Chapter Three The Northern Waste

The man shut his eyes by instinct, and the shotgun blast went wide, punching a hole through the wagon boards. Jack's first shot struck his hand. The one on the right lunged, a knife sliding from the boot. Jack stepped back half a pace, let the blade skim his coat, and drove the pistol butt into the man's temple. As he fell, the "boy" raised the wooden rifle. Jack's second shot tore through the stock, jarring the short man's hands until he screamed. The man behind the wagon finally rushed out with a long gun. Old Bill reacted before Jack. The old horse kicked him in the chest. The crack of breaking bone was clear in the night. The man flew back against the wheel and dropped the rifle. The fight ended faster than sparks could settle.