"I want both of you out of my home. Now."

  I demanded. I wasn't a pawn in anyone's game. Especially Judge Nagy. Both of them. What I wasn't prepared for was the pushback from Abby. Anyone but her.

  "You owe me Corris Lee. You owe me!" Abby reached for my hand. I yanked my hand away in disgust. I couldn't hold back my facial expression. It was twisted from anger. Exasperation. I wasn't mentally in a good place to fight her and the Judge. It hurt that the once timid, non confrontational young lady is now pulling a play right from her father's own handbook. Pulling goodwill gestures, and the Ordeal Asher suffered as favors. In the end It didn't change a damn thing. I wasn't going back to that life with either of them. Regardless who is asking.

  "Don't you dare turn your back on me Corris Lee." Abby stormed ahead of me Blocking my path as I strode toward my front door. Grabbing my double-barrel shotgun, resting within the door frame. It hopped in my hands with practiced ease. Breaching the gun. I checked it then snapped it back into its ready position.

  I pivoted on my bare feet across the naturally decorative grooved wood flooring. Gripping into the coarse carving. From years of being an animal.

  One of Judge Nagy's men tried to stop me from leveling the shotgun but a l swiftly headbutted the flunky. Crushing the man's nose. Crumpling it inward. A gout of blood exploded from the man's face as he slumped to the ground in pain. Holding his free-bleeding wound. With one hand, I pulled the man by the leg, yanking him aside in a heap. Another gunman struck me in the face with the butt of his rifle. Nearly buckling me to my knees from the immediate jolt of pain. I recovered quickly, jamming the muzzle of his rifle into the man's face with a palm strike. Gave him an uppercut for his troubles. Snapping his head back. I heard an audible crack that echoed through my place. As he straightway fell on his ass.

  “Daddy put a stop to this now!” Abby now stood in-between the men and me. Trying to stop the escalation from getting more out of control than it already was.

  Abby pressed her back to me, but she wasn’t trembling like the others. She trusted me. Her delicate features, usually so expressive, were composed into a mask of unsettling calm. Her dark hair was pulled back tightly, emphasizing the sharp angles of her face, and her eyes—those unnervingly bright, crystal blue eyes—seemed to glow, taking in every detail. They were a color I had only ever seen in the deepest, purest heart of a glacier: unnatural, utterly striking, and impossible to look away from.

  They were the color of life.

  She wore a simple, high-collared dress of dark black, the kind a mourning woman might wear in the high society frontier. It was a formal, somber black canvas, making the bright blue of her eyes and the pale skin of her face stand out. It was proper, respectable, and hid everything beneath. The image of her in that stark black dress, those blazing eyes, flickered with something ancient, something cold. The look in her eyes now—

  She had fangs.

  Just then a voice called out from outside in the rain.

  "Corris Lee? Bring out the Judge!" A strong voice demanded. His voice powerful and commanding. Very forceful with a staggering degree of authority. The voice wasn't asking. That's a demand full of youth and vigor. Driven by hate. Which fueled their disrespectful actions for crossing into my land. Now making requests of me in my home. Much like Judge Nagy and his men have done. I know the burning feeling of injustice, sweating through the pores of the familiar voice. I understood the sentiment.

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  Judge Nagy snapped his fingers toward his fallen men. Embarrassed at how quickly I disabled them. Rendering them liabilities. They struggled to stand at attention to the judge's chagrin.

  Kaplan, a dusty throwback of a frontier woman turned hired gun, whispered in the judge's ear. I could just make out the words.

  "Our... long rifles... are still in the field." She mouthed. Her eyes never leaving mine, she looked me up and down.

  "We're not turning the Judge over." Kaplan said to me. Staring behind steel-gray eyes. She lost what it is to be feminine out here in the open range. Not surprising, she didn't possess the motherly instincts beyond survival. She stood in front Judge Nagy. Gripping her long rifle.

  Classic Kaplan.

  Nagy pushed his bodyguard aside. Angry that his brass veneer was now tarnished. The Nagy clan curse.

  I heard horses galloping around when the Seminole warriors yipped. Trotting around my home. I could hear the men coaxing each other on. Building up to louder war chants with each passing minute. Lathering each other into a frenzy for the Judge Nagy. I should give them their quarry. If I did then Abby would go as welI. I really wish I was a white hat. I would give them the rightful justice their people deserved turning over Judge Nagy. I’m just not a white hat. Never have been.

  “Nobody shoot. Nobody go outside. I’ll handle this.” I looked to Judge Nagy. He nodded in agreement. I took a deep breath then walked out my front door.

  The humidity hit me first. Sweat immediately beaded up on my body. My clothing felt heavy. Saturated. The Red Rain kept up its presence on my porch.

  I soon took in ten Seminoles on horseback circling my place. Mud sloshed everywhere. The war party yelled out in anger. Pistols and long rifles being shot in the air. It didn't look good for Judge Nagy. They were outnumbered. I couldn't believe the brazenness of dragging Abby across Seminole country just to reach me. Of course the Judge knew. He had brought her all the way out here knowing full well I would be defending him. Defending her. Against the whole Seminole nation. Well not the whole nation.

  “Jay Bonehawk! What the hell you doing on my land?" I barked out. My voice competed against the hard rain and war cries. I heard spurs clinking across my floors inside. The Judge’s men getting into defensive positions. They wanted iron sights trained on the Seminole horsemen encircling my home. No doubt, the realization is setting in on them.They realized just how serious their situation is.

  Pope, Judge Nagy’s right hand man stopped Abby from following me outside. A fatherly thing to do.

  I stood outside on my small porch. Slowly, surveying the scene unfolding in front of me. Ten indigenous, painted in red face paint with purple accents on their skin. The rain had yet smeared their war paint that made them match their Purple Faber horses. Red stripes ran down their torsos and down their backs. Merging with the dorsal stripe on their steeds.

  "You are housing butchers brother. Be clean Lupo Lee. You are rubbing elbows with a Hvresse vakke (demon man)." Bonehawk gripped his horse's hair. I smelled the steed's wet mane. It had the texture of a hound. When he said demon, it wasn't a threat. It was his intent to slaughter the family that took their most precious ancestral land. The Arbor. My ground must be christened with blood once again.

  "They are under my protection. You trampled my land under your hooves. Uninvited. You then threaten my guests with death. You have brought your blood feud to my doorstep. On my land. Under my roof. Under my watch.”

  I tightened my hand around my double hitter. I only need to hit Bonehawk to end this standoff. I never liked to negotiate. I have five rules. At the very top of that list is conflict management. Escalate to the extreme end. Cuts down on the back and forth. I am not a diplomat. I don't negotiate. Never that.

  Tosvsēkv takōsnētos os?

  I asked is his horse going to fight for him? Challenging the second in line to chief of the Red Mesa. He couldn't turn down my insult or Bonehawk would lose face with his father and his people.

  "So be it Lupo Lee." Bonehawk jumped off his horse with a thud. His muscles were thick and taut. His battle sash stained with the distinct Red Mesa clay and dirt. Seminole men rarely reach 6 feet tall. God added a bit extra for the young chief to be I reckoned.

  Standing at an impressive 6 foot 9 inches and a thick 250 pounds of raw power. He towered over me by six inches.

  “Let's go little Lupo.” Bonehawk taunted me. Waving his hand that he slapped against his bare chest.

  The young man just committed a cardinal sin on the Open Range. He underestimated my size and strength in comparison to his own.

  After dismounting he handed his spear to his right hand.

  I lowered my suspenders. Unsnapping and taking down my overalls. Pulling off my dirty shirt, letting it drop to the ground. My scars and tattoos lay bare for the war party to see.

  My bare feet gripped the warm mud. Feeling warm mud between my toes connected me to the firma in ways indescribable. I thought of Abby inside. I couldn't let anything happen to her. That's for sure.

  Bonehawk produced his hatchet. Twisting it in a beautiful arc. He is skilled with an edge. I rotated my wrists in circular motion. Loosening up my muscles in my hands and forearm.

  I squeezed my fingers into a fist. Expunging the excess rainwater from them.

  Today I

  needed to be practice how a Reclaimer manage community relations.