The Curly Wolf
M. R. Kayser
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The three deputies hunkered down behind the big pine log and looked to each other. Bullets snapped the air overhead.
Down below their position sat the line shack--a wide cabin of rough-hewn timber. No light showed in the windows…save for the flash of rifle shots…but lanterns hung on each outside corner encasing the structure in a shield of dull yellow illumination.
Long-bearded Bill removed his hat, peeked around the side of the log, then spoke softly to his companions. "I figure there's a couple ways we can play this out."
John, the big one, spit into the dirt under the log and said, "We can charge down there like Pickett's brigades to bust that door down, a-hopin' they'll miss with every shot. Or we can wait 'em out 'til they run dry on cartridges."