Hunter looked at her a long time, “I’ve changed my mind. Come with me, but stay close enough to hold the back of my belt in case there’s more than him down there.”
Hunter led as they made the short way down the ravine to the rear of the barn, stopping under the pecan. She waited, listening, but heard nothing. As they eased around the corner and crept toward the front of the barn and the airplane, Kelly touched Hunter’s arm, “I hear cars.”
Hunter stopped and listened. They were coming. “We have to hurry. Stay close.”
Hunter went to the front and peeked at the DC-3. The stairs were in place, and the open door beckoned, but she didn’t see the pilot, Paul. “Too far back,” she said to Kelly, “Stay close.”
They trotted across the yard toward the plane, with Hunter planning on going in, pistol ready, and shooting anybody inside.
They were halfway to the stairs when the first shot kicked sand and gravel at their feet and Paul yelled, “You’re not hurtin’ my plane again!”
He fired again and again, coming close but not hitting the running, weaving targets.
Hunter spun around, pulling Kelly behind her like a skier behind a fast-turning boat. Kelly gripped the back of Hunter’s belt like a ski-rope as the momentum almost spun the eleven-year old off her feet.
Hunter brought up Carl’s pistol, firing as soon as it came on target. She shot two lightning fast .45 rounds into Paul’s chest, hesitated a quarter-second, and put a third one centered in his forehead, blowing out the back of his head in a wet, red mist. Paul flopped to the ground just as Suretta and the others slid into the yard, their vehicles stirring up a large, reddish cloud like some Dust Bowl era storm.
Hunter and Kelly made for the far side of the barn.
Suretta and the others stepped out of the vehicles and Suretta had Ramona and Ike beside her. Two gunmen stood beside them holding their handguns, with one of them grasping Ike’s arm. Anita screamed and yelled and cried from inside the vehicle, saying, “Don’t hurt mi mami!” The small child fought with the ones trying to silence her.
Suretta yelled over the child’s incessant crying, “Hunter Kincaid! Look at this! See all this trouble that’s your fault? Can you hear Anita? You’re causing that, too!”
Hunter and Kelly slowed, then stopped. They turned to face the others.
Anita’s cries grew louder, continuous, and more panicked.
Suretta said, “Drop your pistol, bring the girl, and you’ll be all right. Take one step away and I’m going to kill these two.” She pointed her pistol at Ramona and Ike.
Anita struggled and wailed so loud, Hunter worried she would rupture her vocal chords.
Hunter gripped her pistol as her jaws ached from the tension.
Kelly saw it. She glanced at Hunter, then ran towards Suretta, yelling at Suretta, “Don’t shoot them!”
Hunter grabbed, but missed the girl. She watched with a sinking heart as the child ran to Suretta and stopped in front of her.
Kelly said, “Don’t shoot them, please.”
Suretta pulled Kelly close and held the back of her neck in a painful, claw-like grip. She said to Hunter, “Kincaid, drop your gun and come here. I’m not kiddin’.”
Ike turned his head and looked at Ramona, holding his gaze with hers. He patted his chest twice, saying in silence that he loved her, then he caught Hunter’s eye and nodded.
Hunter’s eyes widened and she said, “Nooo!”
Ike twisted from the man holding him and leapt at Suretta.
He was quick, and almost had his hands on her when Suretta shot him through the throat.
Ike flopped to the dirt. Ramona screamed. Kelly and Anita did, too.
Hunter lifted her pistol and fired until it was empty. The two men grunted as they dropped with chest wounds, and Suretta jerked as a round smashed into her pistol when she brought it in front of her body to shoot at Hunter.
She dropped it, threw Kelly toward the car where Nadine pushed her inside.
Suretta pulled her hideout pistol from the ankle holster and used it to fire at Hunter as she ran, dodging left and right, like a jackrabbit, until making it behind the barn.
Suretta leaned down and grabbed Ramona’s hair, pulling her from Ike’s body. “You want to walk, or you want me to drag you?”