed Frederick by the arm and pulled the old man in front of him, a gun suddenly in his hand and pressed beside the old man’s head.

“Stop right there,” Arlen growled, “You go out that door and the old man bites it.”

Nick straightened, staring at the two with wide eyes, “Let him go.”

Arlen smirked, “Give me your lives, and I’ll consider it.”

As Nick blinked at the scene, Brian narrowed his eyes at a soft noise. Glancing away from the standoff before him, Brian scanned the barn’s ceiling and walls, catching the barest movement at one of the small windows in the ceiling. Then, he heard the softest scuffle above him in the loft, not too far away from the trap door standing open above Arlen. Brian let a smirk fall on his features as he stared at Arlen, How very convenient.

“Give me that peashooter, gambler,” sneered Arlen, “You ain’t got anywhere to go.”

“No,” stated Brian flatly, staring directly into Frederick’s shocked features. If Frederick was seeing straight, he swore the gambler was asking him to trust him. Not knowing what to do, Frederick gave him a slight nod.

Nick pushed out of Brian’s hold, fixing him with hard eyes, “What are you doin’, Brian? Give him the damn gun! He’ll kill Frederick!”

“Yes,” snarled Arlen, tightening his hold on the old man, “Take my soon to be dead step-son’s advice, Mr. Littrell. It’s time to give it up, the game’s over and I’ve won.”

Brian shook his head, raising his derringer to bare aim at Arlen’s forehead. Nick tugged at Brian’s arm, the fever shining brightly in his blue eyes, “Brian, please... I can’t let Frederick die ‘cause of me... He was the only one that ever helped me... Brian, please...”

Arlen narrowed his eyes, his voice low, “I will count to three, and if you have not relinquished that gun to my possession by then, Frederick dies.” Arlen quirked an eyebrow at Brian as he counted, the gambler looked far too calm, “One... Two... Thr-” Dust and pieces of straw suddenly floated down on top of Arlen, “What the hell?” Arlen squinted above him and only hand time to widen his eyes before a huge shape came crashing down on top of him.

Arlen, Frederick, and something else collapsed to the ground. A dark form sprang to his feet, the buckskin coat giving the figure an identity.

AJ smiled down at Arlen’s gasping form. He picked up Arlen’s handgun and winked, saying in a haughty tone, “Three.”

“AJ!” screamed Brian’s southern accented voice in warning. AJ spun around, raising Arlen’s handgun to bare as a shot rang out.

The outlaw gasped, the rifle falling from nerveless fingers as he collapsed, face first, to the hard dirt floor. AJ quirked an eyebrow at Brian, who pocketed his now empty derringer. AJ nodded to him, “Thanks, pard’.”

“We’re even,” replied Brian, then his attention flew to Nick as he cried out.

“Arlen!” Nick moved forward, but stumbled and Brian had to lunge to stop him from falling, “Damn it!” gasped Nick, gritting his teeth, “He’s gettin’ away!”

AJ spun around again, just in time to see Arlen’s boot heels as they disappeared out the door. AJ threw Arlen’s handgun to Brian, who caught it as he pulled out his mare’s leg and grasped the door, “That bastard’s slipperier than a greased up pig.” AJ tossed Brian a glance, “Get the kid outta here, I’ll get after Mr. Uppity.”

At the nod from Brian, AJ slipped out the door. Brian looked at Nick, “I think you should sit down before we extricate ourselves from these unstable dwellings.”

As Nick sagged to the ground, he weakly pushed at Brian, “I’m fine. What about Frederick, is he okay?”

“I-I’m fine, Nickolas,” came a shaky, old voice. Frederick crawled to the blond’s side, “I’m so sorry about all this.”

“Ain’t yer fault,” toned Nick, then closed his eyes with a groan, “Somebody make the room stop spinnin’.”

A scoff escaped Brian’s throat, “Fine, huh? No one will be fine until we all leave.”

~/~/~( )~~~

Peering around the tree he crouched behind, Howie glanced up as a flash of sunlight caught his eye. He gasped when the source turned out to be the gleam of a gun’s barrel in the second story window. Then, Howie realized he didn’t have a shot at the outlaw and he could only shout a warning to his friend.

“Kevin!” The dark figure’s hat turned in the healer’s direction, “Twelve o’clock high!!”

Without looking, Kevin understood and in a desperate move, he whipped open the shed’s door and dove inside. As he fell to the ground within, Kevin heard the bullet thunk into the wood where he stood a moment before. Kevin scrambled back and kicked the door shut with his boots, taking a deep breath.

Carefully, Kevin picked himself up. That was too close. Now standing, Kevin quickly checked his guns. He scowled when he found a total of five bullets between the two and he was out of extra ammo. Then, Kevin took a moment to take in the shed’s interior. The color slowly drained from his face.

“Oh, shit.”

~/~/~( )~~~

Branson nearly laughed out loud. Maybe he did have some good luck in this. He turned to Kyle, “Grab the lantern and light it, Kyle.”

Confused, Kyle did as told. Branson nodded in the direction of the stairs, “Get on up them stairs and give the lantern to Les. He’ll know what ta do wit’ it.”

Kyle just nodded, running up the stairs, soon to return a couple minutes later. He went back to his post at the other window. Branson smirked, “Now, jus’ sit back and watch the show.”

~/~/~( )~~~

Kevin backed up a step. What the hell was he gonna do? The shed was filled with barrels of gunpowder. He jumped at a crashing sound above him. Soon, a very familiar crackling noise reached his ears.

“Ah, shit,” he muttered, “Shit, shit, shit. The roof’s on fire.”

Kevin’s green eyes widened as the flames were soon quickly visible as they ate through the old, dry wood of the rickety shed. The orange flames reflected in his shadowed green eyes as they shot down the walls and toward the barrels. It was only when one of the barrels caught that Kevin broke out of his fixation.

With a scream of anger, fear, and hate, Kevin shoved the flaming door open and fell out of the burning shed. He half crawled, half ran toward where Howie huddled behind a large tree to the side of the house.

“Kevin!” Howie called, desperately shooting cover fire in an effort to help Kevin’s mad dash.

Kevin gained his feet, stumbled, then picked himself up again. All the while, bullets shot the dust up at his feet and whizzed past his head. Kevin was halfway to Howie when the shed blew.

He fell to the ground once again, the shed exploding in a huge fire ball with the shock wave blowing out the house’s remaining windows. For a moment, the gunfire stopped. Kevin rolled around and stared at what once was a shed, now a pile of burning debris. Then, as if time had stopped and now resumed, bullets littered the ground around him.

Jumping to his feet, Kevin managed to join Howie in the tree’s cover. Howie gave him a quick glance, “What the hell was in there?”

Kevin scowled, “About four barrels worth of gunpowder.”

“That outlaw in the second story threw somethin’ down at the roof,” informed Howie, firing a shot at the house, “Figure it musta been a lantern.”

Kevin nodded, “You got much ammo left?”

Howie paused, then shook his head, “Got ‘bout four bullets left.” Howie finally got a clear shot at the second story gunman as he leaned out of the window. Howie fired off a shot. The outlaw jerked, then fell out of the window and to the porch’s roof, crashing through to land on the hard wood deck. Howie smiled, “Make that three.”

“And one less gunman,” smirked Kevin, unable to help himself. Then his face darkened, “I gotta get Branson. Somehow, I gotta get at him.”

~/~/~( )~~~

AJ stared at the black cloud of smoke floating up into the sky, fixated, “Damn.”

Then AJ got a glimpse of Arlen as he disappeared at the back of the house. Swearing at himself for being distracted, AJ crouched low and ran across the clearing to the rear of the house. He saw a door and carefully approached it. AJ pushed open the door slowly, looking into the room. It was empty.

AJ entered the house, seeing a room to his left, the door open and swaying. His brown eyes narrowed as he approached. He reached out and pushed open the door, just in time to see Arlen wrap an arm around a young, blond haired girl’s waist and grab the arm of a blond haired boy. The girl screamed.

“Stop!” cried AJ, bringing up his mare’s leg. He cocked the gun, “Let ‘em go.”

Arlen froze, staring at AJ’s gun, “Or what? You’ll shoot me? And risk hitting one of these innocent kids to get me? Are you willing to risk it?” In a sudden desperate move of a cornered criminal, Arlen thoughtlessly threw the blond haired boy to the floor, his free hand moving to his ankle in a blur.

AJ didn’t flinch as he pulled the trigger, the shot deafening in the room as the little girl screamed in fear, clutching her hands over her ears. Arlen stared at AJ in disbelief, the gun he’d pulled from his ankle holster falling to the floor as a blossom of red spread over his chest. Wordlessly, Arlen Morgan released his hold on the little girl and fell to the floor, dead with a bullet buried in his cold heart.

AJ lowered his gun, the barrel still smoking, “I never miss.”

Aaron rushed to his twin, who sobbed on her knees with small hands covering her face. AJ walked toward them, “You kids okay?”

Aaron looked up at AJ with wide brown eyes, “Yeah, we’re okay... Thank you.”

AJ smiled, “Hey, no problem. You two got names?”

Aaron nodded, “I’m Aaron and this is my twin sister, Angel.” Aaron paused, looking up at AJ, “Are you a friend of Nicky’s?”

AJ looked surprised, “Yeah, I am. Ya’ll know Nick?”

Aaron nodded and Angel finally looked up, her gaze watery and face tear streaked, “Nicky’s our older brother...” She paused and looked at Arlen’s body, “And that’s our father.”

AJ paled, “Oh, no...”

~/~/~( )~~~

The loud gunshot that came from behind Branson chilled him to the core. They had gotten in the house, gotten behind them. They were dead if they stayed where they were. They had to run. Branson looked at Kyle, “We haveta get outta here.”

“How?” asked Kyle, panic creeping into his voice.

“Just...” Branson ducked at a bullet striking the wood above his head, “Run!”

Branson leapt to his feet and ran to the window on the side of the room, throwing it open and climbing out. Kyle looked around him and saw no way out, he looked to the window.

“Okay!” he yelled out, throwing his gun out of the window, “I give up!”

No sooner than the words leaving his mouth did the front door crash open, the dark clothed Kevin Richardson standing rigid at the threshold. Kevin’s hard green eyes scanned the room. All he saw was Kyle. Without a word, Kevin closed in on the outlaw and grabbed a handful of his shirt, pulling the man from the floor, “Where’s Branson?!”

Kyle wanted to shrink back from the cold rage in the green eyes, but forced out an answer so that the man would let him go without killing him, “H-he went out the window there... Just a minute ‘fore you came in here.”

Kevin dropped him, the outlaw’s legs failing to support him in his fear. Kevin laid glaring eyes on Howie as he came through the door, “Tie him up, I’m goin’ after Branson.”

Howie’s eyes followed Kevin as he stalked from the house, murder blatant on the dark features. Shaking his head, Howie used his belt and the outlaw’s belt to tie the man’s hands and feet, not wanting to waste time going to their horses for rope. Howie had to stop Kevin before he destroyed himself in trying to destroy Branson.