To Reap and to Sow (18 page)

Clint raced back toward the house and circled around to the front. Since he'd managed to get out of their sights with his last couple of turns, he was able to work his way to the gate directly in front of the farmhouse. Hopefully, everyone else had had enough time to get to the spots they'd all practiced.

As soon as Clint bolted through the gate, he held his breath and prayed that nobody would take a panicked shot at him. No shots came, so he kept riding toward the barn. He didn't make it there before the riders cleared the field behind him.

Smalls led the way and fired his pistol while standing up in his stirrups. He shouted like a crazed barbarian and thundered straight toward the barn.

Vincent and John were close behind Smalls, and they rode toward the house. That path also put them in the clear, which set them up almost as well as a pair of bottles in a field.

Lynn's first shot caught John in the shoulder. It wasn't fatal, but it hit with more than enough force to knock him off his horse. Her second shot came soon after, but hissed through the air past Vincent's head.

John hit the ground on his side and spat all the air from his lungs in one pained grunt. It was a struggle to get to his feet, but once he did he immediately started running toward the barn. He was about three paces from the front barn doors when a petite figure leaned out of the small square window that opened from the stable's loft.

With the shotgun already against her shoulder, Tina sighted along the barrels and pulled both triggers. The impact knocked her back into the loft, but she sent enough buckshot into the air to cut John down where he stood.

Several pellets hit John in the legs and back. Those, combined with the wounds he'd already taken, ended his run right then and there.

Vincent fired up toward the house's roof, but hit nothing more than a few shingles and an attic window. When he heard the shotgun, he turned in that direction while swinging his pistol around as well. He still couldn't see anyone to shoot at, which brought a mix of anger and confusion to his face.

“Hey, boy,” Wes said as he emerged from the house's front door.

Vincent turned and took aim at the old farmer. He pulled his trigger at the same time that Wes pulled his.

Both men drew blood and both men hit the ground hard.

 

As soon as he'd ridden around to the back of the barn, Smalls jumped down from his saddle and ran for the rear door. “This the spot, Mark?”

Mark and Joey had been sure to come in behind the other three, so they'd only just arrived. Mark nodded, but couldn't get his eyes to stay focused on one spot for very long. “Yeah, but that other one should be right—”

“Right here,” Clint said as he pulled open the barn door. Eclipse was behind him and off to the right side where he could watch things unfold from a fairly safe distance.

“Hand over the gold and we'll leave in peace,” Smalls said.

Clint scowled and looked at Smalls as if he'd heard a bad joke. “Too late to make that promise, don't you think?”

“All right then. How about you hand over the gold and I let you and all these farmers live?”

“I don't think you've got the firepower to back that up,” Clint replied.

Smalls looked around and then waited for a few seconds, but all he heard was the thunder of the previous gunshots rolling farther away. “I got all I need right here,” Smalls said as he tightened his fist around his pistol.

That subtle bit of motion was enough to make Clint's entire body tense.

Smalls reacted to that by reflexively lowering his arm before he got himself shot.

“There's no gold in here,” Clint said. “Take a look for yourself.”

“It's right there under those rags,” Mark shouted.

Stepping sideways toward the little pile of rags in the corner, Smalls tapped it with his toe and kicked some of the rags aside. All he found underneath was straw and a wooden floor.

“There was gold, I swear!” Mark groaned.

Gritting his teeth, Smalls let out a snarl that eventually formed into some words. “There's something you're all guarding and I aim to find it. Even if I have to burn this whole fucking place to the ground!”

As he uttered that vow, Smalls brought up his gun to make good on it.

Clint's arm snapped up and he aimed the modified Colt as if he was pointing his finger. He pulled the trigger once, which was enough to send a single round through Smalls's skull.

Even before Smalls had dropped, Mark was rushing into the barn. “It's here, goddammit. I know it's here!”

“Just leave, Mark,” Lynn said as she stepped through the front door of the barn. Her face and dress were smudged from climbing up and down from the roof, but she still looked good enough to capture all of Mark's attention.

“You're coming back with me,” Mark said as he rushed toward her.

Clint shifted his aim and thumbed back his hammer. Sure enough, the metallic click from the pistol was enough to stop Mark in his tracks.

Still, Mark reached out for Lynn and locked his eyes upon her.

As she walked past Clint, Lynn patted him on the shoulder. “It's all right. I need to have another word with him.”

“I thought I saw Wes get shot,” Clint said.

“He did, but it's just a flesh wound. Tina's tending to him right now.”

“You probably should let me take care of these two.”

“No,” Lynn insisted. “I need to finish this.”

Clint let her get closer to him, but kept his Colt aimed at Mark's chest. One stern glare was all it took to get Joey to drop his gun and raise his arms.

“I'm not going with you, Mark,” Lynn said. “Not now. Not ever.”

“But I did all this for you. All of it!”

“Like shooting at my friends and coming here to kill these good people?”

“Yeah,” Mark replied. “For you!”

“You're a sick son of a bitch,” Lynn spat.

Mark pulled back his hand and snarled, “Dirty bitch!” He got through half of a swing intended to knock her head from her shoulders before Lynn's rifle went off and dropped him to his knees.

As much as he wanted to scream, Mark didn't have enough breath to make a sound. All he could do was lie on his side, curl into a ball and grab at the bloody pulp of his groin.

Taking advantage of the cold sweat that had broken out on Joey's brow, Clint said, “If you spread any more lies about there being gold on this farm, you'll get the same as your friend.”

“I ain't never seen that gold,” Joey stammered. “Please just take me to a jail far away from her.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

Clint then walked over to Lynn and moved her away so he could take Mark's gun.

The look in Lynn's eyes was cold and distant as she said, “I did the bastard a favor. He never knew what to do with that thing of his anyway.”