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The silence between them was heavy as they rode. Cobb replayed the confrontation in his mind, wondering just how far Posey would go to protect his son—or his pride. He soon found out.

Zeke and Ernest were halfway back to town when they heard hoofbeats behind them. They turned in their saddles and looked behind them. They saw four men riding fast towards them. One of them was the big foreman. The two men tugged on the reins and turned their horses to meet Posey’s men head-on. They expected trouble. Ernest Brauer pulled a scatter gun from a scabbard and laid it across his saddle, and Cobb threw his jacket back to expose his holstered army cap and ball Colt.

Three cowhands and the foreman reined in their horses and stopped. The foreman glared at Cobb while the other men leaned lazily against their saddle horns, smiling with yellow teeth. “You forgot something,” the foreman said.

Ernest frowned, confused. Cobb remained silent.

“Did you hear me, nester?” The foreman asked. “I said you forgot something.”

Cobb sucked at his teeth with his tongue, then picked at a space between two teeth with his fingernail. “I heard you. I just don’t care,” Cobb said.

The cowboys straightened up in their saddles and glared at the two men. The foreman kicked his heels and slowly nudged his horse forward, pushing it into Cobb’s. It was a show of intimidation, trying to make the other man’s horse nervous and back away. Cobb didn’t care for it. As the foreman continued to press in, he drew up close to the soldier. He leaned over, face close to Cobb’s. “Nester.”

Cobb was done with big men pushing others around. He wouldn’t stand by, not this time. Suddenly Ezekiel leaned over and backhanded the man. The foreman grunted and went for his gun, but Cobb already had his out pointed into the big man’s belly. Ernest raised his shotgun and pointed it at the cowboys as they reached for their weapons. “Wouldn’t try it,” he said.

“I’m awful tired of your bluster, mister,” Cobb said. “Just like your boss. You want to give me something, why don’t you do it like a man?” Cobb holstered his Colt and dismounted his horse. He walked around the horse’s rear, keeping a hand on its flank, and skirted around the other side so he could face the foreman and the others. He took off his jacket and unlatched his gun belt. It fell to the dirt with a thud.

The cowboys laughed, but the foreman didn’t. He had bit his lip when he was slapped, and he was tasting the small trickle of blood. It riled him. He waved at the others to remain where they were, then also dismounted, facing Cobb.

“Boss said the cost of accusing his son was going to be high” he grinned.

“That a fact?” Cobb asked.

“That’s a fact.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Cobb said as he walked straight up to the foreman, eyes locked with his. Fast as lighting Cobb hit him with a left jab making purchase with the man’s face. It made good contact; the man’s nose broke with a crunch and began leaking blood. Cobb followed it with a powerful right into the man’skidney. He stumbled backward and fell to the ground. For the second time that day Cobb towered over a bully.

“You got anything you want to say?” he asked the cowboys. They remained silent. “No? How about you, Tom? You got something else you wanted to tell me?”

The foreman pulled a bandana from his pocket and held it to his bloodied nose. He glared up at him and then shook his head.

Cobb nodded and backed away. He retrieved his gun belt and jacket, put them on, and then moved to the left side of his horse and mounted. “Tell Posey I said thanks for the advice.” He and Ernest turned their horses and cantered off.

Ernest blew air out from his mouth slowly. He looked at his companion, who was fuming. “Can’t tolerate rude behavior?”

“Nope.”

“Temper, temper.”

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This is part four of “Blood on the Medina.” Click here to read the next part. If you like these free stories, please subscribe. If you REALLY liked them, please consider leaving me a tip by purchasing it on Kindle for .99 (the cost for 1/3 of a cup of coffee).