Only 04 - Only Love

and measured Whip for a grave.
    “It was the last thing that damned hound did,” Floyd said. “Beau shot him.”
    “I should have killed Beau back at Holler Creek,” Whip said. “Live and learn. Or in your case, boys, live and die ignorant.”
    Darcy spat a stream of tobacco juice onto Whip’s boots.
    Whip just looked at him and wondered what kind of insults it would take to distract Floyd long enough for Whip to grab his six-gun. Then Whip would feed the gun to Darcy. Sideways.
    “What do we do now?” Floyd asked.
    “Wait for Beau.”
    “I need whiskey. Goddam wrist is paining me something fierce,” Floyd muttered, eyeing his right arm in disgust. “Every time my mule takes a stepit feels like somebody’s a-hammerin’ on my arm.”
    Whip smiled. “It doesn’t look too good, Floyd. All those red streaks. And the smell. Lord above. I’m surprised you can stand it.”
    Darcy and Floyd ignored Whip.
    “You’ll have to wait,” Darcy said to Floyd. “Beau’s got the tanglefoot with him.”
    Behind Whip, Floyd’s mule shifted and stamped its right foreleg, dislodging a deerfly.
    “Goddam,” Floyd groaned. “Hurts.”
    “Then get down and quit your bellyaching,” Darcy said. “I’m still bleeding from that damned hound and you don’t hear me whining, do ya?”
    A saddle creaked as Floyd prepared to dismount.
    Adrenaline went through Whip. It was the moment he had been waiting for. From the corner of his eye he could see Floyd’s shadow sliding along the ground as he moved.
    He was still holding the six-gun in his left hand, keeping the barrel trained on Whip. Floyd’s natural grip was right-handed. As he dismounted the barrel of the six-gun wavered from its target. It was just for an instant, but an instant was all that Whip had been waiting for.
    In a blur of motion, Whip spun around and simultaneously kicked outward. His boot connected with Floyd’s injured wrist. Floyd made an odd sound and forgot all about the six-gun. Pain knocked him senseless.
    Whip struck the gun from Floyd’s loose fingers and whirled around again. The side of Whip’s left hand connected with Darcy’s neck.
    The sound of the impact was lost in Clim’s bellow of rage. He drew a long knife and lunged for Whip’s back.
    But Whip was no longer there. He spun aside sosuddenly that Clim went staggering past Whip, off-balance, knife slicing uselessly at air. A flashing movement of Whip’s hands added to Clim’s forward momentum.
    Clim went head over heels and landed flat on his back. When he rolled to his feet and lunged again, Whip slipped the knife attack as he had before, grabbed Clim on the way by, and launched him headfirst into the side of the cabin. Clim hit with a force that shook the logs…and then he slid down onto the ground and lay very still.
    Just as Whip bent over to check Clim, Shannon screamed from inside the cabin. Her high cry was cut off by the thunder of a shotgun blast.
    The window was closer to Whip than the door. He kicked the partially open shutters aside as he vaulted over the windowsill, counting on surprise to help him against whatever he found inside.
    Shannon spun toward him, her face pale and her hand frantically cocking the shotgun.
    “Easy, honey girl. It’s just me.”
    Shannon made a small sound and stood, swaying, her eyes huge in her bloodless face.
    “I—” she said. Her voice broke. “A Culpepper—the cave—he—”
    Whip saw the open cupboard door behind Shannon. A man’s boots stuck out into the room, toes up. There was blood on them.
    Shannon started to turn back toward the cupboard. Before she could finish turning, Whip took the shotgun from her hands and stepped between her and the fallen man, blocking her view.
    “You did what you had to,” Whip said gently. “I’ll take care of it now. You go outside and make sure that Floyd doesn’t get into mischief.”
    “F-Floyd?”
    “The one with the bandaged wrist.”
    “What about the other t-two?”
    “I don’t think they’ll be much trouble,” Whip said neutrally. He handed Shannon the shotgun again. “Go on, honey girl. I’ll be out real soon to collect their weapons.”
    Whip unbarred the front door and watched closely as Shannon walked by him. Her eyes were too dark and her skin was much too pale, but her hands were steady on the shotgun. She kept walking until she was in a place where she could watch all three Culpeppers at once.
    “You’ll do, Shannon Conner Smith,” Whip said beneath his