Where the Four Winds Meet, a Humorous Western Super Romance - Page 6

Farrell heard him echo a deep, impatient sigh.

"So now you intend to kill me," he mocked through the growing darkness.  It was more so a statement than a question.

"That is exactly what I intend to do, Mr. Nighthorse."

"Keytow!" Leif yelled out and Farrell watched, totally stupefied as a rifle came spiraling through the air, connecting with Leif's gloved hand.

She tensed as he cocked and aimed at her, then drawled, "Shoot at will, my dear, but I'll be damned if I'm going out without a fight."

"Better give it up, lassie," English drawled, mere inches from her.

"Shut up, English!" she clipped out in a heated rush, her eyes discerning the taut figure of the man before her.  His eyes were unmoving, looking at her, yet not.  And she could no more guess his thoughts than she could that of the eagle.

Her shallow voice was coming in light pants as he shattered the silence with the thick, deep voice once more.

"Well?  What's wrong Ms. Lucky Shot? Losing your nerve, are you?" he mocked and Hiram echoed a smug laugh from where he was planted, only a few yards away now.

Farrell sprang off a reckless shot at the smug-looking Hiram which landed only an inch in front of his large booted foot and he fainted into a heap on the bare ground.

Before she knew what was happening, she was suddenly thrown to the ground and the rifle dislodged from her small hands.  Her mane of white-gold hair was bathed liberally in the dust and she coughed and blinked through the fog, trying to focus, fighting the loose earth and the oncoming darkness - trying to do her great grandfather proud and failing miserably.

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