“There’s no time to rehash this,” he said. Then he fired the 9mm, aiming above my head. The bullet shot through the wooden shed behind me and splinters went flying. Its obnoxious bang echoed over Blue Ranch and eventually dissipated.
I was scared shitless, of course. What sane and weaponless cowboy wouldn’t feel that way?
Another shot rang out and echoed. The bullet almost hit my left ankle, mere millimeters from its bones and muscles. More of the shed splintered. Behind me, Tal whimpered through his nose, probably more scared shitless than me.
“I think a bullet will look good right between your eyes, Boxford. What do you think?”
“You’re done,” I said, probably instigating him when I shouldn’t have.
“I’m the one holding the gun, asshole,” he said, waving the 9mm a little to the left, and then to the right. He shared another grating laugh, delighted with his game, and performing two more murders.