Both men stood with their heels dug into the dirt, braced, each waiting for the other to swing. “This is your last warning,” Hal said. “Turn around, get back in that truck, and go back to your life, or so help me, Clayton, I will throw your body in the fuckin’ ravine for the coons.”
Clayton didn’t hear the threat so much, as he tried to remember the last time Halford had called him by his first name. Not since they were kids. He held Halford’s stare and saw nothing in his brother’s eyes but an empty rage churning like the storm clouds those old men on the porch must have seen coming. Clayton had hoped age would change his brother for the better, for the wiser, but it hadn’t. He had hoped Buckley’s senseless death would have dictated some logic, but it didn’t. Hal was still the same man who could sit and hum a tune while his enemies burned alive tied to a tree less than twenty feet away. Clayton was almost ready to believe his brother could kill him, too.
Almost.
“Okay, then, Hal.” Clayton backed down from his brother, adjusted his hat, and made his way toward the Bronco, where his deputy was only now able to exhale. Darby pressed the button on the armrest to unlock the doors.
“Nice visit, Sheriff,” Hal said, and started back up the steps. His hands were shaking. It surprised Clayton. He opened the door to the truck, took off his hat, tossed it onto the driver’s seat, and began to unbuckle his gun belt.
“What are you doing, Sheriff?” Darby’s eyes widened. “Are you crazy? We just got a pass. Let’s get outta here.”
Clayton tossed the belt and sidearm onto the seat and slammed the door. “You want to threaten me, Halford? My whole life I’ve been listening to you talk about what a badass you are, but I’ve never seen you do a damn thing that didn’t involve you telling people what to do. How about we put all that talk to the test, fat man.”
Darby sank his face into his hands.
Clayton rolled up his sleeves, then unpinned the small tin star from his duty shirt and set it on the hood of the Bronco. A new expression replaced the anger on Halford’s face, one that was rarely seen by his people—he smiled. “Do you know where you are, boy?”
“I know exactly where I am. I’m on the northern edge of McFalls County, which falls under the jurisdiction of the Waymore Valley Sheriff’s Department.”
Halford laughed hard enough to make his belly shake. “Is that right?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“Nobody up here gives a shit about your jurisdiction, Clayton. You’re a joke. An embarrassment.”
“Yeah, I get that, and I made my peace with the way you see me, but that don’t change the facts.”
Several men in the yard trained their guns on the sheriff, but Halford waved them all down. “Not one of you harms this man,” he said. “Put your guns down.” Slowly the rifles lowered. Hal cracked his knuckles and twisted his head from side to side to pop the bones in his neck. Then he stepped off the porch.
4.
Clayton swung first, but Hal sidestepped it and threw a solid haymaker into Clayton’s ribs. It hit like a railroad hammer and dropped Clayton to his knees.
“Get up,” Hal bellowed at him. “Get up, boy. Don’t go down with one punch. It’s embarrassing.” He loomed over Clayton with a smile while the sheriff regained his breath. It didn’t take long for Clayton to spring up and go at Hal again. The big man tried to pivot and sidestep the hit again, but this time Clayton anticipated it, and the second punch connected square on Hal’s jaw. It felt like the knuckles in his hand had exploded. Hal shook it off, grabbed his brother by his tan duty shirt, and pulled him into a head butt. Another explosion of pain followed by bright white light and black spots.
Don’t black out. Don’t black out. Don’t black out, Clayton chanted in his mind. Before his vision cleared, Clayton swung both fists like twin pendulums into the sides of Hal’s head. That hurt him. He let go, and Clayton hammered a quick succession of rabbit punches into Hal’s kidney. As the big man buckled over, Clayton brought up his knee and rammed it into Hal’s face. It caught him in the cheek and sprawled him backward flat onto his back. He sounded like an oak tree falling against the forest floor. Clayton moved in to kick him but noticed all the rifles were back in the air and aimed at him. These men weren’t used to seeing their leader in the dirt. Clayton put his hands in the air and backed away.
“I said put the goddamn guns down,” Hal said, holding his face. He got to his feet and spit some blood into the dirt and gravel. “The first one to fire on this man dies next.” Hal brushed the dirt from the front of his shirt and trousers and fixed his eyes on Clayton. “You sure this is the kind of fight you want to have?”