Only 04 - Only Love

shootin’,” Floyd said. “Must have been near a thousand yards. Sure never saw hide nor hair of him, neither.”
    “All we done is try to be friendly-like to hiswife,” Clim said. “Follow her an’ see she got home safe.”
    “Yeah. We was bein’ neighborly.” Beau smiled, showing a line of sharp, uneven teeth. “Like now. Right neighborly. Thinkin’ warm thoughts about birds and tight little nests.”
    “Downright hot nest, I’ll bet,” Darcy mumbled.
    “Stuck-up bitch,” Clim muttered.
    “Murphy,” Whip said sharply. “Start measuring that flour instead of staring at it. I’m getting tired of hearing dogs break wind.”
    “Huh?” Clim said.
    For a few moments there was silence while the Culpeppers tried to figure out if they had been insulted, and if so, how.
    Murphy slammed the lid back on the flour barrel and walked slowly to the front of the store. He was carrying a small sack of flour over one shoulder and a much smaller bag of salt in his left hand.
    “Do you think she yells?” Darcy asked no one in particular.
    “What you yammerin’ about now?” Beau demanded.
    “Her, what else?” Darcy said impatiently. “When the old fart bends her over a chair and goes to rutting on her, does she fight and yelp and beg for mercy, or does she just let him do it any way he wants and whimper for more like a bitch in heat?”
    Darcy will be the second one, Whip decided.
    A subtle movement of Whip’s right shoulder dislodged the bullwhip’s coils, sending them sliding down his right arm. His left hand closed around the butt of the long lash as the coils fell toward the floor.
    The bullwhip came alive.
    With each small motion of Whip’s left hand, waves of energy rippled through the bullwhip, making the long, slender length of the lash seethe and whisper delicately like a snake gliding through dead grass.
    Whip began whistling softly through his teeth, looking at nothing, yet seeing every move the four Culpeppers made. None of them noticed. They had already decided Whip was no threat.
    Last chance, boys. Clean up your talk or have it cleaned up for you.
    Murphy walked past Shannon, leered at her, and plunked the flour and salt down on the counter.
    “Be back with the lard in a minute,” Murphy said. “Take good care of her, boys.”
    The Culpeppers laughed. Then they stopped laughing and eased closer to Shannon. Beau looked Shannon over with speculative, watery eyes, eyes that stripped her as she stood there, eyes that probed every curve and shadow for the vulnerable female body beneath the cloth.
    Shannon stood like a wild animal frozen in the moment of discovery by a hunter, poised on the edge of panicked flight. She was white and flushed by turns, obviously fighting for control.
    “Dunno how she likes it, Darcy, or if she likes it a’tall,” Beau drawled.
    Shannon flinched despite her desperate attempt not to show that she heard Beau’s words.
    “Know how I’d like it, though,” Beau continued. “I’d cut her pants open with a knife, put those little feet behind her ears, and— Ow! ”
    Beau’s screech covered the pop of the bullwhip, but nothing could hide the bright gush of blood from his mouth.
    Like lightning, Whip’s hand flicked again.
    The long lash writhed and snapped, striking too quickly for the eye to follow. Darcy bent over, grabbing his crotch and trying to yell through a throat closed by pain.
    Whip didn’t even hesitate. Surprise was on his side, but only for a few more seconds.
    Snap.
    Clim grabbed his shirt, which was suddenly split from collar to waist.
    Snap.
    Floyd’s hat was sliced in two.
    Snap. Snap. Snap.
    Beau grabbed for his trousers. The steel buttons that had once held up his pants were bouncing and rolling across the mercantile’s uneven wood floor.
    The rest of the Culpeppers were still dancing in place and looking around for the hornet nest they must have kicked over.
    “Wonder how you boys would look without your clothes?” Whip asked sardonically.
    Snap. Snap.
    “Rawboned and filthy, I’ll wager,” Whip continued, “with privates smaller than a rat’s.”
    The lash hissed and snapped in savage counterpoint to Whip’s words, flaying buttons from cloth and cloth from flesh.
    While the Culpeppers hopped and yelped and their clothes were shredded too quickly for the eye to follow, Whip kept on giving the Culpeppers back the words they had used to bait Shannon.
    “Are you going to scream and beg for mercy?” Whip asked. “Or do you