Free Comstock Cross Fire by Gary Franklin

sliding along its rough side. “Sure wish that it wasn’t so damned dark!”
    â€œThere has to be a lantern in the barn. You’ve got matches?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œAll right,” Eli said. “Don’t waste any time in there. We need to get a couple of horses saddled . . . just in case.”
    â€œYeah, just in case.”
    Eli stood at the corner of the barn trying to ignore the pounding of his heart. He clutched the heavy Sharps rifle, and knew that he could hit any of those dancing firefly lights when they came upon the plowed field. But he was hoping that somehow he wouldn’t have to do that. If he killed farmers, they might become that much more determined for justice and hang him and Dalton for certain. But, dammit, they were still coming and somehow they had to be stopped!
    It seemed to take forever before Dalton stumbled out of the cavernous barn and announced, “No saddles, brother, but I found a pair of halters that we could use to make bridles and reins. Jeezus, they’re really getting close now!”
    â€œIgnore their lanterns and cut loose that fractious gray horse that was giving us so much trouble leaving Moroni.”
    â€œBut he’s probably the only true saddle horse of the four!” Dalton protested.
    â€œHe’s fractious and too high-spirited to ride bareback without even a bit between his teeth. He’d likely start bucking if you jumped on him.”
    â€œNo!” Dalton cried. “He’s the best horse of the four. The only one that looks like he has any speed. He’s the one that I’ll ride, if we have to make a run for it.”
    Eli knew that there were times when it was impossible to argue with his younger brother. Dalton would get his back up and become so stubborn that he’d do what he’d do no matter what was said or done.
    â€œAll right,” Eli told his brother. “Halter that big gray horse for yourself and then halter that black one for me to ride.”
    â€œJust in case.”
    â€œYeah, just in case. Bit ’em with the rope around the jaw Indian style and hurry it up!”
    â€œOkay,” Dalton said. “You gonna start shooting pretty quick? They’re in the range of your Sharps now.”
    â€œI’m gonna fire a shot over their heads and scatter them,” Eli told his brother. “After they hear the roar of this big buffalo rifle, I’m sure that they’ll turn tail and run back to Moroni.”
    Dalton actually giggled. “Sure they will! Why, I sure wish I could stand and watch them lights disappearin’ in the dark.”
    â€œJust get the gray and the black haltered and Indian-bitted,” Eli said, raising the Sharps rifle and taking aim at a spot maybe twenty yards in front of the lead light.
    He fired, and two bad things instantly happened. His slug must have struck a field rock and ricocheted upward, because one of the lights dropped and a Mormon screamed. And right after that, the gray horse reared and knocked Dalton into the barn wall with such force that Eli knew that his younger brother would be stunned, maybe even hurt.
    Eli turned and saw Dalton stagger and somehow manage to hang on to the lead ropes of the two chosen escape horses.
    â€œYou all right?” Eli asked.
    â€œYeah, I guess. A little woozy, but I’ll be all right. Are they all runnin’ away, Eli? Are they all runnin’ back to Moroni like scared rabbits?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWell, well, what did they do?”
    â€œThey doused their lights and I can’t see any of them out there anymore.”
    â€œWell, that must be because they’re running back to town!” Dalton cried.
    â€œI don’t think so,” Eli told him. “I think they’re creeping up on us while staying low in the corn rows.”
    â€œBut—”
    Whatever Dalton was about to ask was interrupted by a fusillade of bullets and muzzle flashes. Both brothers