Renegades and Stubborn Pride (sequal to Renegades and Pretty Women)

Chapter Thirty

“Uncle Reb, are you okay?” Clayton asked as he walked beside his uncle and frowned at the way the man kept grunting and wincing in pain.  

                “Yeah, kid, I’m just fine.” Reb replied as he positioned himself beside Clayton and Clayton knew he was trying to block his view of the dead bodies in the dining room.

                Clayton coughed as smoke filled his lungs and he could feel the heat from the flames currently burning up the dining room. The smell was strange and almost pleasant which was disgusting considering that scent was bodies burning and smoldering.

                Clayton’s bravery was beginning to fade. He was hungry. He was tired. His head hurt and his ribs ached. His Uncle Bart was dead and Clayton had seen it! He had seen Bear pull the trigger and shoot his uncle in the head.  

                He just wanted to get into a bed, cuddle up to his ma and pa and feel safe and warm again.

                “Yer ma and pa’ll be just fine, Clayton. It shouldn’t take ‘em long and then we’ll be able to get home.”  Reb said comfortingly as they stepped from the house and Clayton took big gulping lung fulls of the fresher air.  Though the smell of blood, gunpowder, smoke and burning flesh was out here as well.

                Clayton’s jaw trembled and he cursed himself. He weren’t no baby! But all he wanted to do was curl up and cry. Fatigue was setting in and he was hurting awfully bad. Clayton didn’t reply to his Uncle Reb, knowing that if he tried to speak just now he would probably end up crying and he wanted Uncle Reb to believe that he was tough.

                A sound to his left had his head whipping around and he cried out with shock when he saw a man covered in blood limping quickly toward him. The man’s face was singed black, his clothes were torn and soaked in crimson red, and his lips were pulled back in a pain filled sneer.

                “Shit, I’m outta bullets!” Reb exclaimed as he tried to grab Clayton and move him out of the way but Clayton stood firm and raised the .38 his pa had given him just as the bloody man raised a gun of his own. The man was close now….. ten feet, nine feet, eight feet…. Clayton’s hands were shaking terribly but it seemed the bloody man was out of bullets well.

                Clayton heard him let out a raspy bellow of rage which was silenced quickly when Clayton squeezed the trigger of that double action revolver and the roar of a bullet deafened them all.

                Clayton had shut his eyes when he’d pulled the trigger and his trembling hand dropped the gun to the ground as he kept his eyes squeezed tight and began to rock back and forth. A tear slipped down his cheek as he prayed he’d killed the man while feeling vomit rise in his throat at the thought.

                Then he felt his uncle Reb’s hand resting on his shoulder. “Good job, Clayton.”

                “Is he dead?” Clayton asked without opening his eyes. He had them shut so tight that it hurt but he didn’t want to see…. He didn’t want to see another dead person ever, not for as long as he lived.

                “Yeah, kid, he’s dead.” Reb replied gently. “Come on now, I’ll get ya out of here.” Clayton nodded and heard Reb pick up the dropped revolver before guiding Clayton back down the yard toward the broken gate and the freedom that lay beyond.

                Clayton decided right then and there that he was tired of being so grown up and smart. First thing he was gonna do when he got home was be a regular kid and chase a chicken.