Free Ball and Chain by J. R. Roberts Page B

be seen until they fired. The moment Clint saw another muzzle flash, he sighted in on it and returned fire. He followed that up with another quick shot that punched through one of the trees.
    â€œYou can’t get us both!” Acklund shouted as he ran from the tree that had just been hit.
    Clint was about to squeeze his trigger when he heard a twig snap to his immediate left. He turned to find Mose creeping up on him from that side. The blond man must have circled around the house to flank Clint from and damn near pulled his trick off before Clint turned and fired. The Colt bucked against Clint’s hand, but Mose had already ducked back around the house. Splinters flew and Mose let out a pained moan.
    â€œMy damn eye!” Mose wailed.
    â€œNow!” Acklund hollered. “Shoot the bastard!”
    Now that he knew where both men were, Clint ran across the porch to put some distance between himself and both of the brothers. His eyes were becoming accustomed to the dark, so Clint was able to pick out Acklund’s shape crouching against a tree. Clint aimed at that shape and fired, knowing that he’d probably missed.
    With Clint away from the window, Acklund had to wait for his own eyes to adjust. Unlike Clint, however, he didn’t seem too concerned with picking his shots or who else might get hit along the way. Standing up and hopping away from his tree to clear his line of fire, Acklund pointed his six-shooter at Clint and pulled the trigger as quickly as he could.
    The .38 barked again and again, illuminating Acklund’s face with a constant flow of sparks. When Clint’s entire body whipped around with enough force to make him stagger against the side of the house, Acklund shouted, “I told you I’d get you, asshole! That was for Dave!”
    Mose ran around the front of the house with his pistol held at the ready. Before he could get a clear shot at Clint, the front door came open again and Hank’s shotgun erupted once more. Mose pulled himself away from the door so quickly that his feet kicked out from under him and his backside landed heavily against the porch.
    Another shot cracked through the air as Acklund rushed toward his brother. That shot was soon answered by another blast from the shotgun, but both explosions were followed by the slap of hammers against spent shells.
    â€œShit!” both Acklund and Hank shouted at the same time.
    Both men needed to reload, but Hank’s shotgun would take a lot less time. The older man was spouting a steady stream of obscenities as he opened the shotgun, pulled out the empty shells, and struggled to get fresh ones in.
    Mose had fought to get to his feet by now and had his gun pointed at Hank.
    â€œForget about him,” Acklund said. “I already wounded that murdering asshole.”
    Mose grinned and lowered his pistol.
    By the time Hank closed his shotgun and pulled back the hammers, he no longer had a target. He nearly emptied one barrel at the sound of another gunshot coming from the side of the house. The only thing he could hear after that were frantic footsteps racing into the night.

EIGHTEEN
    As soon as Hank rounded the corner on the side of the house where Clint had last been seen, a shot was fired that nearly caused him to jump out of his britches. The sparks from the barrel blinded him for a few seconds and his ears were ringing louder than a set of church bells.
    â€œFor Christ’s sake, it’s just me!” the old man shouted.
    Clint was leaning against the side of the house as if his shoulder were the only thing keeping him up. His mouth moved, but Hank was still unable to hear anything. Although he saw Hank rubbing his ears and straining to pick out something through the rest of the noise, Clint didn’t lower his Colt.
    â€œMy fault,” Clint grumbled as he squinted to get a look at the figures that had bolted into the shadows.
    â€œWhat?” Hank asked.
    â€œNever mind. Where’d