Free To Reap and to Sow by J. R. Roberts Page A

someone moving toward the barn. The figure was a ways off and closer to the house than to him. Even so, Clint could see enough to realize it didn’t look like Wes. Since it wasn’t wearing a dress, it sure didn’t look like either of the women.
    â€œWho’s out there?” he asked.
    Nobody answered, but the figure did turn to look at him. By now, Clint could make out a few more details. The man looked younger and vaguely familiar, but there were still too many shadows around him for Clint to be sure of much more than that.
    Letting his hand drift toward the Colt holstered at his side, Clint stepped forward. “Come on over here where I can see you.”
    The figure froze in his tracks and started to back away. His head kept twitching back and forth between Clint and the farthest comer of the barn.
    As Clint looked toward the barn as well, he spotted another figure from the corner of his eye. This one was a bit closer, so Clint could make out a few details. The moment he caught a glimpse of a gun in the figure’s hand, Clint drew the Colt and pivoted toward the barn.
    The figure close to the barn fired a quick shot and ducked back behind some cover.
    The figure out in the open, the first one Clint had spotted, drew a gun and started firing. The shots blazed through the air in quick succession, but were too wild to hit much more than the barn and stable.
    With every muzzle flash, Clint was able to get a better look at the man’s face. It wasn’t long before he’d seen enough to realize who the person was. Once he knew that, Clint also knew who the other man must be.
    â€œYou came all this way to stir up more trouble, Mark?” Clint shouted as he ducked into the stable and peeked around the door. “You keep pushing your luck and you’ll wind up dead.”
    â€œYou’re the dead man!” Mark shouted as he leaned out and fired another couple of shots.
    Those rounds punched through the door frame not far from Clint’s head. Although no blood had been drawn, the bullets came close enough to force Clint to back into the stable a bit more.
    â€œThat’s him!” Joey shouted as he fired the rest of his shots at the stable.
    â€œI can see that, dammit!” came the reply from Mark.
    Clint grinned and shook his head, wondering if those idiots would shoot themselves before they got a clear shot at him. Suddenly, he realized what had brought him outside in the first place and where Mark was at the moment.
    â€œDamn,” Clint hissed under his breath as he hunkered down low and took another look outside.
    As soon as Clint got a look at Joey scampering toward the barn, he saw a flash of sparks coming from the house. The flash was followed by the unmistakable roar of a shotgun.
    â€œWhoever you are, get the hell off my property!” Wes shouted from where he stood just outside the house.
    Joey didn’t know which way to run. Although he wanted to get to the barn, he’d almost been shot for that. He couldn’t exactly run away from the barn, since that would bring him closer to the house. His horse must have been tied up behind the house as well, because he nearly tripped over himself to turn around that way.
    Hoping to force Joey to make a decision before Wes reloaded, Clint aimed and sent a round at Joey’s feet. The bullet punched into the ground within inches of Joey’s boots, causing him to hop and start running like a noisy target in a shooting gallery.
    As humorous as that sight may have been, Clint didn’t have time to laugh before he was forced to do some scrambling of his own. A bullet from Mark’s gun drilled into the stable door and sent splinters raining down on Clint’s head. Rather than cower back like Mark surely wanted, Clint steeled himself and charged forward instead.
    Mark’s gun barked two more times, putting a few rounds closer than Clint had anticipated.
    Hot lead hissed past Clint’s ear, and another