Free Triumph of the Mountain Man by William W. Johnstone Page A

has the right to a gun. That they are the most evil things on earth.”
    Bobby bristled further. “You’re the liar. You ever hear of the Constitution? Smoke taught me real good. There’s a part of it that says, ‘ . . . the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.’ So there.”
    Mary-Beth’s eldest, Billy, narrowed his eyes and balled his small fists. “Think you’re one of those dirty, back-shootin’, coward gunfighters like Smoke Jensen?”
    That proved too much for Bobby. He swiftly closed the distance between himself and the other boy and gave his antagonist a two-handed shove to the chest. Rocked off his heels, twelve-year-old Billy stumbled backward. Bobby came right after him. Another push and Billy went sprawling out of the wash house. Bobby watched the other boy flail in the dirt a moment, then turned back and shrugged into his trousers. He came out of the building as Billy scrambled to his feet.
    Billy made the mistake of swinging the moment he saw Bobby. Young Jensen ducked and threw a punch of his own. It smacked Billy under the left eye. He cried out at the pain and then rushed Bobby. Bobby side-stepped and tripped Billy. At once, the older boy dropped down on his knees, astraddle the small of Billy’s back. Bobby began to drub his opponent on the shoulders. Billy made squealing, yelping sounds and kicked the toes of his boots against the ground. At last he found purchase enough to thrust upward and throw Bobby off of him.
    â€œDamn you, you don’t fight fair,” Billy sobbed, his dirt-smeared cheeks streaked with tears. He dived on Bobby before the older boy could get up.
    From there their fight degenerated into a lot of rolling around in the dirt. Bobby got a couple of good punches to Billy’s ribs. Then he clouted his opponent on the ear, which brought a howl of agony from Billy. Bobby wrestled himself around on top and began to drive work-hardened fists into Billy’s midriff. All pretense of toughness deserted Billy, and he began to wail in a pitiful voice.
    â€œHelp me! Momma, help me! Get him off, get him off.”
    The sudden commotion reached the ears of Sally Jensen and Mary-Beth Gittings where they sat on the porch, sipping at cups of jasmine tea. Mary-Beth’s face went blank, then white a moment, and she clutched at her heart. Half rising, she put her cup aside.
    â€œI think that’s Billy. Whatever could be happening?”
    Sally listened to the uproar a moment and picked out Bobby’s voice. “Yer a liar and a trespasser. Git the hell outta here.”
    Dryly she remarked to Mary-Beth, “I think he has met our youngest. We had better go see.”
    Together they headed in the direction of the wash house. The sight they saw made Sally Jensen ache, though inwardly she burned with pride for her adopted son. Bobby Jensen remained astride Billy Gittings, pounding him rhythmically. Billy was getting his tail kicked right properly. One eye showed the beginnings of a splendid mouse, and his nose had been bloodied. He sobbed wretchedly with each punch Bobby delivered. She could not let that go on, Sally realized at once. She hurried to the boys.
    â€œBobby, you stop that at once. Get off Billy this instant.” Embarrassment filled Sally Jensen as she dragged Bobby Jensen off Billy Gittings.
    Mary-Beth Gittings harbored entirely different emotions. Her voice became accusative and filled with indignation. Her son and Bobby each gave his version of what had started the fight. Her face red, she turned with hands on hips to lash out at Sally.
    â€œBilly is correct. No one has the right to own a gun except the police. I would certainly never allow a child of mine to have one.”
    Bobby remained defiant. “Then why did he try to steal mine?”
    Surly, though in control of his sobs and tears, Billy answered truculently. “I was gonna take it away from you and do what’s right