One of the guards reached down to help the dog handler from the ground. He immediately rushed over to kneel by the dog.
“Is he alive, Larry?”
“Yeah.” The dog handler sounded grim. “She didn’t kill him, but his rib might be cracked. We were lucky.”
“You shouldn’t have let him loose, Larry.”
“Go to hell, Blake, he slipped his leash.” The dog handler gathered the animal into his arms and lifted him gently.
Wyatt liked him better for that. Still, the man was due a good beating, and he wasn’t getting out of that.
“Gentlemen, put down your guns,” he advised softly. “I’m only goin’ to tell you once. If you don’ comply, I’ll shoot you in the leg. If you still don’ comply, it will be the other leg. We’ll just keep goin’ until you run out of blood or I run out of bullets.”
“Don’t you worry, my friend,” Malichai said, his voice coming out of the night low and purring. “I’ve got enough ammo to keep on shooting long after you’re out.”
“And then I’ll start,” Ezekiel added.
Surrounded, the guards put their weapons on the ground, stepped back away from them and linked their fingers behind their heads.
“You’re making a mistake,” the one named Blake said.
“No, I think you’re the ones who made the mistake.” Wyatt leapt from the tree, landing in a crouch on the balls of his feet, right beside Blake’s gun. He tossed it up into the tree where Ezekiel was concealed and then threw the second one to him as well.
“Put the dog down. I don’ want to hurt an animal, so if he’s protective of you, leash him and hand the leash to one of your friends. They can just make themselves comfortable while you and I settle our score.” Wyatt pinned the other two with a serious gaze. “Don’ make the mistake of thinkin’ you can go for your holdout guns or your other weapons. I know you have ’em and I just plain don’ give a damn. That’s how angry you’ve made me. So know my two friends will shoot you down the moment you make one wrong move.”
Larry set the dog near the third guard, clearly not trusting Blake. He snapped the leash back on him and handed the end to his friend. “Don’t let him loose, Jim,” he cautioned, and then turned slowly. “Who the hell are you and why do you have such a hard-on for me?”
“You know that sweet old lady you thought you’d shove into the swamp? The one you threatened? The one you told you’d come by her home and take care of her?” Deliberately, and making a show of it, Wyatt placed his gun a distance from them and walked within feet of Larry. “That’s my grand-mere, and I don’ take to anyone threatenin’ her or puttin’ hands on her.”
“It wasn’t personal,” Larry said with a small shrug. “I was doing my job. We don’t want anyone coming around, not only for our protection but theirs as well.”
“It’s very personal to me,” Wyatt said. “So let’s get to this.”
“You swamp rats are all alike. We go to that shack you call a club and everyone wants to fight us to prove what men you are,” Larry accused, shaking his head.
The other two guards laughed. “This ought to be fun.”
“No, we’re not alike,” Wyatt said quietly. “That’s where you’re wrong. The boys at the Huracan are out for fun and they were invitin’ you to join in. No animosity and nothin’ to prove, just a good Saturday night bataille. Me, I’m dead serious about teachin’ you some manners, there’s no funnin’ in my mind at all. Swamp rats know how to treat women, and apparently you need to learn that lesson.”
“You’re going to be one sorry rat,” Larry said, and circled Wyatt, his hands coming up in the classic boxer’s stance. “I’m so sick of all of you, thinking you’re so tough just because you grew up around alligators. I’ll bet that’s what they call you around these parts – Gator.” He said the name in a sneering taunt.
“No, that would be my brother, and you should be damn glad he’s not here. He wouldn’ be quite so gentle as I’m goin’ to be.” Wyatt nodded at the man’s boot. “If you think you’re goin’ to make your try for that holdout gun, all bets are off.”
Larry scowled at him. “I won’t need a gun for this.” He stepped in close and fired off three rapid punches at Wyatt’s face.
Wyatt blocked all three, and delivered a hard right to the man’s belly, punching deep, driving the air from his lungs and letting him know it was a punishment, not a dance. The breath exploded out of Larry and he stumbled back, doubling over. Wyatt slammed an elbow on his back, driving him straight to the ground. He stepped back.
“The thing you should know comin’ into a neighborhood, Larry,” he said, his voice gentle, as if he was a mother instructing a child, “you treat the people decent. That’s all, just decent. And you don’ ever put your hands on old ladies or any woman for that matter. It just isn’ done.”
Larry got to his feet slowly, this time looking at Wyatt warily. His two friends stopped laughing, watching as he staggered a little. All traces of amusement and contempt were gone from Larry’s face.
Wyatt let him get his feet under him and set himself back in his warrior’s stance. He exploded into action, gliding in, hitting Larry hard with two straight rights to the left eye, both shockingly hard, knocking Larry’s head back rapidly. The third punch was a left roundhouse to the jaw. Larry’s body shuddered. His legs turned to rubber and he went down. Wyatt stepped back a second time. He wasn’t even breathing hard and he hadn’t broken a sweat.
“You might want to drop by Grand-mere’s house and apologize. She’s hell on wheels with a gun, but if you come by all sorry, with your tail tucked between your legs, she’ll feed you and forgive you, because that’s what we do here.” The soft voice changed. “Get up. We’re not nearly finished.”
Larry rolled over and stared up at the night sky. “You hit like a damn jackhammer.” His left eye was already swollen shut. “I’ve never been punched that hard in my life. I didn’t know anyone could hit that hard.”
“Swamp rats learn how to punch on the way outa their mama’s womb. Stand up. And for the record, I’m takin’ it easy on you.”