Water in a Time of Thirst

Chapter Fifteen

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The cans sitting on the fallen tree log flew one by one as Armis landed every target—a rifle in hand. The grin he wore illuminated his face. Despite the pain still lingering in his injured arm, his accuracy remained the same. Plus, he loved showing off the skills their father taught him. It reminded people not to underestimate them, and beside him, Everleigh slung her knives at the rotten apples plotted on a low hanging tree branch. Coyote stood back, twisting tiny tendrils of his beard, his eyes bouncing from sibling to sibling, studying them. 

Corbin, however, kept his sights on Armis. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, the man was intimidating with a gun. It was as if he were a pendulum, programmed ever so perfectly to swing without error. 

Armis shot the last can and lowered the rifle with the barrel aimed downward. “Who’s next?”

“How about we make this more interesting?” Coyote replied. “We’ll spread out some targets and you guys can show us your Butch Cassidy ways.”

Everleigh and Armis glanced at each other with a grin. Obstacle courses weren’t new to them. When they were young, their father created new challenges every day to prepare them for sticky situations. Certainly whatever Coyote had in mind would be a piece of cake. 

While he and Corbin arranged the targets, they stood back to back in the tall grass with eyes closed, giggling over memories of their father’s crazy ideas. Like the time he made them jump off the roof and land on hay, all while shooting at the target on the weather vane.

“Alright, you can peek now,” Coyote announced. 

Both siblings opened their eyes and kept their backs together. Without a word between them, they knew what to do, as if their father’s voice was whispering in their ear. Keeps your backs together. Lock onto your targets. Pick them off from the outside and make your way to the middle. Dig into the madness.

They were ready to show off when Domino’s horse began stomping the ground and grunting. In the distance birds vacated a tree, cawing as they flew away. Armis lowered his weapon, his brows furrowed, and motioned for Everleigh to do the same.

“Down. Get down.” Coyote signaled as he crouched in the tall grass.

They all sunk low and listened as Coyote’s wide, alert eyes scanned the acreage. Everleigh squeezed Armis’s hand, and he squeezed back. It was an all too familiar feeling of danger lurking and causing the hair on her neck to grow slick with sweat. Corbin did a crab-like crawl toward them and nestled by Everleigh’s side, cradling her with his arm.

“Here. Take this,” she said, shoving a spare gun in his hand. 

“I’m not that good at shooting,” he admitted in a whisper. 

“Here’s the safety.” She guided his finger to the switch on the side. Then she smoothed his finger down toward another switch. “This releases the bullets in the grip. Right now it’s full, but here’s an extra clip. Aim for something big. Limbs, head, chest. It’s harder to miss that way.”

“That easy, huh?”

“It’s as good as it gets for now.”

A rumble of car engines echoed through the field, and Coyote rose upright, his shotgun aimed at the oncoming visitors.

“We got company. Don’t mention a word about that truck,” he said over his shoulder.

“Who’s coming?” Corbin asked.

“Looks like the Sheriff.” Coyote gestured for them to stand. “Just let me do the talking. Not sure why he’s here, but I’m hoping it’s harmless. He’s a friend of mine.”