Free A Texas Hill Country Christmas by William W. Johnstone Page B

furiously and somehow found the strength for one more charge. Seth didn’t hit him this time. He just stepped out of the way. Dugan lost his balance and fell, plowing the mud with his face again.
    â€œThat’s it,” Andrews barked. “Get him!”
    The three cowboys had just started toward Seth when a loud boom froze them in their tracks.
    It wasn’t thunder, although there had been some of that with the storms over the past few weeks. This blast came from a shotgun. Delta Kennedy held it in her hands with the twin barrels pointed toward the overcast sky. She lowered the weapon and said in a ragged voice, “That’s enough! No more fighting!”
    The shotgun was aimed mostly at the three cowboys, but where Seth was he found himself staring down the barrels, too. He said, “Uh, Mrs. Kennedy, you might want to be careful—”
    â€œThis gun won’t go off unless I want it to,” Delta snapped. “I’ve had to shoot enough rattlesnakes and run off enough coyotes to know what I’m doing. Now somebody roll Mr. Dugan over before he drowns in that mud.”
    Seth was the closest, so he bent down and grasped Dugan’s shoulder with both hands. He rolled the man onto his back. Dugan gasped for air. Seth wiped some of the mud away from his mouth and nose so he could breathe easier.
    â€œYou’re gonna be sorry you jumped the boss like that, preacher man,” Andrews said coldly.
    â€œHe went after me first,” Seth said as he straightened. “I just defended myself.”
    â€œAnd I’ll back up Mr. Barrett’s story to anyone who cares to ask,” Delta said. She frowned at Seth and added, “Although you didn’t have to defend yourself quite so . . . ruthlessly.”
    Seth understood what she meant, but a part of him disagreed with her. When a man was attacked, surviving was all that mattered. If that meant fighting back as hard and brutally as he could, then so be it.
    He tamped those impulses down and forced himself to nod.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he said. “I guess I just got carried away.”
    â€œCarried away, nothin’!” Charlie exclaimed, wide-eyed with excitement. “You whipped him good!”
    â€œCharlie, get in the wagon,” Delta said.
    â€œAw, Ma—”
    â€œIn the wagon.”
    As Charlie obeyed, his mother went on to the cowboys, “You’d better pick up Mr. Dugan, get him on his horse, and take him home. He’ll need to be cleaned up and have any injuries attended to. I think his nose may be broken.”
    If it wasn’t, thought Seth, it wasn’t from lack of trying on his part.
    Delta finally lowered the shotgun as the three ranch hands went to help Dugan, but she didn’t put it back in the wagon where she had gotten it. Seth wasn’t surprised she had brought the weapon with her when she went to Truesdale’s store. The Hill Country was still wild enough that a person could run into trouble here and needed to be prepared.
    The men got Dugan on his feet and half-dragged, half-carried him over to the big black horse he had ridden up on. With much grunting and straining, they lifted him into the saddle. Dugan was still in a stupor, but when Andrews wrapped his hands around the saddle horn, he hung on and kept from falling, although he still swayed some.
    The cowboys mounted up. Andrews took Dugan’s reins to lead the horse. He glared at Seth and said, “This ain’t over, preacher man.”
    â€œYou know where to find me,” Seth said coolly.
    â€œYeah. Hidin’ in that church.”
    â€œI’m a little surprised you know where it is. I haven’t seen you there.” Seth smiled faintly. “But I’ll come out anytime you want to talk to me.”
    â€œIt ain’t talkin’ I got in mind.”
    Andrews jerked his horse to the side. He and his companions rode around the wagon and plodded on in the direction they had