goddamn property or I’m gonna be doing myself some hunting. You’ve ten seconds and then I’m gonna give you two loadsa buckshot in the ass.’
I didn’t move, apart from to lift my empty hands higher. ‘Take it easy, Scott. I’m not here for trouble.’
‘Shame,’ he crowed. ‘’Cos if you ain’t outta here in ten seconds like I said, trouble’s coming your way.’ He leaned back towards the trailer door. ‘Boys, you want to come on out here?’
There was a rumble from within the caravan, and two more rednecks joined Scott on the decking. One was taller than Scott, an older man, while the second was short and stocky, bearded and with a prodigious gut poking out from the hem of his off-white shirt. The fat one had a liquor bottle in his hand, half empty; but perhaps that was just the pessimist in me. It looked like Scott had been keeping an all-night vigil, awaiting my arrival, and had called in his buddies just in case I did show up.
This could still end up reasonably, but I didn’t think so. The older guy was holding a baseball bat, whacking it into the leathery mitt of his palm. By the look of him, he was lining my head up for a swing. He didn’t worry me: I moved right up to the edge of the decking so that he couldn’t swing at me without first connecting with the uprights holding together the lean-to porch. The stocky one chugged another mouthful of whiskey. Scott made a big deal of pulling back the hammers on the antiquated shotgun.
‘I think if you let me explain myself, you’ll want to listen to what I have to say.’ I stood looking at him.
Scott glanced once at each of his friends. He’d promised them some fun, I guessed. ‘I’m starting to count now. Ten. Nine. Eight . . .’
‘Quit the melodramatics, Scott,’ I said. ‘We both know you’re not going to shoot.’
‘You don’t think so?’ Scott raised the stock to his shoulder.
I pulled out the S&W and aimed it at him. ‘No. You’re not.’
Scott licked his lips.
‘Neither are you, dick,’ said the fat guy. He took a cumbersome step down off the deck and stood in front of my gun. His grip had shifted on his bottle so that he now held it by the neck. ‘Now get the hell outta here before I kick your ass all the way back—’
Before he finished his threat I slapped the butt of my gun against his temple. The man dropped as though pole-axed, his knees folding under him so that he went down on his backside. Slowly he toppled sideways and I toed the bottle away, to avoid it ending up jammed in his open mouth.
‘Hey!’ The older guy came at me then. True to form he couldn’t get a good crack at me and had to weave past Scott to gain space. By the time he made room it was too late. I shot a sidekick into his front leg, straightening his knee, and as he jerked against the pain I snatched the bat out of his hand and threw it away. A slap of the gun butt to his head sent him down so he was lying across his fat buddy.
‘Are we all done now?’ I asked Scott.
He had taken a couple of steps back, the gun forgotten in his hands. Just as I thought, the weapon was all bluff. If he’d intended using a gun, he wouldn’t have brought the two so-called hard-asses in on the action.
‘Jesus, man, you knocked them out!’
‘I don’t care for people who make threats to me.’ I allowed my words to hang in the air and Scott finally figured them out.
‘I wasn’t really going to shoot.’ He slowly placed the shotgun down by the door to the trailer. ‘Even if I wanted. It doesn’t fire, and hasn’t done for years.’
Maybe he thought I wouldn’t notice that the barrels were plugged when he pointed them at my face. Things like that don’t go unnoticed by someone who’s been on both ends of guns for the past twenty years or so. I shoved my S&W away. ‘Come here, Scott.’
‘What are you planning to do?’
‘Don’t you think we’d best get your friends inside if we’re going to talk? It wouldn’t do to leave them lying
I didn’t move, apart from to lift my empty hands higher. ‘Take it easy, Scott. I’m not here for trouble.’
‘Shame,’ he crowed. ‘’Cos if you ain’t outta here in ten seconds like I said, trouble’s coming your way.’ He leaned back towards the trailer door. ‘Boys, you want to come on out here?’
There was a rumble from within the caravan, and two more rednecks joined Scott on the decking. One was taller than Scott, an older man, while the second was short and stocky, bearded and with a prodigious gut poking out from the hem of his off-white shirt. The fat one had a liquor bottle in his hand, half empty; but perhaps that was just the pessimist in me. It looked like Scott had been keeping an all-night vigil, awaiting my arrival, and had called in his buddies just in case I did show up.
This could still end up reasonably, but I didn’t think so. The older guy was holding a baseball bat, whacking it into the leathery mitt of his palm. By the look of him, he was lining my head up for a swing. He didn’t worry me: I moved right up to the edge of the decking so that he couldn’t swing at me without first connecting with the uprights holding together the lean-to porch. The stocky one chugged another mouthful of whiskey. Scott made a big deal of pulling back the hammers on the antiquated shotgun.
‘I think if you let me explain myself, you’ll want to listen to what I have to say.’ I stood looking at him.
Scott glanced once at each of his friends. He’d promised them some fun, I guessed. ‘I’m starting to count now. Ten. Nine. Eight . . .’
‘Quit the melodramatics, Scott,’ I said. ‘We both know you’re not going to shoot.’
‘You don’t think so?’ Scott raised the stock to his shoulder.
I pulled out the S&W and aimed it at him. ‘No. You’re not.’
Scott licked his lips.
‘Neither are you, dick,’ said the fat guy. He took a cumbersome step down off the deck and stood in front of my gun. His grip had shifted on his bottle so that he now held it by the neck. ‘Now get the hell outta here before I kick your ass all the way back—’
Before he finished his threat I slapped the butt of my gun against his temple. The man dropped as though pole-axed, his knees folding under him so that he went down on his backside. Slowly he toppled sideways and I toed the bottle away, to avoid it ending up jammed in his open mouth.
‘Hey!’ The older guy came at me then. True to form he couldn’t get a good crack at me and had to weave past Scott to gain space. By the time he made room it was too late. I shot a sidekick into his front leg, straightening his knee, and as he jerked against the pain I snatched the bat out of his hand and threw it away. A slap of the gun butt to his head sent him down so he was lying across his fat buddy.
‘Are we all done now?’ I asked Scott.
He had taken a couple of steps back, the gun forgotten in his hands. Just as I thought, the weapon was all bluff. If he’d intended using a gun, he wouldn’t have brought the two so-called hard-asses in on the action.
‘Jesus, man, you knocked them out!’
‘I don’t care for people who make threats to me.’ I allowed my words to hang in the air and Scott finally figured them out.
‘I wasn’t really going to shoot.’ He slowly placed the shotgun down by the door to the trailer. ‘Even if I wanted. It doesn’t fire, and hasn’t done for years.’
Maybe he thought I wouldn’t notice that the barrels were plugged when he pointed them at my face. Things like that don’t go unnoticed by someone who’s been on both ends of guns for the past twenty years or so. I shoved my S&W away. ‘Come here, Scott.’
‘What are you planning to do?’
‘Don’t you think we’d best get your friends inside if we’re going to talk? It wouldn’t do to leave them lying
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