Wildcat Mountain

Chapter 11

"I got me a mind to pick you off where you are an' let the scavengers clean up after, Jet! I don't owe you mercy! I didn't start this; you brought the fight to me!"

"We'll leave off today!" This came from Barnes, who lay out in scorching heat. He was held there by Faith's bullets, which kicked dust in his eyes every time he flinched.

"Leave off?" Travis scoffed bitterly, "I should come down there and rip you apart, Barnes!"

An ugly feeling was clawing its way up his throat, strangling any cool reasoning he had. The feeling that had turned him into a feared gunfighter, that had kept him alive the countless times he should have died and didn't. Grinding his jaw hard enough to make his temple throb, Red fought to control his temper.

"You know what, Barnes? Today is your lucky day! I ain't gonna worry about sidewinders like you an' Ludlow right now! I'll settle with you boys another day. Everyone but Jet, get, before I change my mind!" Emphasizing his words with a hail of bullets that spattered around the men, he coldly watched as they ran for their horses.

Faith sent them flying with a flurry of shots at the horse's hooves, watching as they lit out at a dead run. After the pounding hooves faded, she glanced at Travis. His eyes were on fire, fixed to where Jet lay out of sight. It gave her goosebumps.

"Now you, Fennell! You come out nice and slow!"

"I ain't comin out so you can shoot me down!" Despite the anger in his voice, there was fear also. Red's chuckle was black.

"Yeah, you will."

Doing her part, the young woman bounced a bullet in among the rocks where Fennell lay hidden. He jumped into sight like he'd been bitten by a snake, hands up. Blood seeped from the burn across his thigh where Travis had winged him.

"Alright, alright! I'm here, Red! Go ahead, take the shot!"

Standing up, Travis leisurely moved down the slope so that Fennell could see him. Dropping the rifle, he stood with his hands loose at his sides. Blue fire glowed in his eyes.

"I'm not gonna shoot you, Fennell. I'm gonna whip you within an inch of your life an' watch you crawl off like the maggot you are."

Jet Fennell laughed derisively throwing his head back.

"You ain't got a chance of lickin' me! I boxed for a livin' on the streets of Chicago and the Louisiana bayous. You gonna get cut down, Red!"

"Then you got nothing to worry about! Shuck your guns and we'll sort this out." That familiar reckless welled to the surface, that wild love of battle that drove him when he was boxed into a corner. Dropping his gun belt when Fennell did, the two stepped forward, facing off.

"I bet you haven't had a decent fight in years," he taunted. "You're too big, scarin' off any challengers. Well, I've been in more scrapes that I can count, Jet! I'm gonna tear down your storehouse!"

Fennell lunged forward, surprisingly swift for a man his size but Rivers' hands were up. He shot a jarring blow to the mouth that smashed Fennell's lips against his teeth. A lesser man would've staggered back, but Fennell was not a lesser man. He didn't even flinch.

A hardened fist caught Red a shattering blow as he ducked to escape the punch. Rolling to the side he retaliated with a right to the heart. It was solid, and planting his feet wide and flat, he rolled his hips, hooking a left into Fennell's belly. Instantly dropping into a half crouch, he launched a wide right that caught Jet across his temple. The blows were hard, and they hurt. Fennel shook his head as if to clear it and set his feet, smiling though broken lips, in his element.